I stand before you,
Naked and true.
My bareness not of yours.
My truth can not be trusted.
Nor my faith be withered.
Please I beg you not to believe
all of these words this poet does.
all of these years of quatrain this poet makes.
all of that word do line up with all of it that is pure bs and nonsense.
When all things fail,
I will prevail of my moronic and ironic insanities of my loving cabeza.
As I ask once before.
“Enter with all warning,
Enter and be entetained,
Inside my insanities,
Welcome to my hell,
So you’d know what
Heaven looks like after
You have come out of mine.”
Welcome. . .
Of all will,
the way follows.
It changes and binds to a cage.
Will and Freedom can have each other,
if these two enforces and contradicts,
tyranny will never stop.
if these two works, God knows
we can be a better force than before.
How much sorrow
can we borrow,
when all that wheel
can ever feel the load
of hatred that flows from
a stubborn head.
Then who do we call,
when all there is none at all.
Does the divine sky,
intervene and intertwine
when the ground is most filthy than
its building that stands proudly than before.
. . .
Who led that first hate,
when I knew none of love,
Then why you keep hating the ones you want to love.
Where the love of all hates is never done.
So please lets hang Cain once more,
Let us love Abel.
Yet no Jealous mind keep us apart,
then why do all wants both at the same time.
How then can hate love,love.
When loves keep hating hate.
However big, small, or even monumental the achievements.
Its an accomplished life which fulfills a dream within a dream,
That it can go further if it is an acceptance of inevitability flips that microsecond
change willing enough and there is no exceptions to the rule,
because life has its own mistakes for us to see it as an opportunity,
to be benefited and take hold of a minute of advantage.
She was always there,
neve left me alone,
now i revel,
and she does reveal her full figure,
how we make love every time
we have time for each other.
My love that lasts a laugh, yet only
the one i will always be here
at best every time,
my darling dear,
Play and see what it is,
play and feel where should it be,
it’s worth every day that work is our play,
where we play is the privelege of working each day,
comes into view that all we were meant to do,
alive where and when we go in,
to clock in and out of what we need to want to do.
© oliver a. melendez.
© all artworks and poetry by ohms / @rstydhude