The dramatic side of human stupidity,

To clean up Washington’s, dirty stuff,Plus ‘political lying Doves’,‘Each people has the government they deserve’Said the great Alexis de Tocqueville,Therefore, ‘Shame on Us! ‘

And now again, we are threatened,Not only by outside killers,But internally, by stupid clowns and foolsWho think in their delirium,That lies and stupidity rule,That they are the absolute winners…

So brilliantly knowledgeable, without hesitation,But she could not love him for his heartEven if she had wanted to with all her heartFor none he had,No kindly feelings,No compassion, no sensationsNo tenderness, no passionCold like Ice, Winter’s ration.Sadly,She could not love, a heart of stone,So all her life, she was alone.

Drive it,Perfect itHide it,Keep on feelingIt forever,Ride it into infinity,Name it,Blame itKeep it secret,Passionately deprived,This never ending feelingThat helps you stay alive.I have a mild suspicion,That once upon a time,In some wild omission,And without anyone’s permissionSomeone called it Love.

Whoever hates this Country,Belongs in the Coo coo’s nest!

To live in a NationWith Freedom, so far.To be able to move,Think out, our best dreams,To live in a country whereLiberty streams!Do we really knowHow to keep our luck?And not forsake it,By ignorant speechGet duped and get stuck,Remember this,And remember it wellOnce you lose FreedomIt never comes back!So do whatever you mustA Country like this…

So does the sky,Where love once floatedDebonair,And life was quiteA thing to share.Now,Into the multitudeOf voicesDo I blindly stare,Knowing that for me,No one is there.

It’s how you say it,And for that,To Poetry,I take off my hat!

A type of investigationInto thoughts you cannot seeBut that question,All of Life’s existence,Constantly.Let the mind never be quite,It’s best friend,Curiosity,Hand in hand,It goes with learning,Still so much to know and see,Only Knowledge makes you Free!

Thinking that out words can make a difference,Dress the undressed minds,With sentiments and poetic flurries,Images that in time,Will make life more livable,Us, less worried,What fools we really are!The bloody scurried crimes,That haunt our past and present,Are still carried out with violent fury,‘Man’s inhumanity to man’,Our poems cannot bury.

Mi pasado, mi presente,Mi futuro y mis alas,De todas las cosas de este mundo,La mas amada.

Writing Poetry,Even if not the best,Your soul is at rest,And your mind fancy free,Love reaching Poetry,That is what you areAnd will forever be.