“You gotta let your poems sing, ma… the old poet said. His red ball cap perched atop his… like a lonely old moment of youth, covering a mind alive with creativ…

This little book of rhyme holds captive my heart. No, my mind’s the real upstart. Credit to my heart’s a crime. Desperation took the real blow

The ladder is before you Will you climb? Well of course you will You have the time Those first rungs are easy

I shall make for me some natural herb tea, my unquestioning remedy, for what, to me, remains elusive..… a good night’s sleep.

Winds like giant breaths spoke life into the dead with a chilling verse. This was a night to reanimate

If I could pray, I would pray that you all enjoy your lives. Final, but not ultimate, enjoyment of the self and restlessness.

I really wanted to die underneath that heavenly blue sky, and leave behind the tensions and… and float upwards and away from th… No longer called a buffoon,

A long time ago I wrote a poem for a girl whose beauty and grace was captivating, enthralling but who was also

At first, I was the reveling masq… In a dozen wanton nights, with a lack of fright for social a… I sought to receive. I sought to breath

Lined up the gunmen with sparkling garments, one by on… spelled doom for the poor prisoner who gazed at the setting sun. The pompous captain stood tall,

There’s a little bit of blood on my breathe. My blood, breathing, within vitality

I sat in a lowly lit room in a harsh winter night, fallen into a sense of despair and feeling brutalized by life.