7cfaherty
7Cfaherty
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An explosive moment has occurred. Not political, nor of any worldwide influence. Just a simple and slight second of time. Where reality is real, the joy surges, a need is fulfilled! A woman's smile has positively taken my attention and given me the exchange needed. The smile.
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A breeze sailing scent, a crowd of individuals crossing a lane, where the sun light warms the mood. Still, the taste carried, ever so slight, has captured time. The willingness to follow has become dominant. Stalking, no, just the urge and need to see, enjoy beauty.
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Freedom is a well-founded dream. Being free is a responsibility and privilege. To accept,to share, voice, and speak openly are a few. Freedom has no color, nor does it accept judgments of other beliefs. It has no borders, nor does it approve of mental theft. Are you free?
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Am array of seldom sought thoughts, presented by even rarely spoken truth, where the listener is accepting, that others are able to offer a solution. Yes, in today's world, an abstract dream, where the genre of open and free thinking is available, is willing to share. A dream?
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Severing tongue, with the split lip. Nose curled, craving air, an atmosphere of weighted led, the mental madness is unled. So the stone features of the unaware, the clowns of total despair, the rock that weighs with the thrashing lie. Leaders? No! Just the republicans.
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When drips, then drops become the path of those unable to care. The deceased spittle spreads with the lips those who avoid the truth. So, as the dream is now a calculated lie, spat with the poision contained within the disturbed mental mind. What do we have, the republican!
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Simple-minded setting,a loss for the human mind. Judgment raised, the fallow fright, against the creative caring mind,hinder the need for the future. With nothing to correct and enhance,the future becomes stale. A dangerous and prejudiced world, a one-sided therapy of stupidity.
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Shadows deep and drawn within. A history forgotten, misused, for the gallant lip. Praise given, for oneself, even when the rolls of deeds are recalled, remembered, and none can be found for the self-named prophet, whose greed divided, stole the truth for his lie. The end?
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We speak of the future, instill the dream of equality, the need for tolerance, and then permit the slaughter of our future. Worldwide, in our own cities and schools.
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Old town roaming. Seeing the gift of the past, structures built to last. Today, weapons are created to erase our heritage! Madness!
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Caged, sorrow remains dormant, fear hidden deep within. Aye, everything and anything are repeating the stream of rout. May, sày, hereos are born, nay, say, the truth is newly formed. What has been has come again! Tears are shed, death repeated! This we've seen before.
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An encounter of third whisper, rendering the thought, am I free? Or are the elements so dominant that I have become dependent on the lust of want, imported greed! Nay, the question raises doubts,I wish to remain hidden, seeing nothing,only a dream.If this is true, I am not free.
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Never, the wherever, will never cease. Only the drop of morning drew can renew the silence of her smile. Talented moments of her passing by, her giving the exciting thought, that memory will never surpass. A dream created, accepted, and praised. A gift for me, my forever.
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Dreamt, wished, sought, the light of a made-up need. While I follow this new path, I laugh at the moment when the pretending begins. Rembering the truth and comparing the dream. Neither can end the inner laughter of the moment. I see, note that I am alive.
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As the meadow swells,
colors grow,
suns warmth extending,
spirits raise,
with an inner joy.
Swaying breeze,
Trees humming,
Flowers begin to dance.
Rhythm conceiving,
As if they are in a trance.
Spring has come,
The summer will begin.
A new joy,
Is born again.
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Silence golden? Nay, say,
the lost and turbulent word,
nor the sweet smile, when the compliment falls.
Nay, never will the lips,
Remain still when I seek,
Find the moment to give.
Only the silent knave,
Would weigh the moment,
Remain closed to the joyous,
And grandiose stanza of joy.
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When the dormant mind attacks, I flee, remembering the times of beauty. The eyes that lead, smile of joy that quells, swell for the moments that return to eas the flaying hand. Yes, these times of our past-present, are the healing of our core. To be adored and praised within.
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