I wonder how many poets died with voices unheard How many minds were robbed from the herd The amount of people with beautiful science in their mind Forced to neglect, to go through everyday’s struggle and grind Why must a bountiful mind, heart, and soul Be deemed poor, unworthy of naught but a cull Forget the dreams that only individuality could have created Instead of thought as weird, obtuse and be always berated Now, in the age of the God of technology and advance Yet creativeness is merely building on the same stance No more does culture just flourish And left are to to only nourish Upon the teat of the juggernaut And it kills free thought Pliant must the black sheep be Unless it loves a life of misery
I'm merely a wanderer, seeking to set roots and call somewhere home, It's rather tiresome to be at the whims of the wind. So, for now at least, DC is home-base for me. Always hoped to one day be a published writer/poet, but I fear this art is a dying one. If I must be one of the last standard-bearers of it, then I would call myself lucky.
Young love comes to call only in the end to fall in the beginning like a river it flows in the bitter end like dried and cracked autumn leaves it blows It enchants you like the suns rays and hypnotises
With the essence of elegance, And with the timelessness of beautified brilliance, My mind knows there’s not a word in existence, That could ever explain or express, What my eyes see in this moment that’s left my world in a
An Ariana Grande concert was struck by an explosion in northern England on 22nd May 2017 killing at least 22 people and injuring many there was a massive flash and then a bang and smoke all around hundreds of people
Wading in your memories. Through an orange smoke. Against a mirror, a lake shrinks. Days are smaller now licking the night I will count the candles Of your birthday. A haunted landscape scoops a wedding of a flame with a