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I love you
I hate you
Both three words
But one can
Effectively either make or break
Someone.
Just thinking about the differences between love and hate, but how they can also be similar to so many ways.
As always, feel free to share/give feedback as you can do with all my other poems!x
☭ ⛧ Ⓐ ⛧ ☭ ⛧ Ⓐ ⛧☭ ⛧ Ⓐ ⛧ ☭ ⛧

Incensed by mighty Milo, you act brave
then rage and bludgeon, shutting down dissent
while Mario Savio shudders in his grave.
Behold: another shameful sad event.
Youthful useful idiots on the attack,
pawns of global capital dressed in black:
Bernie's Berserkley: raze it to the ground
and Donald will be twenty-twenty bound.
Georges Sorel, amused, looks on in silence
at your half-baked proletarian violence,
infantile intifada, civil war,
a glimpse of what the future has in store:
you are the fascists you've been waiting for.
Mario Savio was an American political activist
and a key member in the Berkeley Free Speech Movement.

Georges Eugène Sorel was a French philosopher
and theorist of revolutionary syndicalism.
His notion of the power of myth in people's lives
inspired anarchists, Marxists and Fascists.

from: wikipedia.org
When I go back more then a decade to the thought of my feelings in that exact moment of ulamite knowing of how much love I have for you. It takes me back as it slowly brakes me down, into this lovely moment

As I try to ignore this feeling in my face, as if the realizations is a relapse. The feeling painfully manifests in my nose as the pressure releases and I accept it all over again  the warm wet feelings slowly move down my face, into my  own comforting bitter sweet tears.

It is always within me even with his lack of presence. The love is still here.
Still feel his kiss on my face from the last time I saw him
In the market I'm a popular man.

So very nice they say
he doesn't even ask the price.

I'm the sellers' good mate
they decide the weight
or rather the mass,

So very kind they say
he's the buyer top class.

I'm the sellers' idol
the quote they call
I pay

So very good they say
he's our man every day.

They decide the rate
decide the weight
even the item

while my mind thinks of a poem.
 Feb 2017 James M Vines
Ola Radka
White footprints follow me
everywhere.

Snowflakes sparkle
in my hair.

Winter is smiling;
Blessing me with its
White magic.
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