But looking back,
That never was the case.
There are thing that you desire
Like love made of passion and fire
That only luck and destiny can provide
There, our hands are paralyzed,
Tied to our back,
We are not apt in sculpting,
A Love as a living Art.
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Search and ye shall learn,
Knowledge serves as Consolation,When alone, you’re getting by,Dries a portion of your tears,When you begin to cry.
Fun time is,
How we are still standing as a Nation,When we have candidates like Hillary,That are political abominations,But it really is No fun to see,How decadent and in decline we are,Crumbling away as a Nation,When at one time,Not even the stars seemed too far.
Too much Analysis
When isToo much, too much?Too much thinkingToo much lovingToo much feelingToo much tryingToo much cryingToo much accusingEach other of racistBlubberToo much protestingFor nothing,For unbridled change?Where does it stop?Where does it end?In heaven or in hellWhen its so overdoneAnd its justToo much!Bordering,With insanityStaying out of touchWith realityOverboard, terrifyingBecoming a menace,A maladyNeither the 21st centuryNor the people…
What pleasure
Visits can produce,You always introduceLake-like lingeringTreasure, that opensHearts and soulsIn lonely, silent booths,As poets writeAnd do their best,Hoping to conserveBeauty, Life and Truth.
So strong, so deep, so ours,
Surrounding warmth that showers,More happiness,Than all of Life’s short hours.
We think they’re magicians
They are idealistic visions,Takes and Cuts.But those who can really actAnd emotions transmit,They remain in our hearts,Because something thereThey have memorably, lit.There is nothing I like better,Than a fine actorWith a Cap for his Feather.And a Film as his Captor,And maybe one day,If they’re good enough,A gold statuette, named Oscar!