Ravagers of Poesy,
spear points of denial
Mongol hordes of fancied verse,
spewing dense and vile
Free words they herd together,
to drive toward a cliff
Trampled once they hit the ground
—by verbal hippogriffs
(Buffalo Jump-Sheridan Wyoming: July, 2019)
Reflections Of Self
If a genius chooses not to embrace his gift,
will he live to endure deeper pain
If an artist doesn’t strive to create and unfold,
will she die in a chasm of chains
If a Prophet loses faith and abandons his path,
will he wander a desert unknown
If all lovers grow distant, away from the heart,
will the world lose its hope
—so alone
(The New Room: February, 2021)
Rushing Toward Mediocrity
Let’s all just be average,
no rich and no poor
Excuses our quotient,
single digits the score
Masquerading as fairness,
our heritage veiled
In lock step we march,
voices mute—nothing hailed
(The New Room: February, 2021)