Construction not Destruction Poem by Cristobal Benjumea

Construction not Destruction

Its childish the way, my golden girl, you öike, breaking my precious collection, of porcelain sculptures
We all like a bit of fun, we wouldnt be human, if we didnt, but we like to think we are masters, of matter, not slaves of matter.
enough to be makers of destiny
So lets rove, through the green garden, of magnolias, kiss , avoiding, the thorns, for fun
Delving into the deep, then extatic, allways in motion.
We are talking my song, no more forests, or maybe eastern forests
Music and beat
Satisfied at last, in this urban city under the sun,
Plenty of stars at night, time to be sentimental, as we glance momentarialy aside, and think of the past, for the meaning of life, that salts our food

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