That’s how Poets speak,
They’re called ‘metaphors’,
But their clarity is often weak,
It’s only twisted language,
Where imagination and absurdity peak
In a lonely World, so cold and bleak.
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The World should belong
That cannot be intimidatedThose that aspire to doNo wrong,And should not be run,By those that can be boughtOr made to sub-perform,But each Country hasThe government it deservesSo it’s up to usTo become better, not be fooled,Or led by paleontological demagoguesPoliticians with dictatorial aspirations,That promise all to everyoneAnd then, all take, all want, to own,You reap…
You thrill me,
You turn me around,Voices, emotions,New musical sound,I love of your personThe melody, found.
Follow the Lies
To the Truth,When they becomeSo uncouthSo on mud’s sideSo blatantly absurdThey can’t evenBe said, understoodOr heard.And then,Lies will fallBy their own weightAs they presentA most absurdState of affairs,Letting true democracyServe the people,Accions will speakLouder than wordsWith truth and factsThat nobody dare hide!
Did not realize,
As the clouds gratefully gather their tears,The thirsty Earth blesses the returning Spring,And glorious blooms seek space,To beautify Life,From without and from within.
Learning to Love,
Makes you a Person,Respect, you will earn.
Writing in the clouds,
Normal, less normal, insane,Some people like to read,The Clouds that Poets write,But living in the Clouds,A danger signal is,For even famous poets,Cannot fully describe,The Mystery that life Is!