All those you come
Into contact with,
But hardly even know
Will never really
Know,
Shadowy presence
Virtual figures
Lonely hearts
Friend or Foe?
Dream or existence?
No one will ever know,
Who, What or When
Not even the machine,
Thru which,
All phantoms come and go.
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What is a Poet?
A soft spoken butterfly?That has no guide,Of where to fly,A constant Dreamer,Mortified,By stale Events,That are Glorified!So many Planets!Poets have theirs,For they really think,Stars do have stairs,That they can climb,And with time,Become pure Rhyme!So if you want to live a Lie,Become a Poet,Now you know Why.
Can one attain perfection
So full of pain,Injustice, finely blurred,Maybe, maybe not,Depends on the eye, mind, fliesOf the beholder.Creating Art opens doorsThat are boulder,Imagination, Beauty fly,Art is communicative,To the beholderAnd seems to never lie,Authenticity, heart and imagination,Coming close to perfection,If it makes you smile or even cry.
Brute force,
Baring Satan’s double-crossHate and fire,Destruction’s desireHit the political race,Dominate the course,Encircle, the WorldNow, this Country’sTurn to join the ChorusAnd burn, DemocracyAt its roots.The messengers from HellAnd their rotten allies,Which are many,Have for 4 yearsTried to uprootThe very foundationsOf this country,That have made itGreat and unique,Able to attain,Orbital summitsGuard, world Peace,And keep most ofIt’s promiseTo those…
You can’t learn to be
Profession of the Soul,Most people don’tKnow it,But you’re bornA poet,And Poetry like LoveIs magicMeant to heal,Embrace us All.
As darkness approaches,
All Silences come together,In something called,Night.
They’re Fantastic!
That, A film, is a film, is a film,Nothing more than just, a film,But, They’re so much more than just that,A great film is a piece of art in movement,An artistic revelation, a creation come to life,That was written by the hand,But was born in the heart,With human interaction, feelings,Playing a monumental part,A sort of…