jesus christ superstar is my personal lord and savior of the world and of my life because i believe in him like i believe in my faith that i have had since i was just a young little thing i cannot define my faith but my faith defines me and makes me who i am…

they take no time but all the time they take a pile of leaves left without a rake as they rake you over the coals all the while exposing the holes in their illogical interpretations they put forth as reparations for those of us who are concerned about that and this sort of thing a…

I am not yet old but I am not still young: A relic of the past but a child of the future. I have died many a times yet still I live– Whether I thrive or wither is forever A twister I cannot begin to untwist, no Matter how much I might beg or wish.…

let it flow poetry rule number one is to have no rules or rhythm meter can go to hell as can all else that flows not in the flow of poetry let the poem rise and fall with the cadence of time and times a time that each moment should be a monument of monstrosity…

I cannot tell what makes for a good poem. is it the line br- eak? or the rhyme and meter? the way it feels or thrills or–? is it the end rhyme that makes a poem a poem? or is it the blood, sweat, and tears shed that makes a poem a poem? or is…

“A poem is supposed to rhyme!” But really? All of the time? What about the meter That counts out each line So the next one is sweeter Each and every time? What about slant rhyme That doesn’t really rhyme But kind of does each time It is put at the end of a line? Or…

Bleed out my soul upon the page for no good reason, other than ex- hibitionism of the self, naked be- fore the naked eye of humanity for discourse, dialogue, dissec- tion. Cut me up into a million pieces of tiny, little, minute in- crements in the type of words, and let each one say, speak…

Long have I, like many others I have heard, sought the key to unlock the door to enter in upon the path of life. Once, I spoke with another who also sought the answer in overcoming her very own wickedness in vice, which indeed resided within her own heart and mind– though the truth she…

Thou art dried up and dead as a waterless root Of some vegetation which is not hardy with The tumultuous times of trivialities that travail Even the most arduous and diligent cedar– Yea, even that of Lebanon upon which falls The dew of Heaven each morning unto mid- Day, when thereupon shines forth the sun,…

the copyright is necessary at the end of every poem as a statement of being and being copyrighted by the poet who spilled ink, blood, sweat, tears into the poem now read. if there is no copyright, then there is a chance that the poem will be free and loose, which is not proper or…