The Uncouth Poet

In the night, winter-cold

The Uncouth poet wrote notebook full

Flames dancing, crackling heard, was the wooden stove

He’s possess –like, writing words as if hearing untold stories told


Even the mouse of the cabin took notice by pause

On one accord did wolves howl

Coffee cold, bourbon mixed, falls staining the cabin floor


He once stood with scholars room-full, even cursing them all

Claiming his eccentric style cease self-intimacy to be the poet,

But a critical task for which he was called.


Said what one can tell the poet; what is poetry?

Shall thy soul unto them lie? does not the soul speak to the heart?

If any write from the heart; The Poem,

Is not this alone just cause for the poet to be justified?


Snap! Off goes the trap

Unsuccessful the mouse

The uncouth poet from top-lung gives shout

Shut-up you wolves, I’m trying to write!


Slammed door, took notice the cabin floor

The mouse lie dead-still, the mouse was no more

Grabs the bourbon to drink, then drinks more

And again—

The uncouth poet wrote—notebook full

To Reach Such A Depth (The Helpless Friend)

And unto his friend said he:

I have fallen into the abyss
Why seek to save me dear friend
Time I’ve found to be precious
so what hour have you to give


Today, you have been sympathetic
This week, intensely encouraging
The month, willing, but in you fatigue has come
The year’s end is here, and you have gone”


Hopeless! you proclaim is me
Irate, to me you’ve shown to be
speaks now of all the time you have wasted
even regretting giving it to me



Let your anger subside dear friend
For to you I am truly obliged
but to help any out such a depth
in which they have fallen,
you must also be willing to fall inside



Hate and Love on Conquering

And the Prodigal son spoke the parable told unto him by a certain Bishop of Galveston of whom he tarried with a little way. For the bishop provided travel, teachings, and nourishment unto him. And the Bishop spoke unto him teaching the unremitting battle between love and hate saying:


And hate said unto love:
“It is well known of us, that you are the only conqueror of me.

Yet, I’ve heard none speak that I am also the equal conqueror of you.

Is it not so, that countless of your disciples, and your cities have been put to ruins
by me, and my disciples? And my people raise their hands in victory?
Yet, I am known only of that which shall be conquered.”

Moreover, isn’t it true that we are not so different;
are not your power as my power, and use as I use?

I am only reproach because my strike, is first-strike.”

And Love answered him saying:

“Why think yourself as me, and your disciples as my disciples?

Is it not so, with my disciples every defeat of your disciples;

the people raise their hands in victory giving glory unto god.


And even in defeat by your disciples, it is a moral victory.

For all the people before, is added with new people out of compassion?

And all raise up more determined than before to rid themselves of you, and your disciples.


And as for first strike; what reason other than greed and power that you give strike at all.

And with full of his rage charged Hate yelling, “For I am a better conqueror!”


And they both continue to battle unbounded.