Wise Men go and come,

Carefully, with amour,As not to blemish the purity of white,I feel your perfect flower,No petals, just a cornucopia of beauty and delight,The shape of a Modigliani ballet dancer,So white, in the blackness of the lonely night.

And Control,The base,And violent feelingsThat considerationFor others,And all confidenceStole,Are just some of theDeplorable, DisgustingTools, used by thoseThat stop at nothingTo regain total power,And control,Calling themselves‘democrats’And all of us,Worthless fools!So be on guardAnd don’t forgetThat more often than not!Tyranny, does not askPermission,Nor at close doorsDoes it gently,Knock,So very oftenTyranny start at home.

But Poetry, Ah, Poetry,Direct and swift as an arrow,Passionately, touches the Heart,With just a few words can,Emotionally, tear you apart.

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.

A chapter writtenEveryday,But it’s up to usTo do our best,To plant with zest,The wondersThe spiritual infusions,The good kind feelingsThat should give riseTo BeautyArt, Love and CompassionAbove,Everything else.

Love is the nicest, poem,We have ever heard.