Sweetly desire
And love,
There isn’t much left
Better still,
Is there anything left
Clean, good to desire?
We live in a World
Of ugliness, moral theft,
And destructive, Fire
Where robbers are heroes
Moral rape, we accept,
Where sanity and beauty
Are spat upon and mocked,
Where to go?
When all decency seems
To be gone,
And all sensitivity,
Crushed and shocked,
Devastatingly, blocked!
Lost amongst the screams
Of a deadly, choir.
Maybe that is why,We are always knocking,At Hell’s Gate.
Forwarding address,‘No longer there’A naked white sheet,Of paper, so neat,In my face,Does stare!Gone the glorious phrases,Put together like no other,Beautified like child by mother,And conceived in Heaven’s chatter,I go back and seem to gather,Floating petals from a rose,That does not know where it goes,Swept by winds of make believe,To imaginary Nations,Where there is no longer…
All they can thru might,They live blindly in their tower,Crushing most of what is right.
Played on a piano of metaphors,Each one having his unique imageHis way of saying, poetically,The original sentiments that make poets free,All of this owned, very personally.The rest is heart,Resoundingly blown,By a wind of words,For each his own,Their very soul.
Each one of us thinks,We’re always Right,No matter what we say.
You fill our soulsWith words of graceA love no oneCan steal, efface,Not even, Jupiter’sFormidable Thunder!
