For which, You only hold the key
When you are writing poetry.
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To touch,
At the same time,That’s what greatPoems do!The formulaHas not been divulgedSorry,I’d like to know it too.
We have a big, big
Because so manyInternally, say‘How can I fool you,Let me count, the Ways! ‘And they very joyfully,Carry outThe fooling processNo qualms, no conscienceIn most Subversive,Corrupted, Disloyal,And Ruinous, plays.The world is made upOf politicians, liarsAnd knaves,Each one with no conscienceEach one a morality thief,Each one an amoral criminalWith no heart, but big teeth‘The better to eat you…
A promise,
Once was:Never, to leave me,To be left,Without youIn the emptinessOf the Past.But promise, not kept!Life, Death, DestinyWas strongerThan the two of us,Now,Missing you alwaysWith the tearsOf remembranceAll over my heartBeing now,The only thingI’ve got to hold on toWhich really hurts, a lot.
When I read certain Poetry,
The Sky seems near and within touch,The Spirit leaves its cage as such.A feeling of Immensity,Embraces me so totally,I feel ethereal and in touch,With Mysteries, I love so much,In trance with words I’ve never heard,Before me open brand new worlds,And I no longer can be me,My spirit Free thru Poetry.
Neptune was my father,
Really, do not bother,To figure out this mess.At the ocean, seashore,There were some arrests,All the Thinking People,Got, alcoholic tests.Loons and goons were dancing,High up on the hill,Never really knowing,Why the World stood still.Then there were the Speeches,Endlessly Insane,Telling everybody,‘Thinking’ was in vain,And next time they tried it,They’d get Purple Rain,In an upside-down cell,At the County…
Some of us,
To find answers,While we churn alternatives,But we never really learn,All is so shrouded by mystery,Or hidden, or turned,So that the point from where we got started,Is the point to where, we will undoubtedly return.