Avenue Of Love
The modern and broad avenue of love
Creates a prison for the rectangles of hate.
Invented by the holder of pencils
I hate all of the worse points and
Am no enemy to the insane people of doubt.
A craft has been a wallet or purse,
Fluffy pockets hold perfect stones
That curdle the blood for what it connives.
The heart is a fountain of intellect
Wondering in the breezy country
Called life and existence of the many.
I am in front of a scrawny tree
That bulges and delivers the babies
We see in the news this little time.
My maze is solved by the absolute
Maker of proud warfare and charms.
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