Of this weird Life,
So full of stuff,
You toil and sweat,
You take all bets,
And at the End,
It’s all regrets,
The empty hands,
The loveless nights,
The chilling fog,
‘Turn off the Lights’
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Nothing is beautiful anymore,
Nor man, nor beast, nor art,Is our frail humanity,Finally falling apart?Or did ugliness always reign?Among the slightly civilized,Now turned totally insane.
It’s not better to have loved and lost,
When you have loved, the person gone,It’s an unfinished song that’s sung,And only half of you is there,Alone, no one to love or care.
Poetry
Sentimental beautyThat nothing elseHas,When the divine sincerityOf Purity,Magically touchesPoetry’s loving branches,Its unfolded armsCan easily,Reach and touch,The Sky.
You are,
Out of kilter,Out of normAnd out of form,Free, exciting,Passion tornWhere roses growAnd verses flow,Where spirit streams,Infinite dreamsWhere only poetsWant to go,Where Love is bornSometimes a rose,Sometimes a thorn.
Think if you can,
We think we have a brain,But when used,It resemble more a tiny grain,That when planted does not seem,To go too far,Man is the only animal,That hits himself against,The same obstacle, more than once,And doesn’t seem to see the stars,If you have a chance,Think about it,For we are more stupid,Than we think we are or look,Even…
Our Country,
Remember that, brotherWhen you try to destroy it.With all its defects,No Other ever did,What this One did,No Other has ever had,What this One has,Because we are free thinkers,Opportunity givers, dream space voyagers,Innovators, and not afraid to be so,For we care and defend LibertyAs no one else has!Remember that, brotherAnd forever thank, your lucky stars.