The Common Bluebell

Spring is flowering in your hair's madness:
classical princess; traditional dress -
stained by foreign wit's magical power.

Oh grief! Ring those common bluebells loudly,
let their musical features sing to gods;
too drunk to care for ships of friends now lost.

Personality draws shades of colour
across language; unrecognised by fools:
a jester's juggled petals crash again.

Bend over the top of freedom's chasm,
watch the view expand in pretty nowhere,
native pendulous intellect bleeds scent.

It's positively criminal; bulbous,
broad hybrids accentuate poetry;
spaced-out colloquialism's speechless.