That communicate
Truthfully,
Knowledge and pain,
Wanting to share
And to spare,
Since, they do care.
However,
And, au contraire,
Fools are, everywhere,
Disrupting,
All that’s good and fair.
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My Grandfather told me long ago,
To know a person Well,Who you may have thought was Paradise,Was truly Devil’s Hell!
Originality,
Part of a Poet’s heart.
You think,
You root for this One, publicized,You know, the One that has no pride,But always, very much to hide,‘Politicos’ they are astute,They always know which horn to toot,Behind closed doors, amongst themselves,They plan the voting, empty shelves,Then cakes are sliced for future dates,While we watch on, behind Hell’s gates.
Iron will, determination,
Make an explosive combination,Bette Davis, film Sensation
How many clocks
Alarms,Have you sold today?How many eras, lives, monumentsWars, civilizations, lovesHave passed,Before today,They speak about killing TimeBut Nobody canI Hate TimeIt steals Everything Away!
Some poets live
Where Poetry,Is!Exists,Only to be lovedAnd shared,As a heart-throbbingMiracleOf It!Happy is the poetThat, becauseOf this fulfillingInextinguishable,Pure love,Is never reallyAlone,And only livesTo adore,The beauty of..Poetry’s living soul.