Child’s Play
I looked at her,
Through the smoke and music.
She studied me from across the table.
I intrigued her,
as she excited me. (more…)
Going Baroque
Out for a stroll through the plaza.
So many sights to behold,
the young,
the old,
and the homeless. (more…)
The Navajo Ranch
Indians grab their rifles, their bows and arrows. Tomahawks in hand, they are off to war.
Painting their faces with the blood of their enemies, chanting and summoning spirits
of protection.
The children hug their brothers and fathers, clinging to them for dear life.
Pontifex Maximus
I toil all day, building building building.
Hard work quenches my tired body
Yet my mind remains open to the sky
Receptive of the Words from the heavens
A Novel Idea
They cannot vote, and for good reason too. Their cold as ice hearts and gnat minded wits cloud their judgement.
Busying themselves with the fineries far too extravagant for their own good, they fuel a deadly arms race.
They are blind, you see, and don’t stop to enjoy the simple things in life, although they’d like you to believe they do.
