They make me float,
In worlds, remote
So very far away
Where I can dream
And follow streams,
Imagination, steal
Be happy, sad
Even be glad,
While knowing
Nothing’s real.
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The lilies slept their life away,
The violets lost some of their flair,The Wind asked softly,Love is where?But could not find it anywhere.
Yes, A good Poet is
And as long as heartAnd language exist,A source of joy, love and peace,No favoritism intended,But good PoetryCan also beA life’s new lease.
The Busy Bee,
Not interested in money,From flower to flower,Flips, does she,In her life’s danceShe’s a conformist,Not a sinner or a spinner,Not even worriedAbout what’s for dinnerJust goes from day to day,Nonchalantly, freeHow lucky we would beIf our lives were as simpleAs the life of the Busy Bee.
Disturbing and pleasing,
Once tasted,Necessity, tugsAs a MustAnd you crave itsBiting, lust,That serenades,The dustWe are allMade of.
Twinkle, twinkle my Lost Star,
Just the way you are today,Even though you would not stay,You have blessed me with your light,Taken me to Love’s new height.Twinkle, twinkle my Love Star,Even though you are so far,Love is nothing you can see,Yet it shines on, endlessly!
The Millennium,
The killing of HopeDark panorama,Short cut rope.Technical miracles,Advance without endAnd we, we go backTo our savage trendViolence a pinnacle,Red flowers bloomHuman understanding,Hurled into doom.The beautiful is uglyThe ugly is expressed,In actions, in speechesOf continual distress.Mechanically savvy,Humanly compressed,An Ugly World,Where feelingsAre not blessed.Icicles are forming,Icebergs show their crestThey’re our future TowersOf Hopelessness.