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An Errie Time

This is an eerie time
To make a living out of turning words into numbers
The parable of the sower cannot save you
And you try to save yourself by turning words into gold

I Don’t Know How

I don’t know how I could sleep-
Oppression reigned my night;
Trains of onerous thoughts trampled
My mind, squeaking against

Life Of A Cockroach

There was a cockroach, struggling
To survive on Christmas night,
Away from its hidden nook, naked to all,
Out into the unknown, for just a nibble;

A Strifeless Walk


I shall not be far away,
From the lapping sea gently calling me;

My Heart Is Sinking

My heart is sinking
Before the hustling crowd
Whose words are heavy
As their sights are loud.

In A Siesta

I met Cupid the other day
Lounging alone in the tranquil park,
By the lively lake, on the soft-thatched clay,
Where love was vowed in lay by faithful larks.


Why have you been so cold, consuming Life,
That has swallowed my youth in scathing Strife
For nothing- you motley, wild clay,
Have you ever sat out a sinless day?

A Commoner's Complaint

Must I sing my prayers as I was taught,
While blatant atheists are never caught?
Fie, fie, hark how those obstreperous feasts
Abuse the decent night, where bloodshot men

Many A Night I Ask The Stars On High

Many a night I ask the stars on high,
For whom a sylph aloft like thee would fall.
They neither crawl away nor draw on nigh,
Seeming not care to heed my plea at all.

Lie No More

How with the track of time can we withstand,
When Gaiety has become my enemy,
And let me not enjoy her company,
With whom my hours have lavishly been spent?

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7/24/2021 4:52:42 PM #