Raymond Farrell Poems

You ask me
Where must I go
To be happy?
My answer
...

When democracy
Finally ends
Every person
Will be lined up
...

My grandfather
Used to talk about
All the matchmaking that went on
Up and down the valley
...

If reality
Was not stranger than fiction
Life wouldn't be half
As entertaining as it is at times
...

There are times
When this tool
With its razor sharp blade
That cuts with
...

The sower that sows
And the reaper who reaps
Whether one and the same
Or the labor is divided
...