The perpetrators,
Of Dishonesty and Fraud.
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Of Language you’re the Music,
Your Melody is Life to me,Beloved, dearest PoetryWithout you, I am lost.
Round and round and round we go,
What is right and what is wrong,Depends on Who’s singing The Song,That Power wrote for Sing Along.
I gave you form
Now,Will you be faithfulTo me,Oh, Love of my Life,How will we balanceEach other?Without evenKnowing one another,That’s whyI love to write,I think that is whereAnswers, to so manyMysteries, daringly,Lie.
Tired of analysis,
Hope is out the window,Planting, lost its plow,Things just seem to crumble,Nothing stands up straight,Is this just a sample,Of what no longer is great?House in great disorder,Seems to fall apart,As the Country’s engines,Clog and cannot start.Still the Sawdust Sellers,Say that all is fine,It’s only the victims,That always seem to whineBut ‘great deals’, still out therePlanning…
If you don’t feel it
Come back another day,You have to feel, deeply feel,What you write,What you say,Heart portray,You just can’t fool poetry,It doesn’t work that way,So, don’t be discouraged,Try again some other day.
I close my eyes,
Not only thereBut Everywhere,You stole my heartAnd all I doIs night and dayThink about you.Love is like that,You are possessedBy the very oneYou want to possess,Nothing to do,The die is cast,I love you moreAnd never less,The flame is there,With each caress.