PRISONERS
Men are born free
but everywhere are in chains
thus wrote Rousseau--I take the point further-
upon themselves they inflict pains

in being prisoners of time
which with a sword of Damocles hangs
over every head and herds them into closed barns
where they sigh and lament in silent pangs

of anguish with no hope to be free
they have lost the will to fight
to regain that which was once their heritage
and fundamental right

men are born free
but by the loss of freedom they are condemned
time is the slayer--would they wake up
some day and look upon time with contempt?

Wonder if when constellations do align
And universe would finally see.
Would it be presumptious of me
To claim that then, finally you'd be mine.

Wonder if my sense would triumph over
So that my heart would be muted.
With all its contents looted...
Would I only seem sillier?

Wonder if I walked away
In due course.
You'd then take my hand in yours
So that a minute longer I'd stay...

Wonder if you'd understand
When if these feet
Should choose to retreat...
That they had to... It wasn't planned.

Wonder if it'd make a difference
If I said that I had to...
Not for me but more for you.
Would we still be able to love in silence?

Wonder if you'd wish that you made it all clear.
Before the gravity of reality would crush us,
Before the vastness of uncertainty swallows us,
Before my presence would diminish and inevitably disappear.

Wonder if you find my pessimism exhausting.
The volatile nature of my moods...
Especially when I dive deep in solitude
And resurface with a trove of words that are no less than exasperating.

Wonder if you loved me enough
In a day...
To stop me from walking away...
Or loved me too much to plainly say

That...

Future's days would see us apart...
Future's moon would glow but not for us...
Future's stars would sing but not of us...
Future's sun would dry out the passion in our hearts.

There is a light in every darkness,
an answer for a question!
today i will reveal the brain's limitation
as i forecast my upcoming poems

"the significance of essence"
"the existence of forever"
"the cycle of eternity"
"the alpha and the omega"

that was how our thinking, it can be so infinite.
and according to frank rizzo on a message...
it's a rhythm that has no end
my quite observant poetic friend

meaning,
I enjoyed every word of your poem! I can't wait to see more.
Keep creating!
God bless you and have a wonderful new year!
inspired by Erica Carrillo!Thanks a lot, see you all next year. ;)

quivering joystick
mellow honeypot
perfect blend!

fantasies
exciting hues
life is kicking!

huge dreams
coupled creations
cream puff realization!

dimples and smiling eyes
pretty gums drooling
sunshine babies!

art on the clouds
mad shapes
psychedelia anew!

o the futility
wishes were horses
flight and dissipation!

I I I I was immersed into Maria's  mystic  Veil  
      A relieving elegant relish of Rilke's mystic mist
Husked my binary perception as an Earthquake
       Easily brimms off the mountainpeak white frozen blanket
And helps Angels to swoon for a magnificent time lapse speed-->
        Up ornaments stiched with The Divine craft and Love on a
Flying carpet infatuated and melting from Sun's Immense impact
        When making love twice a day, Lovingly fulfilled with an
Intimate bluhing beauty of dancing Clouds de Dawn trying to kiss
       Dusk Cloudy deliverance. Resolve probably lied in many times
Read fluttering pages gazing Smiling Buddha who Knows  of   blissfi  pi  Lyrical     Mandolin   Elegies Obsessed With Seeking Answers By  
         Pressing against  Many  Hearts  Foolishly Misinterpreted
Pointless Colouring As An Act Of Reciprocal Love To  Central Black         Portals        Seeing      Thee      Gazed     Into   Intricate     Reminiscing
Me of Tempus Fugit Fragile Sudden Sadness Easily Evoken By You  
:::::

your every word was a gold nugget
and you made me feel so very rich
but that was when you were my brother

you spoke about strange things from afar
though you were always at home with the hens
but that was when you were my brother

you strummed your old guitar like a lost lover
and spoke about the sputnik, Russia and heaven
but that was when you were my brother

now the rot has set in and our wounds are festering
you tell me i'm not your mother's son
now that you're no longer the brother i adored