That’s what makes Poems such great things,
Hoping their secrets to share.
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Clouds of danger accumulate,
Devastate, kill and destroy, rational thinking,Men that only live for power and hate,They have and will make the World explode,Erie feelings are now afloat
So lost,
Our lives hang,From one thread,Spider web, thin.And yet we go on,Groping in the dark,Of our useless existence,Like Autumn LeavesWaiting to Fall.
I think I may start a clothes line,
Called ‘Lonely Fog’Do you think,London would mind?And sue me,For brand name stealing?What are you talking about?You, Super-Silly, poetGo tend to your versesAnd you’re extra-empty purses.
A better world,
Is thatWhere,Love, loves Poetry.
Oh my heart, my dearest one, listen,
That kills what you love most,Of fortitude, we boast,But when loved ones are taken,Tears hide your next tomorrow,You’re greatest treasures lost
Wrapped up in Poetry,
The psychological necessity,Of lending, an amorous hand.Poetry cradles the poetIn a motherly fashion,Wiping, away some of the tearsThat have already,Gone out of fashion.