The poet in me has died
I scratch around in the recess of my mind...

Will you be there when my dreams come true?
When it comes to the matters of the heart...

In this life you have to understand your niche
Listen to the echoes of past reasoning...

I got me a monkey on my back
related to my knife and fork...

Back in time, now lost in noise and silence
Relegated to what seems to be another life...

Can you foretell tomorrow?
The past lives in my poems...

It’s hard to believe in summer
In the dead of winter...

bees and pollen
rabbits and head lights...

Authentic love is the only love there can be
One night stands can not and will not compare...

God means different things to different people
You cannot run away from that one...

what is it with the waking hour?
words scampering to reach my page...

This is not a fair world
Some of us are born clever than others...