Freedom of a Fool.

A faith we fancy is that freedom is fabricated and forged for us by our forefathers who fought and forced their foes to forfeit their feud. They fended fiercely and defended fearlessly a fictionalized fact, freedom, filtered with fire and flame. A few fell to be famed fellows of the future while a fraction of the fraternity are farewelled faceless.

All those frigid flashback brought-forth what we framed and fantasized as freewill and forbade freaks to falsify our fascination.

It all falters as we fathom that freedom didn't fade ,but w/o a fons-et-ergo, a foolish fairytale foretold for us to falsely follow a formula for the foremen to fortify the fake façade of freedom while we flounder and they float.

And if we flush and fracture their folderol, we are flagged as flagitious, frauds and fellons.
For the feasibility of freedom is a mere Fuckin Fuckery.

Venetian Princess

She traveled from the clear Australian seas,
To the cold winter of Venice.
Romantically masterpiece as it is,
This piece would cease as wasn't his.

She paradised the ocean on her eyes,
Weeping blue, witnesses of lies.
A tear flows by, as the heaven cries;
Whispering wind, kisses demise.

The fading lamp, frailly shone down;
Reflected beauty, against her golden gown.
But underneath, a ruby and diamond coated crown;
An angel's face, filtered of frown.

And there he stood, on his own.
All alone, in his wooden throne.
A place of stones and bones,
He had always known.

Maybe the night was slow,
The moon had nowhere to go.
But even if, the river delayed her flow,
All the stars, had nothing to show.