Profession of the Soul,
Most people don’t
Know it,
But you’re born
A poet,
And Poetry like Love
Is magic
Meant to heal,
Embrace us All.
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Explore,
For there lies a whole New World,With unlimited possibilities,Maybe, best you’ve ever heard.
When the Moon is Green,
I’ll still remember you.When all is said,And life has bled,I’ll still remember you.No life is full,There is no rule,That tells us who to love,So therefore, dear,Let’s make this clear,You’re still my only Love.
Is there Anyone,
That has been so beautifully composed?Yes, the One you Love.
Intuitively,
Without being told.Fortunately,Like feathered thingsWe know when Spring arrivesWhen love,At youth’s portals singsWhen we’re deprivedOf our most basic needsOf companionship,Affection,But we also understandDeception,The mockery of affectionAnd when others playHypocritical conception.Please, please,Don’t say a wordYou cannot light a fireWhere there is no moreDesire,Just with words.Those who love,Surely understand,That when the passionIs put outThere are no more,Extensions,…
Give me your hands,
I want them to understand,The love I have for you.The Holding of the Hands,Love smoldering in advance,The giving, between two,The silent ‘I love you’,That lovers understand,United by that touch,Of hands, that say so much.
‘Vote along for me,
They’ve lied to us,Since kingdom come.So once again,All will be fooled,And badly schooled,Till Thinking will go numb.