Liberty's Tree With Its Branches Of Love Poem by cristobal obregon silvertop

I Love that part of the branch that marches that is so divine, with eyes of ruby.

You still, wear those masks and purport to be close to god,

Perhaps I have drawn your portrait too well, and you have no escape, except saint peter at the gates of heaven.

Perhaps You live in hell.

Perhaps one day you will dominate gravity.

Just say I am, i am light refracted, even,

Everything is beautiful, possibly, for a second, depending if you are in heaven and not hell,

MY mouth is the realm of the senses, and is so cruel with jealous people

Gives, drug to the wounded in love, The symphony must be played perfectly.

The dor knob must shine pefect ly.