The Soul of all language,
A Birth newly found,
A Sea of expression,
Unleashed, without bound.
Within Human madness,
A Poet is Love,
That mourns now and always,
The death of a Dove.
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You’ve got to read everything,
If you want to find the truth,Maybe?Even look, under a Queen’s royal wig,And then be taken to the Tower,Or quickly escape,And after all this nonsense,Go take a shower.
I dwell in somber thoughts,
Night is my Vessel,The Stars are my sails,And my favorite Song,Is the one that hails,Sadness, as a monotone.
What is it with Poetry?
That consoles the broken heart,That’s so human as an Art.If you know please answer me,For as much as I have tried,Don’t exactly know, just why,She is Beauty’s ever pride.
Be cautious,
Exchange words carefully,They mark your territoryThey close or open pathsOnly fools and cowardsAnd certain, psychopaths,Speak and enjoy,False testimony,And we sure are sickOf THAT!
The joy that Poetry brings
It’s like someone holding your handWhen you’ve given up on everything.
You cannot force a poem,
Inspiration, a mysteryIt comes or it comes not.Like love,Is creativity,No formula for either one,You cannot force love’s secretNor love, just to be loved,Love, is its own deep secretEven Poetry,Cannot decipher, LoveOr why, we’re love dependentAnd need it to survive,To be much more than happyAnd really feel alive.
A soft spoken butterfly?
That has no guide,
Of where to fly,
A constant Dreamer,
Mortified,
By stale Events,
That are Glorified!
So many Planets!
Poets have theirs,
For they really think,
Stars do have stairs,
That they can climb,
And with time,
Become pure Rhyme!
So if you want to live a Lie,
Become a Poet,
Now you know Why.
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Our World is crumbling,
High up and over,To the sacred Mountain,Of Eternal Snow?Our World rolls over,Where do we go?To some court of justice,That we don’t even know?Do we trust ‘authority’,To carry out,The laws, they seemTo know nothing about?Something has changed,And it’s very bad,Government feelings?I think we’ve been had,Things seem to be in disarray,The guilty gloat,The innocent pay.There is no…
Have I found the truth,
In your words that,Speak to me,So profoundly,I’m not resistant,To be what I should not be,The Dependency,On your words,Like the air I have to breath,This emersion into your world,Where I stay and cannot leave,You have chained me and disdained me,But I really do not care,All I know is that I’m happy,Knowing that your words are there.
Love for one another,
Although, so often spoken of.Love is constant sacrifice,Not just a mere mirageThat comes and goes,Remember,More love less hateLove is what our souls,Are supposed to be made of.So if in you there is no loveTo give,You have no soul.
Life gives,
In a second, in a minute,In a day,Will it really help,If I pray?
What we feel
Secrets nearSecrets farThe ‘why of whys’Of certain things,From mysterious fountain,Unknown, springsIf you and IWere meant to beDoes it really matter,Why that be?
Deeply, artistical
Living passionsAre the Arts,A fluidity not rationedInstantly,Sets them apart.Life’s adventureAlways differentAs an ever burning hearth,Love, the feeling that inspiresAs the Artist’s inner firesBecome mirrors of his art.