UNBELIEVABLE,

What it should never be,Is Mad,For madness belongs,To the world of fools,Where life is just shattered,And there are no rules,Poetry is feeling and hope and dismay,A promise of Wonders that people can say.

And forgetThe World is madeOf pain, regrets,Of meanness, falsehoods,And of pride,Of ‘taking others for a ride’.

Freedom of BeingEnsues.

In Poetry,Certainly Not!If there were,It wouldn’t be Poetry.

What I write,And a feelingOf peace and happinessInvades my human space.Never, will I betrayNor wrongly, portrayThe Truth,I will always writeWhat I think is rightBecause Poetry, will notLive off of lies.

Cinematography,Naively and romanticallyThinking,It could be reproducedIn harsh reality,One day.Make believe is make believe,Life is not a camera’s dreamNor do we get the part,We want to playFrom just dreaming, which filmWe’d like to be in,As once upon a timeWhen Hollywood made films,The True Romantic Way.

Of idealistic rubble,Part of HistoryOr just memoriesMuddled,Whose very existence,Was more troubleThan worth,Because we seem committed,To toxicityInstead of creativity and mirthOr even,Just forgotten, how to actWith some specks of human worth.

Death of the spirit,Death of the soul,When you cannot,Love at all?

Give credit where credit is due,A grateful child is a blessing,A fountain of love and of pride,A consoling, sustaining pillarA joy parents cannot hide.

Thru poeticFeelings,Images that areHealing,That rest the soulsFrom anxietiesAnd try to cradleLove’s immaculate call.

Or have no proof ofHow to handle,Not only your fingersMay get singedBut your ownIntegrity and reliabilityMay be questioned,Melted or burnt awayLike a lying, candle.

Can get away,With anything they do or say,This is not our USA,This is not, the land of the brave,Of the free, to act so shamefully.

If once it was your love,And in your heart,It will remain,Alive, with memory of,The thrilling time,It was first read and loved.

Yet, understood and feltAnd heard,A love that lives,As if divine,Silently, purely,Says ‘your mine’A love that crosses,All of TimeBut greets Eternity,Each time.

Since then,The StarsCan’t even tell meWhy!From youI cannot,Be Apart,What have you done?How dare you stealMy broken heart!

The One written by the soulWhere every word,Every verse counts,The one that escalatesThe highest mountAnd then comes downEnrobed in beauty and grace,Needs no idolatryNo matter how oldOr new it is,It stands on its own two feet,Proud, beautiful and sweet,Like new nectar found,Waving the bannerOf Victory, never defeat.

Feudal lords, is anything different for your serfs?Manipulated and strangulated,The people pay the price,Of the misuse of power,From the lowest hut,To the highest, tower.Will it ever change?

Most don’t even knowWhat Poetry givesAs far as consolation,To the soul,Most have never evenLooked closelyAt a Rose,Its true color,Its abode,The drops of dew,Silently, humbly,Trembling,Upon, petals sweet,Daylight’s tearsThat compose,All that can marry,Poetry to a Rose.