April 11, 2019




God gave us flowers

And man said NO!

God gave us these lands

And man said MINE!

God gave us the waters

And we attempted to cleanse our sin

God gave us the sky

And man whispered back in a plume of smoke

God gave us flowers

And man said no.



The Ugly Truth


People often ask

Me to pen

Them a sonnet

To make them the art

In a part of it

Poetry is something

That comes naturally

When a beauty so profound

Asks to be understood

While allowing itself

To be written on paper

When it is forced

And it often is

It becomes something ugly

Capable of bearing

One undisputed truth

That ugly

Resides somewhere

Deep inside the poet.





If I had a quiver

That contained

A thousand arrows

I would helplessly

Aim every last one

At beautiful you.



Paper Thin


I wonder

Oh, great creator

How you could create

Such a man

To make him ache and suffer

Then destroy him so

Yet is this not the fault of man

To make suffering

So unbeautiful

To write upon paper

One must apply pressure

We are slow

To realize our every


As if only

The very next breathe

Matters Look at all you

Little men

So afraid of death

Why should we fear

Something so inevitable?

Everything on this planet

Must meet its end here

There is grace

And only grace

To be found in the hands

Of death

When one has lived properly

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