What? Cubism?
Paths that wind and intertwine,
Going where?
To doubts and scares,
Reaching for the Stars,
But downward stares,
Lost in Paradise,
And nobody, cares.
The Mysteries of the Mind,
Sometimes,
They keep us out of touche,
Even with ourselves,
And yet, it is Mystery, as such
That makes us feel so much,
And pushes us to care.
Seems to have gone away,We live in cyberspace,In social void,And as humans,We’re a pitiful disgrace,Long to fear and to avoid.
A chapter writtenEveryday,But it’s up to usTo do our best,To plant with zest,The wondersThe spiritual infusions,The good kind feelingsThat should give riseTo BeautyArt, Love and CompassionAbove,Everything else.
Especially whenUsed by someoneFor somethingI have written,For it mystifiesIn me,Deep feelingsOf gratitude,Thrilling,My otherwise,Inconsequential,Existence.
Than a poem read,That sets apartFeelings,That as humansWe should haveOf brotherhood,And that denyOur bitter historyOf grave injustice,And disgrace,That for so long have beenOur own, disgraceful waste!
There was a timeWhen we were wine and roses,But, so many times, with timeAll decomposes,We take things apart,We take ourselves apartWe look for troubleAnd we get it,Never satisfied, Never smartAnd so go so many loves,That perhaps were doomed,From the very start.
My poetryMy guideMy loving cheer,How not to love youIf your melodyThru my daysYou slide,Like golden watersAnd inspirational,Tide.
