Love Keeps You Young - Poem by cristobal Benjumea

same old subject nectar of the gods for the poet

your tears a proof of your existence

look at the crystal river in the cave

i promised i wouldnt be boring with a head full of facts and figures

but out of touch with my feelings which were unmaneageable about you

im a box of fireworks

im a panic stroke riot

looking at the fountain in the cave in the middle of the forest i had an aparition again you my goodess

everything the material world can provide

amd some gods, utopia and violins

and red velvet sofas
your soft head has just come for garage fix

but dont open pandoras box

i prefer to look at the fountains cemetery at my back

no more shadows of utopia

i feel like time is running out

lonely without you of course

now i respect your sanctity

im 48 and i havent found salvation from god lets go all the way

still lonely, still wish you were here because you make me happy

and your a magitian that cungers up magic to ravish me

i prayed to god it would go the right way

tender felings of

awakened perception

enlarged conciousness

of the importance of my apartment

is it a case of interest or no interest

and then its time for me to stand in the wind

certainty materialised desire

my cup overflows

the golden apple had been my damnation

ive got calluses on my finger tips

i will quiten your indolence and give you a place in my altar

your spell

flowers explain how many thorns there are

the revealing wind

a sudden ray of light

awakens a desire to live free of resentment, like a plant

o in paradise
asi walk on the sand but ii prefer to walk on marble and await news from the beloved

to see gods will

i saw it and it was good

i saw the mighty works of the lord

the beautifull child that you are, all, amazing and flawless abuterfly catching the beautifull things

inocence and laughter

and you were his crowning creation meant to charm

and you burn people because your hot

ive got some tinder inside if you want, if you want to start fires

i know how to dance

wait till you see

i was a little stunned

but lets go

my fingers need to touch

and the spy gave me the news

the certainty of gods will washing my body

the ideals must noy be subverted

it will happen the dawn

Poems by cristobal Benjumea

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