In the unsure pain of my heart
I kept my pulse beating...

A collection of words
From the nib of my pen...

Poverty is not a calling,
Even if the priests think it is...

Is pride power?
Think of that woman...

For thought processes
And decisions to be made...

Born bastard,
Beast of no nation, gender or tribe...

The voyagers beheld the sky intently
'Will it rain...

Up
In the sky...

Esoteric realities are round us
But we are too busy to notice...

Again
We meet...

Rich and poor people
Have the same trouble...

What critics may think improbable,
Today I saw with my own eyes...