Stamped out errors on vintage coins
a unique response to a phrase just turned.

Maybe a club only agoraphobics joins
or the number of times an Eskimo gets burned.

Several, icy-cold, mid-summer breezes
a moment so magical, it makes you aware;

even the causalities from unknown diseases
all of these things equal something, rare.

All my life I've tried to be unique
with my individuality defining me, too;

thinking out of the box, and resembling a freak,
yet proud my own signature still shined through.

Thinking people have asked
questions which perplexed
the mind of man on the nature of self
and of the universe in which it exists

Should a self-sufficient God
complete in Itself
create an imperfect earth
and place within it living things?

That would be so
if they were separate

Whereas we look for answers
for a purposeful cause
with limited senses
in mysticism, philosophy and religion

Those brooding eyes and tensed brow had mystery
Questions need answers, and She was curious
With a slow dance of seduction, she bound him,
made him a prisoner

He smiled and endured for a score of years
She never figured out, what his mystery was
Losing interest long ago
Left alone in his cell of despair, he plotted...

Coils of cold, slithered in to wrap around his soul
There were lies in the mirror; he heard them whispering
Eyes followed him wherever he went, and he knew...
The world conspired against him

There was a young man from Mauritius
Who found eating pussies nutritious
Roasted boiled or fried
It cannot be denied
That the meat was sublimely delicious

May the darkness accept the light
and shadows cringe no more
may distance be surpassed and unsurpassed
by its own beauty breaking through
my heart to yours,
your heart entwining mine;
may we touch the embraceable
with its untouchable mystery
may we speak the language
of love in its ten thousand intonations,
may we use our time wisely
to join forces with the light no clever darkness
can escape,
may we always be children
in wonder of it all
dancing in the flame,

A middle aged man worked in the market
Doing a bob-a-job to make a living
He carried baskets of banana and beans
And collected stipends for body and soul

With wheel barrow, he rolled in the goods
From the road to the sellers’ stalls inside
In and out he ran to catch up with the day
While dirt covered him from head to toe

When evening came he packed his kit
And picked up his tattered umbrella
With pockets full of small bills and coins
He set his steps to meet his wife at home

I felt something lingering near
terrifying and unforgiving
waiting somewhere.
The noise of living broke
into a silence, fading pale
and I fell into dreaming.

I dreamed of rivers flowing crimson red
fields of wheat burning black
flames ripping through raging skies
I saw angels with dark wings spread
singing unholy litanies
souls lost to Heaven on their knees
God was dead…

The world needs more
Positive poets and friends
like you and many

We all are just passersby
here today,
Tomorrow where will we be?
Who that can ever say

I am your friend
I say for just
Today…

This Workshop is a joy to employ
So don't be coy, consider your ploy
To profit from rhyme experience

Getting fatter has never been better
Filled with inner poetic meter
Bulging rhyme skills, bloating knowledge

The 2011 Oktoberfest Carolina Princess, happy
My pageant baby, excited, given a penny
She added to her calculate piggy's many

Just as, contented poets, delighted
Write great poetry, enlighten
By leaders more than excited

My window is the world.

A patch of light illumines
the Autumn leaf,
shimmers its veins,
its seminal understanding
of life in its transitional story,
I had two raspberry eyes and ten mulberry
fingers as a child,
I grew until I weighed myself down;

I picked flowers.