Love is the language,
That it conveys.
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When a poem
It also brings on,Feelings, ColorsEmotionalPeaks,I don’t thinkThere ever wasAnything thatCould do That,And at the same time,Be, so evocatively,Sweet.
Drifting, drifting, drifting away
Getting, getting, getting awayFrom life’s realityIts noisy traffic,In a poetic way.Looking for peaceAnd calming daysWhere twilight is easyBrings night, peaceful sleepHoping, hoping that the new dayWill not bring back memoriesOf dreams that did not stay,Those that were never possibleAnyway,Those that were always,Out of reachAnd too far away,Where love was cradled.But never did stay,Where love just…
The right to write is sacred,
For writer and for reader,The level of communication,Must truly be, omnipresent.Writing is a brilliant gift,For humanity, a blessing,Where would knowledge,Freedom’s beauty be?If writing where not present.
I have saved,
But never found you,Buried deep inside of Life is Love,Sometimes present,Sometimes not,Love so difficult to find,Difficult to tie the knot,With Eternity,For only Love saves.Our miserable dreams,Are made out of desire,Roses and Fire,But in life the most we can aspire,Is to love and be loved,Of love we never tier,With love our tiny personal world,Becomes an Empire.
We are at a Crossroad,
The train has left the station,And is sorely off the track,Our priorities cannot wait,Tomorrow will be too late,Values must be put back in place,WIN we must, this very last race.This Nation,Founded, to drown the misery,That Europeans knew so well,Must not succumb, to their wreched past,Embrace falsehoods and false prophets,That will not last,Our pride in Truth…
In a tidal wave of fury,
And yet, and even so,He was still able to create,Amazing, marvels,We are, without a doubtIncredible, Scoundrels.