I know that she is purity,
Feelings reject obscurity,
I put my love in Poetry,
She’s never disappointed me.
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When the dangerously absurd strikes,
Politically or otherwise,Nothing, safety ties,Part of our disastrous melting times,Where there is no place to go or hide,As insanity takes hold of human pride,Delirium is and has always been,A very fatal and highly uncivilized ride.
Poetry,
That ever was,Pure feelings,Inner healings,That, And more,Poetry does.
We’re all the same,
What’s in a name?The illusion, that we’reNot all the same,Nor play the same game,Of dishonor and shame.However,Politically speaking,I’ve concluded:Corruption is an infectionThat no politician has ever,Voluntarily, eluded.
In Poetry,
More than logic,It’s how you dealWith Life’s call,Tragic or with Magic,That’s All.
How much more a poet can express,
Feelings that intimately, impress,That touch of heart, love does the restCommunication, at its very best.
In past dreams,
In the wordsYou once pronounced,I hear you,In the vastness of the Sea,You are all around,I feel youAll is Love,When near you.