How To Make More Poetry By Doing Less
I no longer see the beauty of moonlight through the window
The heart no longer beats happily
Everything is cold, insane, fragile, different!
The rain wets the concrete on the wall
My prison wall, my only vision.
beautiful moments are being forgotten
Only shadows are beside me,
I feel lonely, sad, empty, abandoned.
Even if there is no more reason
In this dark room, through the window, only the wall...
I try to be strong, I hide my pain.
I wear false masks of happiness
But this suffering has no pity...
I look out the window, there is no moonlight, just a wall!
Wet by rain and my tears.......
We howl at the cry of world peace
In this land that the apocalypse seems to rule.
This inhuman humanity addicted to disorder
Lost what maybe he never had: a heart.
Television, written and caricatured newspapers
They love emphasizing the pain of others for audience.
And the dumbest question there could be
To the family who had just lost a close one:
"How do you feel?"...
Lack of sensitivity or intelligence to crucial issues
It seems to reign over any meaningful notion.
To human or rational order.
Impunity, social difference, collaborates with violence;
But the powers of the powerful only exist
When a desolate people, however, consistent with its reasons,
They don't come together for a mere question:
UNION -- not to get their own privileges,
But to embrace noble causes where everyone will lie down
About voluntary and true consciousness in harmony with Unity.