It’s not fair!
That such Beauty,
Hides in it’s stem,
Like does Life,
The Daggers of Despair.
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Poet, you’d better hope
That you keep on looking for Heaven,Even though it’s never found.
Born in the USA,
Public toilets are a problem,And we are considered racists,No matter what we do or say,Is that the American Way?Does politically correct mean,Playing the insane card?Accepting everything and anything,Going backwards instead of forward?Enough is Enough!Of false liberality,All dignity charred,Extinguishing, all individualityControl, absolute controlOf your lost soul.
Poetry,
Would be like being deaf,For from you,The sweetest, saddest,Music from the soulWas immortalized,Verbally.
Poets know,
Without effort,Sincerely,Into Life they go,And understand,That guidance in poetic land,Is just as necessary,As helping,Or taking someone’s hand.
There is a way to the Stars,
Not paved by human hands,But by Hearts,That feel for other Hearts,Compassion.
Nothing has ever come easy for me,
They are my herds,My refuge, my passion,I revel in the waters of spoken thought,The surround sound effect embraces meAs if language were my lover,My Master, my only Hope.