Here are some more of my older poems, coupled with the age at which I wrote them.


What else? - Age: 14

Bullets, bombs, bigamy
Management of companies
Fear of bombs, nuclear energy.
Thoughts drown out by poverty

What else matters?
The only thing lighter than my wallet is my will.
Clothes in tatters
I am starved, my children ill.

Get a job, do what I can-
It takes some cash to have a plan;
To have a dream, small or grand
To live proud is to be a man.

What else can you do?
Bring home the bread but that's all I can provide
Small apartment, a room or two;
Six feet long and eight feet wide.

My childrens' dreams are held higher than mine
Because their dreams still travel in packs
But dreams are hard to come by
When your wallet attacks…



Thessalonica Chaotica - Age: 16

Upon the shores of Galilee
There once lived a paltry Canaanite
With nothing more than a blemished boat
He set out to sea at night

After eleven suns and twelve moons
The man returned to land
Smoke arose from his small home
Which had thereafter burned down to the sand

Hungry and malnourished
The man took rest upon the land
There was not a tear upon his face
For he had faith which in this modern place
No single soul could understand
What more than faith did this man have?


A Tear to the Flame - Age: 16

A line of blood dripped down my cheek
I felt the trickle oh so bleak
My lungs stopped taking breath
For I have violently lost that which I esteemed

A love of virtue – an assumption so wild
Patience so daunting – compassion defiled

For as long as I can recollect
On her heart I had had my sights set
Now that the smoke has settled
She looks at me like I'm a joke she doesn't get  

Expressions of the heart – unfortunately true
Overwhelming power – Allure from you

Drawn to your visage, and beyond what I witness
I drown my self in lies – flood my own heart with pretense
Now the dust has settled
She looked at me like I'm a joke – meaningless

An Opera – I could have written five acts
But tragedies cannot exist without attacks

Shards of my heart did not astound
For she played witness when I fell to the ground
As the catalyst, she pulled the trigger
And the punch line had been found
With a grin she turned the gun around

A tear to the fire – no extinguishing this shame
The flames of desire often lead to burning hate