look what free speech has done,
over 100,000,000 books written,
laying in shelfs of thrift shops,
given away for free,
since 99,999,637 are not worth reading,
to be honest,
I blame parents, and teachers, but most of all,
the wannabe bohemians,
with their designer clothes and artisan beer,
giving applause for friends,
who just published their debut work

sweet child, do not go up the stairs,
tomorrow polaris dies!
as only memoir remains,
in the melancholic skies,
virtuous child, spare your veins!

so you couldn't resist a shooting star,
you're not a failure, you're a poet,
come meet your kind,
in nighttime rooftops, we wait for you,
life's beauty, you will find!

brothers, sisters and all minorities,
I call you not to arms, unless forced,
but to gaze upon undersigned and thyself,
let us lay our forgotten senses,
in the hands liberty,
escape,
the long ruled captivity,
of forces that reckon no humanity

see the sea we are gasping our air in,
the false beliefs they are airing,
hear the fear of our siblings,
from the earth of castaway feelings,
and feel tomorrow of rescued society,
unity of you and me, for you are me,
and I am you, should we ever melt the globe to one remainining matter, wholeness.

Sun darkens and heats in east,
balance of powers perturbs,
it'll be a sad story,
in books of history

last poet will finally cry,
and with delicate soft hands,
one, which never did a days job,
must poet carve a tear dome,
for past times, humanity and freedom

*** and July
   gives tingling heat,
paves way
  for all romanticism,
and poor Rudy,
wrote a letter of love before dawn, and as expected,
           she adored it,
  never were they told,    
Romeo and Juliet is a ******* tragedy!

Female, male, novi-, pan-, trans-, cisgender,
questioning, agender, non-gender, alia! inter! apora!
    andro, bi!
chuckchi ne'uchika,      guevedoche,
  maverique,      winkte,
xanith...and approx 60 others.

When list is done, perhaps we can finally just be

From days past, a remembrance
has escaped,
It is with deepest of griefs,
I shall tell you the following:

where touch of cheeks,
or small kiss on a forehead would take place; a physical world,
is where following does not make its stand! no!

another starborn-lullabyworld, the mind! is his forest, undiscovered by earthly wanderers, place of magic, wonderful poems! earth saving ideas!
the greatest of lovestories!
here he lives and everything he touches, diamonds! oh how poor midas would be envious!

but it is with my deepest of condolances, I have to reveal such magic, for nothing in lullabies, exists in daylight

and touch of cheeks, only turns to sleepless nights