My ancestors hate me?

The calligraphy of incensed smoke fills my thoughts,
Staring at his mouth calling my aunts and uncles
Who seek a slab over my unbreathing head.
Is this where dreams all come to die? Where the
Maker warned we will be misled into cavorting with Evil?

Do it for Love

Romeo fell up the balcony while the bats
Roamed the sky, catching the bugs in his
Poetry. The melody cast a shadow at Juliet’s
Door and with his head over her heels,
Her heart was gripped by the lyrics
Pouring into the secrecy of that instant.


…Some say stop counting the dead, for dread needs a father.
So as I toss and turn, afraid the virus gets anymore fodder, …