Sometimes the greatest poetry…

Rage, silent storm;

Is the absence of any.

The quiet, heavy ladled

Only over the story..

Power un-endowed.

You would tell, but refuse.

Respect me, or I will blow your memory like dust into the wind.

You do not deserve any acknowledgment from my breath.



You throw your stones
I drop my own
You claim to love, but drown and disown

You hunt the truth like it’s a wild beast
Unleashing all your traps 

And like a thief, you string it up
(Never mind it’s dead and hung)

You beat the Truth with mindless fists
And claim you know it in your righteousness. 

“You are weak,” you say to me.
but I am strong enough to see
that you’re no more than a Pharisee.