A man of his words
I could never be
Nor a man of deeds

Oftener time my commitments
Lay broken like shards of glass
Dead as the trampled seeds!

Good words are easier said
Good deeds are not easier done
Words not kept are loan unpaid
Good work left undone!

It’s sad that oftener time I fail
Spoken words I let them rust
If I weigh myself in an honest scale
I have been too long unjust!

Good deeds undone are forever lost
Good words are wasted dearly
When I think of the ones it cost
I can’t say I feel heavenly!

Narrow streets confuse
gunpowder and mint infuse
senses to the muse

My friend Billy loves
living his life on the edges,
he's married to a warrior-woman.
He told me once he loved warrior-women,
just didn't like being hitched to one.
I'm still trying to figure
out that conundrum.

immortal is to die
it is
when arrives

(cleanly)

out of jerking
lances of
mysterious night

kisses gargantuanly slender

(as the petals of a poppy are slender)

meet furiously with knowing
and becomes unknowing

(faster than a lips become
nothings easily)

eeking from brief impossible slumber
the crisp whiteness of its noose

to hang by all men
instantly into dying forever