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Poem
A lone blade of grass

The sense of nature sweet with fragrance flourishing

In times of uncertainty marked on a blotted page
Within solace we release its pain,
Shouts of madness torn asunder.
Pilgrims progress sharpened its pencil

Insanity

Marked on a blotted page yet fully intact
When will we act our age,
In demonic torn relics of suede in billows creation
To frolic in the inner ambiance of the day

A humble way by which to bow the knee to pray

Although its shivers down my spine in frolic
Insanity
In chosen ambiance onto its beckoning call,
The way of a poor child after the fall

Then marked on a blotted page all alone

With emmense inner conflict & pain
Shoulder to cry after the rain
A quiver of the nerve pressed on a heal in sore vex plight
Insanity

Innocent killings of the unborn in their mothers womb
To ceil their tomb from harming fumes
Insanity
Bras being burned in our streets

Children returning to war zones we call schools

The march of the soldiers & fools
The eclipse of the sun had tainted my inner vision
A quest for power in sore derision
A decision of laughter in the height of the wind

A feeling of neglect by which one faintly can depend
Shouts of praise filled with sounds of laughter
The preparation of a guest to await the great here after
Insanity

Children having baby's & crazy
Crimes of the innocent in the blood on our streets
Getting crazy in the linens on the sheets
Crazy music as we learn another timely beat

A heart pulse torn in a crazy way,
A different dance display
A laughter in the rain
A page of intellect in my brain
A bridge in circumstance amidst the pain

Sadness in the heart again
Perhaps its best to hold my breath
Then count to the number ten
In shadows the darkness creeps in

Society is going straight to Hell!
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