Slowly,
Ever crying,
Illusions live,
But don’t forgive,
If they are lost,
It’s just like dying.
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What will it be?
Coffee, Tea or Fantasy,Which will the poet,ChooseThat dependsOn sensitivityAnd what there isTo gain or lose.
A simple question,
We have already blinded her,With our poisonous and vicious traps,And thru History, the most unjustHave led the gullible innocent,But never cleared the Swamp’s mist,Nor crossed off, annihilatedThe miserable, unjust liarsFrom our human list.
Do you know down deep inside you?
You’re the deepest, living feeling,That has ever lived in me,All my feelings, All together,Now belong in your caress,Tell me that you feel the same way,So my life, it can then be blessed.
One by One, They’ve gone,
The Ones,I’ve loved the most!And in a forestFull of silent Trees,There I stand,Alone…So very much, aloneThat even the cold rainThat drops,I do not feelAnd I don’t own…How does it feel?This pain that doesn’tStop?This silence,From bottom to top,It’s like groping in theDark,Feeling about blindly,Waiting for the DawnThat never comes,KnowingIn your heartThat life, inevitablyComes apart,When you’re alone.
Under bulging tents we sit,
Waiting for our masters,To make rules,Or send us,To obedience schoolsBut blind folded, opened eyed,We have no place where to hide,And they always get our skin,We, the people never win.
Each life
Each poetHis dream,To be ableTo express it,Not as easy asIt may seem.