So easily falling,
Into self-made ruts,
Boring repetitions
Dull and unproductive
Have and Have-nots,
As evil politicians
Fill-in the gaps
With lying rules
And prohibitions
That make life
An insufferable
Mishap.
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If eventually,
That we do have a spirit,And are not but vile flesh,It will be thru Art and Poetry,That we’ll unravel the mesh.
What I love of politicians,
That are sage and well intended,When they want to get selected,But once in a state of power,It’s as if an ice cold shower,Washed away All they PretendedYes, ladies and gentle voters,Pay attention, close your motors,Dressing salads, gets elected.
Oh Love,
What more could we ever wantThan one, another?To softly beThe Ocean breeze,To travel far,See what we pleaseTo find protectionIn each others armsOf all that’s badAnd can do harm,What more beautiful in lifeWhat more satisfying and aliveThan to be loved, so endlessly,Always together, with this loveThat sets us free, so perfectly.
Much more than desire
And if it’s never burned youThen you haven’t lived,No, you haven’t lived at all.
To calm the pain,
The heart so often lives,We need much more than purple rain,The peace, Poetry gives.
Poets, like busy bees
A new poem, written with easeWith rose petals, floral peaceHas the whole hive giving lectures,For they are of poetry,The best readers and protectors.Poets are like bees,Their poems areTheir reason for beingAnd just like beesThey keep pollinatingTheir writing, so that wordsTake on true meaning,Make sure their sweetnessAnd deep felling,Will connect us.