Make no bones about it

Like most Art form.I want to believe,We are moreThan just flesh and bone.But when we seeThe AtrocitiesThat some,So blatantly perform,We ask ourselvesIf we even deserveIn this world,To have been born?

What is this kind of insanity,No one knows, no one has heard,With you I just dream of sailing,Our Imaginary Sea,It’s gray-blue and it is daring,Sees what no one else can see.You have opened Coral Windows,You have given me Love’s Pearls,You have made me own the Beauty,Of the entire, Inner World.

It’s a mistake to Want to be alone,In the darkness of the tunnel of your thoughts,Even a small candle, lit by someone who cares,Can save you from life threatening nightmares,From the cold, from the trembling fright,From becoming, a solid pillar of stone,Without feelings, without lightAll alone, like a frightened child,In the middle of the Night.No…

Death is so final,The pain, evermore.Like in a dark room,You stumble and fall,You look for a window,But hit a blocked door.

Lose theirGolden HoodsWith time,But kind wordsStay,And are rememberedEveryday.

Was our love-life something wrong?To desire with such fire,All a poem can prolong.Life is nonsense without substance,If some good you can’t perform,I have loved you with my conscience,And the passion of a Storm.Poetry, beloved Fountain,Of my Life, you are my home,And my Country and my Mountain,And my ever reaching Dome,You’re the Ocean of my motion,Where…

Trying to reach the sky,Aspirations, high,Trying to purify,Our human faults,Trying to find Love,To heal life’s,Sudden jolts,And doors that closeWith disappointing, bolts.

Especially,To have a good cry,Invisible tearsThat don’t physicallyAppear,But can be readAnd feltIn black and white.

What can you changeWith a Rhyme?But since Time,Means nothing to me,I shall waste of itAs much as I want,Writing Poetry.

I love aloneI am alone.The Autumn leaves,The wind has blown,The Winter trees,Survive alone.

Like the day is long,And the night is black,And it hurts,Like the cavernous black holeOf a star that died,Leaving behind,No luminous track.So, I’m feeling black,Black like an endless cave,With no heart,Where blind bats gather,Seeing not,The sign of mourning,The forever, Black,Left by your departureAs the day is long,And the future, black.

Without being told.Fortunately,Like feathered thingsWe know when Spring arrivesWhen love,At youth’s portals singsWhen we’re deprivedOf our most basic needsOf companionship,Affection,But we also understandDeception,The mockery of affectionAnd when others playHypocritical conception.Please, please,Don’t say a wordYou cannot light a fireWhere there is no moreDesire,Just with words.Those who love,Surely understand,That when the passionIs put outThere are no more,Extensions,…