a man with my heart
a boy with my hand
an act of duplicity
resonates within my unkempt
illusiveness
i killed the bird
i trapped its burdens
surfaced replica
of first born freedom
fly south
grab what you can
cradle your needs
with a wounded hand
delivering sin
in balance with persuasion
i can trap your heart
i can convince myself
i am a liar within
i am nothing without.

behind the bush

Poetry is the link language of many hearts 
Binding its fraternity
It goes through the crowd of feelings!


For many poets Poetry is a white horse of hope;
Sitting on the back of that horse
They ride the journey of illusiveness!