Skip to main content

It's Wrong

I don't know your pain.
I don't know your sorrow.
I don't know a thing about what you think.
All I know is...
It's wrong.

Imagine my fist upon your cheek,
Breaking every bone upon impact.
Would that be right too?
Since what makes us happy, is apparently what is right.

You like to walk naked.
I want my clothes on.
You love to smoke in public.
Even chimneys hide their faces in black.

If it's right because you love it,
The prisons should be empty.
The asylums should be playgrounds.
And the policeman should probably be out of a job.

It's true our ideas may differ.
Our mentalities also might.
Our natures might also differ...
But our world remains the same.

The world you destroy by what you love
May be the one you repair with what you hate..

Dheric Da Poet®

Labels:

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

NO CREATIVITY ALLOWED

If you think some people are born creative and you're not one of them, think again. What makes some people more creative than others is that they nurture their creativity. In fact, experts say that creativity is primarily a learned skill . And like any other skill you want to learn, it requires that you put in some hard work and effort. It's not enough to just want to be creative--it takes daily dedication to push yourself into original thoughts and expressive ideas. Too often, though, the biggest thing standing in the way may be your own habits. Here eight of the worst creativity killers. If you recognize them in your life, cut them out now. Click [ HERE ] to download PLEASE LEAVE A COMMENT
Post a Comment
Read more

EVERYDAY MASKS

Sometimes blue Sometimes shaded Sometimes painted Sometimes faded Other times you just can’t state the state of your mask. We put on new faces When new phases appear. Our smiles alone Could take the sorrow off one’s tear. Yet, Deep down, our souls yearn for joy. Regretting what our past once destroyed. Sometimes, deliberate. Other times, not; We change the masks so quickly, we forget who we really are. Our faces become new to us. Our purpose eludes us: Our path becomes strange. That’s the point we start believing our own lies. 1…………………………………………………………………………… 2…………………………………………………………………………… 3…………………………………………………………………………… 4…………………………………………………………………………… Dheric Da Poet ™ I’m not sure how to end this one. So I’m throwing the challenge to YOU. Add the last stanza to it. The most “Delicious” and “Sumptuous” stanza would be added. Hehehe. Don’t forget to like my page too, http://facebook.com/poeticdheric   OR Just s...
Post a Comment
Read more

ON THE MIC 2

When words dance to unheard tunes on the lines of your sheet, As you breathe life onto them, death suffers defeat. The urge to bring the page to stage stirs. Then the cares of life we share moves from despair into repair. Our efforts are not useless. When we stand before the crowd and allow words to spill from our reserve; we deserve an applause. And still, we seek to preserve - Preserve our names behind the blue and red wires of the microphone. Our images are printed behind every stanza, verse and line. We refuse to be beaten, Every handiwork is fine. We tell our stories from the bottom of our hearts, So there's meaning in every line-it's a replica of our hearts. When we're on the mic, things happen. When we're on the mic, we happen. Revelation Poet ©2016 http://revelationpoet.blogspot.com Like my Facebook page too: Revelation Poet #CWC #PoetryBankGroup
Post a Comment
Read more