I won't be there
when they lose themselves
to the ecstasy of the muse
and burry themselves
in the passions of politics.
I won't congregate with them
under the dark thursday night
as they fail to see the dangers
lurking on the corners
in their stupor of art
I won't join them
as they scratch the nose
of the roaring lions and leopards
with their skill of writing
in their ignorance of danger
I will be here, dear
composing sweet verses and lines
that will sound as mellodies
to fill you with happiness
I will lie on your lap
and wander into distant worlds
before coming back with beautiful
poetry
in the chambers of my heart
I won't join them dear
for my poetry
is of love (Is for you)
and they say:
they don't need it
for theirs is political.
Instead, I'll be with you
and watch my nation
being sold at a low price
while our love blossoms!
...writings and recollections; thoughts too.