I can feel it in the Distance
Feelings, that now overwhelm me.
Distance, Destiny, Despair,
No my Love, Life isn’t Fair!
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Poetry,
That make you think.Poets are not only,Paper and Ink.
Searching
For the Light,I cannot,Could notFind!In desperateAdmission,Do I signThis burning truthThat cuts meTime and timeAgain!Desperately,As if it wereA new born crime!We were,Just not meantTo be togetherAnd I getThat cutting sadnessHERE!In heart and mind,As the autographs,To Never,Do I sign…
Freedom of thought,
To make life and love progress,Without Freedom we’re impotent,To give fully of our best.Or feel Life is truly blessed.To be able to express oneself,The Freedom in that Joy,It makes our Lives worth living,Understanding chokes Destroy.
Without reading and writing,
No Culture, no Art,And no History.
The voice that speaks,
The voice that says so many things,The voice that rings,Deep in your heart,And with each sound,Gives you a ‘start’,The voice that’s only Poetry,When it says softly,‘I love thee’,The Voice, The Voice,How can it be?That Voice is what,Gives life to me.
What do we know?
Of nothing are we sure,That may not be invention,Of those that fake History,And take advantage,Of the few Innocents leftIn this valley of imperfection,As the light of truth gets dimmer,And our blood line to our History,So much thinner.