Liberals make mistakes; Conservatives
Prevent corrections. Precedents in stone
Subvert enduring solutions. Perhaps
Because the opposing ideals are awry?

Political science...In other words
The study of who gets what, where, when and
Why. Striking a balance of one accord
Between the individuals demands,
Societies, and governmental needs.

The fountain of youth exists within us.
To find this rare elixir is the task.
Without it, life is destined for sickness
And brief existence; having, life will last

This sonnet was inspired while celebrating my daughter’s birthday. Everyone was eating cake except me. I hardly ever eat sweets. “A moment on the lips, forever on the hips”.

There is a man standing in the rain in a cemetery in front of his deceased wife's gravesite. He appears to be crying. Her death occurred years ago and left him with everlasting grief.

In everyone's existence certain sights
And sounds have more importance over all
Other things we occasioned. Some excite
Us more today than yesterday, Enthrall

The quiet solitude of the early
Hours of morning while Humanity
Is still asleep, soothes and heals my Psyche.
The hum of my computer while I type
Is the only bearable sound. I succumb

Opinions are like rectums, everyone
Has one. Sadly, assholes have them also.
It’s what comes out: profundity or dumb
Beliefs that make all the difference. Know

There once was a woman who happened to be graced with beauty. She was adorable from the moment she was born. This wholesomeness lasted throughout most of her life. Her eyes were her greatest assets.

Ligeia is my Greek siren singer.
Singing warmhearted songs of happiness
At night, I waking at sunrise to her
Indescribable Psyche* loveliness.
Although oracles consulted are wise

Every morning when weather permits, I ride my bicycle for miles on end. I have been doing this discipline for many years now.

On dusty shelves the books of dated time
Have stood for years. Abandoned, slighted lore
Those years before were favorite pastime
Discussion topics, literati lords

A large collage hangs from my study wall
above my cluttered desk. The photographs
affixed with paste are cleverly arranged.
The colored pictures, twelve in all, fading

Nothing pisses me off the most
than two Tom cats upon a post
tirelessly, persistently, crying
at three o'clock in the early morning.
A thing I'm not keen and tolerant of

“My dear, do you love me?” No, I think not.
A loving foundation is based on trust.
I lost that trust that ties true lovers' knots.
Without it, all love dies and turns to dust.