It starts off like climbing a tree or solving a puzzle – poetry, if nothing else, is just fun to write. But deeper into each and every piece, you no longer hesitate to call it...

I’ve played Romeo for Juliet(But in depth)It’s vignettes of silhouettes(And then read)And watched Russian roulette, yeah red SovietYet doing it simultaneouslyWhile dropping down shed oubliettesTurned around and took truth to the head thatLove is the...

A good poem has rhyming but no ending, it continues to rhyme in our heart.

All shadows of clouds the sun cannot hide like the moon cannot stop oceanic tide;but a hidden star can still be smiling at night’s black spell on darkness, beguiling

I wonder at the starry pattern in the skyAre they little pieces of moon which want to fly..?

I’m falling apart, one part after another. Falling down on the world like snow. Half of me is already on the ground, watching from below.

Let all the green leaves be mineas long as the trees define shades created by their limbsfor the soil made with victimsof atrocity’s vileness to redeem the fragileness

Mondays taste like split-pea soup,Tuesdays taste like gobbledygook,Wednesdays taste like licorice,Thursdays taste like deep-fried fish,Fridays taste like the color red,Saturdays taste like gingerbread,Sundays taste like chicken breast,But birthdays! Birthdays taste the best!Birthdays taste like chocolate...

This is almost always the case: A piece of art receives its f(r)ame when found offensive.

I’ve finally decided to write about profit for a changeBut before I really started I already started to feel lameBaby what’s it to a beast who manely to money remains untamed

Before he got too far, he thought he smelled a fire.No sooner did he blink before he sensed something dire.He heard a sound and froze, danger tickling his nose.His ears perked up as tiny cries...

Kat held her head high as she met the King’s eye.Her stare was bold, yet sweet, and it would not die.Gansevort looked down into these dark, green pools.And soon his tone softened as he bought...