Flowering
A rose in a fair and orderly garden grew, above a sensitive plant. The light of the sun landed on the rose leaves of poesy, and not a single ray reached the self-styled sensational plant in the bottom of the flower bed. In the night when dew covered the little sentimental plant, the sensuous dew spoke to it. “You are weathering away because of that rosy brute. You must do something… or perish!” But the senseless plant was defiant as always.
“Fuck the sun,” it said.
A brain mash of Percy Bushy Shelley's, The Sensitive Plant and a song I heard Saturday when I attended a punk concert in the small venue called Stengade (Stone Street) in Copenhagen. I didn't get anything of the lyrics of the song except the chorus, which was "Fuck Solen" (Fuck the sun). In Danish the word Fuck doesn't mean anything and has been adopted as a mild swear word.
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