My Poetry
Deep Thoughts

These are a few very powerful & moving pieces that I have written in the years past.  Deep Thoughts - That's what they are.

Sitting in a cold room
Surrounded by steel and bone,
Feeling feelings of inhumanity.
What has become of us?
War. Destruction. Fear.
Our Fathers preach Peace.
Liberty. Equality.
But their cries fall on deaf ears.
So eager for our own concerns - 
Blind to our peers.

I spit on the ground that you walk on - 
Not because I hate you,
But because I hate what you stand for.
Your disgust with your fellow-man.
Your hatred of society.
Your feelings that man will never change.
And the hatred of your own fears.

            All this, 
                        I said,
                                To my Shadow...

        And I think he laughed at me.

Outside kids are playing still
in the cold glow of a streetlight,
waging war on time
fiercely fighting night.

Snap and freeze-frame to black
rewind my whole life back
to days gone by, years long out of sight.
I remember when
minutes were long,
the future, my friend . . .
seems a long time since then.
Though its good to be alive
nothings the same now
since dreams I had died
along with my pride.

Funny how this house
just is not home . . .
Messed up. Messed with.
Left to fend on my own
down backstreets, and alleys,
of a soul left alone . . .
Tatters of skin. Fragments of bone.

Outside, all the kids have packed up for the night
the streetlight's burnt out - now well past twilight . . .
Screen doors screech shut
down the neighborhood, but

    The war's not lost yet,
        Not quite.

                       After Spring



            A leaf on a branch after Spring.

                    It buds,
                    and dies.

                            It's here,
                                    And then it's gone.

                            A Leaf . . .
                                                A Life.

                                Crushed . . .

                    By the untimely passing
                                        of a cruel wind.

Sometimes I think people were meant to be strangers.
Never to get to know one another, never to get close enough to damage the heart,
Made older by each new encounter.


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