No love poems, man.
Too macho, Nacho.
Too sacred, Sonny.
You neurons pushing me to create –
I’ll drop you like a lead palette,
knocking back the mighty
The threatening THENs…
Look sharp you!
“If” you don’t…
“Then” you won’t…
Ah! conditional creativity.
You love me
you’ll write me a poem.”
That portends a weighty tome.
Instead, I shall grab my named neurons by their dendrites,
flinging them end-over-end to
borders of electrically-excited boy’s brain.
I’ll climb the dendritic tree when I want,
God guiding as Jesus saves,
should I fall,
from that tree and half-eaten fruit.
Shepherd, lead me through the death valley of snapping synapses.
Hot wind, blow at my back lighting fiery tongues above my consciousness.
But this is no love poem – you neurons straighten up!
Hear these marching orders:
I will love you
(as the parents tell the children
when asked the “Why?”)
because I said so.
no love poems, man.
Too mucho, lucho.
Too holy, harry.
Hope that amuses you as much as it did me.
I’m exploring this whole creativity thing.
In addition, I’m exploring this whole “Great Commandment” thing and second like unto. Love the Lord… Love others as you love yourself.
How well do I love myself?
Is it humanly possible to break free of “if… then…” type of love?