Why is man
The only animal
That keeps hitting
His head, against
The same wall?
Goodness, fakes
And hardly ever
Learns,
From his Mistakes?
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Impulsive, attractive
Poetry,Once it appearsOh my! Are you lost!
A poem
SometimesMeans a lotIt’s like,An inner fightThat means so much,The deep questioningThat wants to come on outThat wants to knowWhat is and what is notThe truth!Above all the sullen rot,It also, sometimes isThe total intimacyOf a poet’s lifeThat sometimesBleeds and cries,And only occasionally,Will slightly smile.
From the infinitly tiny,
Poetry can do this,Sometimes, with just one rhyme.
I don’t like Unfair!
On a broken chair,Taking advantage of others,Brain-washing brothers.It’s distasteful, ImmoralAnd hateful.Teaching kindness,Consideration,Betterment of selfAnd of nationIs what counts,Giving lifeThe proper perspectiveAnd human bounce,Seeking higher Stars,That are luminous and fair,Showing, we are indeed humanAnd sincerely care.
They’re out for the kill!
Gives no thrillTo some observing citizenry,That know what’s happening,Giving our bones,A disgusting chill,Are we on our wayTo join Latin AmericaWhere no honesty ever existsAs political will…?
As with Love,
The strong attractionThe blinding,Thrilling Action,That compels,And casts its spell,As no reason,Interferes,In the loveThe Poet has forHis live creations.So isThe Poet’s LoveFor Poetry,As it permeatesAnd conquersLifeAnd all he writesAnd feels.