A collection of early poetry

The Deepest Star

I see the stars from my window
And think about what lies beyond
Is there life on the other side If they came here would they belong?

Or have they actually arrived?
The quiet, introverted boy
Who sits by himself, never talks
His silence is his planet’s joy

I look at the boy lost in space
The constellations are his brain
The blue-green earth is his appearance
His looks, a deceiving campaign

I snap back into human life
And turn away from the window
My mind drowns in Milky Way pearlescence
And the thought that we’re not alone.

If Violence is the Answer I Don't Want to be Right

Brandishing the future as like a knife
The past and the present are tumours benign
Counterpointed by designs for good times
Your death will come, cessation of life

Out of my view, lost in the dew, you slithe
Metaphorical jabberwocky, alive
Under the universe, violence’s bride
Truly something you cannot deny

The sun rises forever and a day
Night-time is foreboding, forthcoming, it may
End the day and create a world so fake
Begin anew from the dew, you say

Celebration is life's cessation and
Death engulfs us with its blue brand.

Passage of the Seasons (a haiku in three stanzas)

Cherry blossom comes
Springing from the bleak winter’s
Deathly cold treetops.

Hibernating moles
Emerging from solitude
The sun, it blinds them.

Summer is far but
You can hear autumn over
The rebirth of leaves.

This Title Has Been Censored

Choice is essential to our lives
Restricted by the lords of war

Emancipation at a price
When freedom should be free

Only the rich can free themselves
Rules for thee, but not for me

Born just to kill our minds, they laugh
As they violate Lady Liberty.