Tag Archives: Poem

Mourning Our Nations Decline

My country where is she?
Buried by diversity, bled dry by thieves.
Our fathers would have cried,
To see the day she died,
as I flee to the mountains high,
I weep for thee.


A Faux Pas

When conversing with a lady
There are some things a man should never do,
Like comparing the shade of her eye shadow
To an oyster shells green hue,
Especially if the exquisite beauty of a coppered emerald shell
Was an aspect of the oyster she’d never seen or knew.