The rich and powerful create their own reality, then shove that reality down the throats of others.
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Poetry is a life-long odyssey...sort of like, getting on a wood-craft, sailing off toward the horizon, praying one is dealing with round notes and not flats. The poetic heart floats and sinks with every lyrical journey.
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My fancy rainbow soon but fades
And all in vain mine eyes I blink
The floating boats of hope do sail
Then in the deeps of grief they sink
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"Some pets are people in fur coats"
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We are all the captains at the helm of our own boats as long as we live. And no matter where the boats take us, until when we have lost the control of the helm
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On a passing cloud there floats a dream.
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If
Dogs bark,
Goats bleat,
Wht does humans do?
Answer this and know the real meaning of your existence.
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Like a tangible ether, your heart is what floats art!
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Freedom floats on the sea of sacrifice.
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People come and people go..The boats are assembled in a row..When will i be a boat out in the sea?..When will i see the unseen? -Suyasha
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It's never too late to sow your wild oats, in case you never got around to it.
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