Gender Warfare

​It’s a war quite unlike any other

As too many 

Men and Women duke it out seek

To prey upon 

Each other the happiness they seek 

To grasp slips 

Through their fingers as they curl

All The tighter 

Into a fist of hate when they could 

Have solved

Their problems working together 

The Story Teller

​Upon the bench the old man 

Sits within the park 

Listening to the pigeons coo

From his brown paper

Bag his fingers take the bird

Seed he brings each

And every day to feed his fine

Feathered friends as 

They gather round about and 

Listen to his many 

Tales of tragic love of many 

Battles won and

Some lost thrilling stories of 

Yesteryear now

Gone abandoned by his friends

With each telling 

He relives the past awaits death

My Own Space

Within the cage of your expectations 

My heart is entrapped 

Longs to be free of your mind games


All my heart desires is a place 

To call it’s own 

Where it can roam unchained 


My needs are quite simple a 

Rented room will do

Anywhere I can call my own 


Where you cannot follow 

Seek to stifle 

My independent thinking