Sonnet #14

Finding faith in the strangest of places,
Everlasting freedom coursing through my veins,
It seems like the saddest thoughts keep me sane.
Truth is, I’m puzzled by frowning faces.

Sure, I still worry. But I am not dead.
Life is ours to make of it what we must.
Love is ours to share with those whom we trust.
Let lovers speak of the arts in their head.

Here’s to the Eastern winds on wintry nights.
She is the flower I’m always missing.
She makes skies twinkle and hearts believing.
She the season that inspires delight.

Break free. Run wild. Always smile. And stay sweet.
Still Love resides in all the hearts I meet.


Old School Poetry

Unbekownst to God
Oracles hold fate in their hands:
The fate of nations, the fate of Earth.

Where do we begin with our power?
How do we start to perfect disaster?

Hope crumbles into chaos.
The world burns because we can’t burn bridges.
How foolish we are.
How fickle our dreams.

We must begin again and sort through the shit
To find what is in the best interest of humanity,
For the universe may depend on it.