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Gusblero Free May 2019
Someone asked
Is this life real
If love doesn't come true?

Or the opposite question
Is this love real
If life does not find its form?

There are many people saying
Love may not always keep us together
But how can anyone say something that is not felt in yourself?

Then people run in a quiet circle
He saw the love he felt and that’s hurts
Because he feels love what isn’t felt

He saw his lover
Dance in the crowd
And it's like a dagger

It will be very simple if he can see a gap
Return to the past then dismiss the meeting story
When his lover was first met

But this can be wrong because he doesn't know too
Is a lover worthy being called a lover
When will it not be owned?

Next question how can bear your love
Until it suffered so much
Whereas once he can't say it?

Gusblero Free Apr 2017
Sky blue, blue sky
Even when the spine to spine feels there is inseparable
between the fog in the mountains and the dew on the foliage
We split up looking for direction, and in the rice fields I saw hands waving
"Come here, honey," so you say
Above the mountains Helicopters hovering with banners waving
"Didn't you wanna see the city?" written on it

That man slammed the shadow of the sun glare
There is a desired but never found
There are left and should be interpreted as its own
The purest

December 19, 2014
Gusblero Free Mar 2017
a cup of coffee in the morning may not satisfy
but here I can see the future for the sake of passing so quiet
my night beaten messy nightmare
in three sips I spend

then that's how I like coffee
Kofein, nicotine, it's all old acquaintances faithful
with which I drank in the serenity
while imagining virtual face in a cloud of smoke
your face!

Coffee is always with me ...

May 6, 2011
#coffe #faithful #serenity #always #imagining
Maria E Jun 2014
The voice I posses is no greater than the rest
My mind's no better I can't take just any test
I cry with little things, laugh with the same
Surely to no one, greater I came

But to be adored by many is not what I intend
Just to be loved deeply by someone I depend
With his whole heart, his being, his soul
One who I could also love without control

We might not be as infinite as one until three
But our own infinity is enough, just enough for me
That love you gave, you gave it true
There's nothing more I could ask, just another chance to be with you
In light of another inspiration -- The Fault in Our Stars, Hazel and Gus

(Sorry if I didn't give enough justice. I just really wanted to create a poem for the wonderful work Mr. John Green made. The book's awesome and so is the movie. So yeah, TFTBA people! :) )
Ariella Apr 2014
Have you heard of Gus?
Probably not.
He’s a street cleaner, you see.
On the other side of town, where no one actually lives  
Except crumbling houses and rusted mailboxes  
And ghosts, if you believe in that kind of thing.
They must’ve stopped paying him years ago
When his job was no longer needed
‘Cause people were moving away from those parts
To the city, where creativity is a corpse under pavement.
So Gus works alone on the streets,
Sometimes I see him if I pass through the park.
Just cleaning away without a care in the world,
His companions a broom, clippers, a bucket, a sponge,
Whistling old folk songs to himself
As he sweeps up the sidewalks and pulls all the weeds,
Tames the wild lawns that nobody owns,
And cleans the windows with every ounce of his being,
Looking in, and never looking out.
And sometimes he just stands there, staring
At his reflection in the sparkling glass
Just adjusts his rugged uniform, 20 years out of date, sometimes picks at his teeth
Or something.
Sometimes I wonder why he does what he does,
It makes me angry to see him waste away his days
It’s like a symphony played to deaf ears
Or a sonnet written to the blind
It’s like rain on a parking lot,
It’s not helping anything to grow.
It’s just there, just there, nothing more.
I want to yell to him, to tell him to get a real job
To just trash that uniform, the supplies, just move on.
But still he remains, his whistling breaking
The silence of a street left to rot.

— The End —