I am a poet who writes in virtual pen
I ponder over the passions and predicaments of Man
I hear silenced sentences shouting out loud
I see fragments of words lost in a crowd
I am a poet who writes in virtual pen
I pretend that pain is a means to an end
Words are on what my creativity depends
Accumulated wisdom weeps willows of fear
As pixeled pipers lead masses of Man by the ear
I am a poet who writes in virtual pen
I have found that the purpose of life is to live
To open closed pores of society's skin
I pray that we wake up before it's too late
And rewrite the lines of humanity's fate
I am a poet who writes in virtual pen
As I post this self portrait in the cyber sky
I wonder if my words will provoke silent whys
I invite all minds to co-create with me
Our individual selves through virtual poetry
Man is an island of thought and emotion
Floating purposefully on aimless seas
Confusion and conflict float on his waters
Bleeding and aching debris
...
Naked wastelands of monotony
Exhausting days of bruising suns
Under a lee of memory
Wayward winds churn crystals to dust
...
Chaotic pieces of tinted glass
Kidnap loitering light
Slivered images of a history
Pause in fluid flight
...
In an Arboretum of towering trees
The major attraction is the topiary
Visitors flock to this botanical art
Deaf to the tidings of twisted bark
...
Syllables plunge into an ancient songbook
Octaves and sestets of obsessive love
Perusing Petrarch's Canzoniere
Iambic portrayals of Laura de Noves
...