The planets, the universe,
The loneliness of the hearts?
Questions with out answers,
The Clouds are just too dense,
For anything in our nano-lives,
To ever make any sense.
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How do you love, Love?
Can words send it reeling?Whirlwind feeling,Straight to Heaven,Palpitating dove,Can the Fire ignite itself?While the Heavens open up,The answer is in your eyes,Yes, those, I’m dreaming of….
Yes,
Played on a piano of metaphors,Each one having his unique imageHis way of saying, poetically,The original sentiments that make poets free,All of this owned, very personally.The rest is heart,Resoundingly blown,By a wind of words,For each his own,Their very soul.
The satisfaction
In writing,A poemCannot be acquiredOr merely desired,It surpassesAll typesOf Emotions,It’s likeBeing born again,From and withLove,Full of devotion.
Politics, you make me Sick,
Always lying. fooling. prying,Knitting chains around our wrists,You’re a Curse, no benefits.
No more Hill for Jack and Jill,
We have now gone down the Hill,And remain in deep foreclosure.
We think, what we think,
Hard to reach inside,Hard to change your own mind,Just like the weather,You can’t predict,What people will think,Most of the timeThat’s why,When selling new products,You’ve got to be sly.We are what we think,Wrong or right,By day or by night,But the problem is,That most of us,Most of the time,Don’t even bother to think.