To die of Love,

And decency,You perfectThe human soulAnd love listensTo your call,Hearts should openFancy free,To the call of Poetry,To its endless attractionOf verbal Democracy.

For Spanish is my loverBut English sets me free.

Becomes a poem,Sometimes,The perfume of a rose,Can be sublime,Sometimes,A tear can silently,Produce a chime,Sometimes,A Love may fall apart,And no one know it,But so does Time.

Poets are strange people,Not too good to have around.

Most of humanityI’m sorry to sayIs made up of fools,We are seeing that todayIn the ‘great’ US of A,Manipulated and convincedBy political Pied Pipers,Playing social utopicMelodies,And racial SpidersKnitting plotsOf destructive mobMobilizers,Like mice,The Fools, they followTo their demise,Even if the OceanSeems very far away…

We don’t get along,Since the beginningOf HistoryWar, Hate, Abuse!Persecution and Injustice,Have been going, Strong,Take a long lookIn Time’s MirrorAnd seriously ask,As you try to wipeThe fog,Off the glass,‘What’s wrong with us? ‘