I think,

For a poet, Words are Honey,Without which, he can’t survive.

Does not abate,But disgustinglyIncreasesDay by day,Like bitter enemies,In Gladiator roundsThey hate, fight each otherLike beasts, making butFurious sounds,In constant war forPower!Thru a long tunnelThat can only take usAnd the Country,Down Down, Down!But it does not matter‘Equality’ so they say,Is what counts,For themselves, mind youBut for no one else!So, not as generousAs they make it sound.And…

To make the World, perfectHappy and Sweet,Black and White colors,An Adorable sight,Penguins and Pandas,An eyeful Delight!Adorable Always,A joy you can see,Wish I had Some,That belonged just to me!

That you have with yourself,An intimate conversation,A Love deliberation,More than words,Music, feeling, sensation.

I suppose that’s why there’s Poetry,With its Beauty and sincerest,Honesty.

So much, Information,But what can you believe?For the bursts of information,Are not in our favor conceived.

Unforgettable rose,You forever want to keep,I look not to the pastNor live, the presentFor without you,All I do is weep.

Wanting to know,Wanting to share,Wanting to be,More than anything else,Feelings that care.

Endless processionThat dissipates my tearsWith loving discretion,You’ve been my confessionThe loving obsession,Of all of my years,

Resonate a heart beat,The look of love,Exemplify?Ask a Poem,It may tell you,Softly,On the sly.

Loneliness does not care,If you move or if you stare.Solitude’s story,More pain than glory.

Since Robert M.SmithHas gone.Poem HunterNot the same!Its luster and shinePoetic grace,Gone!Feel sort ofOut of sortsAnd sort of numb.

Making fools believe themMonsters of Evil and hypocritesThe Devil bears, Marx’s nameThey promote free speech,But won’t allow it,Know the truth while there’sStill time,They owe us the truth!And if they deny itWhich they will,We owe them.Defeat!

Of idealistic rubble,Part of HistoryOr just memoriesMuddled,Whose very existence,Was more troubleThan worth,Because we seem committed,To toxicityInstead of creativity and mirthOr even,Just forgotten, how to actWith some specks of human worth.

Not all in Life is dutyHearts should often be,The better judge.

Banning all knives,All Evil, shouldNot be ableTo combat, All LoveThat as humansWe’re supposed, to have.

But drains the heart of all it’s blood,Without saying a word,A hurt, a life of Loneliness,Without your Love, your nihil,You know you’re suffering everyday,And that you always, will.

Called Fantasy,That consoles,That makes you free,And there is Love in poetry,A warm breeze of Fraternity,That embraces your Soul,And keeps you company.

Told I was on theFringeDidn’t Care!Getting successfullySingedWas for me,Holiday, ware.

A bundle of Nerves,And Melancholy,If you don’t agree,Consult, Psychiatry.

So hard to describe.It’s as if you are able to fly,Because the wordsMake you love, dream, singAnd sometimes, even cry.

With passionate wordsOf imaginative desire,Oh Poetry!Your fire,Is unstoppable,As your heart palpitatesIncessantly,Full of Love’s desire.

Different tastes,MannerismsTime to wasteIndividualisms,I supposeIt’s all part ofThe behavioralPattern,Of the human race.We are all,So differentIn so many waysThink of itAnd practice,Understanding,ToleranceFor others’ views,As long as not harmfulPractice kindness,Not terror’sInfractionsBring about peaceNot destructive,DissatisfactionAnd above, be goodTo one another,Please,Don’t hurt each other.

The poet feelsA melody,The music that is in the air,That must become poetry fair.The Dreamer’s song,Near by the sea,Blue sailing movement,Sets it free,A feeling that you don’t forget,Like young first love, you don’t regretThe poet lives only for that,It’s in the blood yet so abstract.A poem is a poet’s song,Fighting for beauty,Right not wrong,All love…