To our spirit and our lives,
Truly, keeping us alive,
What would this unjust world be,
Without Art and Poesy,
Just an empty shell, Alas!
Life would be such an Impasse,
Only Art does make us wise,
Only Art is man’s best prize
Reaching always for the skies,
From the lowly Hut we spring,
Art makes man a special king.
Love and Hate?Not very much,Few people can escape,Their fatal touch!
Fully explained or sustainedThat there are flaws,In everything and everywhereThere are even those that think,That our liberty and livesWere preordained.I truly believeThat we know what we doAnd are responsible for our actsWe must face the factThat we are who we areAnd all the restIs a farce,Or a hypocriticalPromotional, act.
To live love’s fullest thrill,I know you’re gone,You won’t come back,And yet I Love You still.
A treasured loveFor whom the poet’s heart,Forever longs.
We really don’t know what we want,We come and go and always rant,We experiment with torture, sex,We don’t know if we’re great or wrecks,Psychiatry is no great help,A Mystery the Human Self.
But what message does it send,When the ending eventsHardly bothers others?Today,It’s decline without end,Of values, feelingsNothing seems to matter,But to a Few that must gather,Values to defend,Before all decency and goodAre shattered!
