Why we are here,
Nor where we go?
We seem to live
Within a mist a Mist,
With open arms,
But then clenched fist
Life’s full of quantic mysteries,
Some Logic others, Lunacy
And yet we think
We’re really free!
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You and I,
That Love is our obsession,Yes,I know,I love you so,My life is your possession.
Poets,
Working hard,Swiftly,Running aroundIn all directionsTrying to find crumbs,Little wordsTo put togetherTrying, to giveLife and PoetryIt’s dignityAnd precious,Chant,Regardless,Of bad weather.
Roses, Love and Music,
A World, perfumed illusion,That enhances poet’s, sight.Thru Roses, scarlet color,Perfume and nectar flow,Thru Love we open power,The best we’ll ever know,Thru music we hear Poetry,With which our feelings grow.
It is, what it is, how it is,
Some work to change it,In vain,Some live always,The same,Others dream someday, to gain,Heaven on Earth,Thru true love,If that they attain,They are the lucky ones,And All the rest is just,Bluff.
Poets feel and understand so many Things,
Delving into the Sands of Past, Present and Future,Using their hourglass of words,From whither comes their stunning light.That is why, for me a Poet’s words are sacred,Better than those of a priest or any religion,For a Poet, even if he should try,Cannot hide behind a lie,Writing Feelings, tells you why.
The dramatic side of human stupidity,
In order to intertwine,Incompetence with anonymity.
So much was left behind
The love not had,
The dreams not filled
The words I could not
Find…
The hands of Time
Will not turn back
No matter, how we try
Nor how, loudly we cry.
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Trying to understand,
Understood,Trying to convey,Things for Everybody’s,Good,That is the Poet’s,Robin Hood.
How often,
Do we think, ‘things will change’,That some how, Hope can be arranged,And then something happens,Not for the better,Just an eye-opener,That makes you realize,That Change is just a word,That has to do with the weather,Not with human exchange,Something, that no matter,How hard we try,Simply cannot be arranged.
Astral visions, breaking away,
Words can create visions,That grow and then stay,The dance of celestial spheres,Remains programed in the sky,Telescopes peer into the distant darkness,Always trying to discover,The next miracle of creativity,That will be born from,The artist’s imaginative, cry,Forever feeling the elusive, Why?
True Art and Poetry
Human jealousy,The petty partsOf our dysfunctionalEgotism,Such is the grandeurAnd UniversalityOf their Composition,For more than all elseWith purest Love,They touch,And conquer the profundityOf our hearts,Making, both human and divineThis glorious transition,Into loving Poetry and Art.
To live in Society
Essential,So much in lifeIs in the tasteOf the social holder,For we are anythingBut the same,Individualism beingThe key holderWe must not pullSociety apartJust for One or manyTo have a good start,Nothing in life is freeCooperation, betweenDifferent factionsBrings peace and unityBut if we betray theseRules,And act like crazy foolsThe whole Edifice,Comes down,And like Jack and Jill,Jack broke…
As poets,
To go forward in our Art,Let us not betray one another,We must sustain each otherBravely, Sagely,Understanding,Every Poet’s Heart.