Is to die of Love,

That are sage and well intended,When they want to get selected,But once in a state of power,It’s as if an ice cold shower,Washed away All they PretendedYes, ladies and gentle voters,Pay attention, close your motors,Dressing salads, gets elected.

There was so muchMore, involvedIn every look,In every touchEvery embrace,That meant so much,A kind of electrifying,Current, of whichThere never was enough.

And Love the best of all, our human throne,That has you know you’re not ever alone.

Don’t ask me why,I don’t know,I can’t tell,Why it’s an inexplicable feeling,A palpitating Star,That All should have,Before they die.

Of life,Inspiration calls,A poem vibes,Harmonizes insideBegging, HopingTo be born!And if that blessed momentDoes occur, does arriveThe inner starsOf inspiration,Feel such a welcomedSensation,All explodes in adorationOf this fluid, ardent Art,Born, from overflowingLove,That Poets cannot hide.

With ketchup bells,Stale French fried smells,And dill kosher pickles,All ready to go.