Poems
What is war
but a cycle
of never-ending murder
over a silly prospect
introduced by humans
in the first place?
One war ends,
tension begins,
another pops up
in its place.
If people are truly
intelligent enough
to realize what war
has done to man,
why not end it
altogether?
The leaves of willow
Wave slightly in morning breeze;
Faint rustling heard.
Emaciated,
The silent bows of willow
Bend under the leaves.
Blooms carried aloft
Cast dappled, moving shadows
On wind-swept grassland.
Willow stands silent,
A beautiful autumn morn,
Bells ringing faintly.
Drooping willow leaves
Dip slightly into water,
Ripples emanate.
Autumnal winds blow,
Colored leaves scratch on the ground:
Winter is coming.
a single tree
alone in the ground…
I’ll plant company
willows’ leaves
glide lazily across
the smooth water
I sit beneath
the willow tree
and write
rain pummels
the ocean’s waves;
o, the music!
the ant crawls onto my waiting finger
a waterfall
shimmers down
the mountainside
thunder claps;
the mountains resonate
under the water
of the river:
silt
sunlight shines
through the trees;
rustling leaves
Wind solemnly blows
The bare, clawed branches of fall,
As Halloween comes.
Disunity
Disunity is the ill of the world, as
The plague is the death of the body.
One question I ask, then, is why
These religions think they’re the one way?
The reason, I think, must be arrogance,
As surely as plague’s caused by fleas.
Yet no-one has realized it, and so
It’s been allowed greatly to flourish.
