Lillith poemI am the firstNot the downfallof manI am no EveAll I asked forAll I wanted wasEqual meansEqual measureNone to subdueBut at our feetFell the earth'Ere she cameI will not be forgottenI will not bedismissedWoman firstI stand strongagainsthypocrite manWhore I amYou loved meso well in darknessBy day You disregardmy rightful placeYet grasp at meMy attentions wantonMy waystoo much my ownSo I languishexiledBut heraldheroine and whoreTo pleadmy own defenseimpossiblewho would listenTo the likesof a womanScorned by heavenAnd banned from hell.
The Truth In NothingMartyred by time, as peace is known, we burn silentlyScreaming nonsense as the masses are lead astray and awryWe find there is none but love; ignored, battered, beaten downStill we crave it all the moreWhat we can't have is green grass and apples, brighter on the other sideGuided by the glimmer of a hope for something betterIt is true beauty to which we are blindTrivial gift of nothing special destined to disappearWe strive without regard for an unseen futureDriven by the will, never sure if we fail or succeedDo we make the attempt, regardless of the repercussionsHaunts the question of an answer unknown.And so we burn
What Is NaturalIn the before timeWhen the circle turned unbrokenHuman hands and feet Pounded out the rhythm of lifeThe storytellers were reveredAnd kin and kith meant everything.In the time of being youngBefore understanding strippedThe bright eyes from manHumanity stood upon the earthEkeing out what he could.Happy to do soWe ran with the buffalo and deerWe listened to the wind in the treesKnowing with certaintyThere was something to learnFrom the speech and deed of each species.The instrument of mans hands Grew fierce with timeNo longer to linger with the divineResisting against the struggle to surviveIt seem
Decisions Times Three SquaredThere is no such thing as a victimless conflict.Peace lay dirty on the table,The bloodshed of war seems cleaner,Closer to the touch and easier to obtain,War most often appears the clearer plan of action,While peace leaves much room for dread,I make these statements from observation,Not from flights of deluded fancy,But for the reasons of understanding, as war is waged,And the warriors of rage on both sides fight,It is the soldiers of peace that are often counted among the dead.
Survival of the FittestAs I travel;- crawling, walking, kicking and screamingI swear to you all I will survive.
Conversation With An AngelThe angel stood stark white before meI could but imagine the purity it retainedHad I not fallen from grace.Come closer, he badeI stepped hesitantly forward, Only a few feet and no more.How far you stand from me, he temptedI answered, I fear what I do not knowBut you do know me, the angel assuredI stared at the ground upon which I stoodCome closer, I heard the cherub urge againStand near me, he offeredRelenting to the request I took a few steps forwardKeep coming, he solicited His hand now held out in my direction.I stared where his feet might have beenHad the light surrounding himBeen not so brilliant.I fol