The Pain Of Carrying A Basketful Of Guilt

somehow i have not given up the need
for hiding places
my choice of words has always been that of
discrimination

i want to spell things correctly
except that you have the habit of bringing in the wrong word
definitely i still go for secret
gardens and of those caves that appear like waterfalls

i still adore them
for what they are not for all their deceiving appearances
no one is as open as a field of corn now
even the ants have their own secret labyrinths and unusual destinations

to the secret places of the heart you always brag about that
to each her own woman to each his own masculinity
the sharing is but a flash, a flask of feelings discarded like wastes
people meet, make love in the dark, put their clothes own and walk away

it is as simple as that
if you ask for more, the problem of what is right and wrong comes along who shall carry a basketful of guilt for you?
no one, but if you want it, by all means carry it in the parks in the wild
let us see, let us see
how painful can pure be

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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