Digging into the dusty depths of my memory To unearth some detail of sudden recall… Remembering where I put a thing I had years ago, and wondering if I should still have it after all this time. I think that If we kept things as long as we keep memories, Maybe we’d all have more …
A trap’s plight is not in its catch, but in its purpose… To engage and outwit; Without cunning, but with bait – Those in its clutches rarely aware of the coup until almost too late.
In quite mindless fashion, we’re often first to answer questions – and yet, last to question the answers.
I’m not an alcoholic, but I could’ve been because how easy it is to drench all my problems in wine, and forget them – But I always seem to take the hard roads.
Once, I wrote a poem that could’ve changed the world… If I could just remember the words, I could do it again. But it only lived briefly in my mind; I never write the good ones down.
Ninja; quiet stealth… Outcome, unexpected. Trappings – wealth. A spy of her own decry. The world never wooed me, But its potential Does.
I am spider – spinning theory [of] silken thread. My captures untrapped… My body of work, Untapped. And then there’s me; Masterful Outlier… …as yet, unmatched.
Try to play along But it’s exceedingly clear You’re not happy to have me And I’m not happy here.
True wealth is the wealth of the soul
Poetry, story and real life. Once soldier, busnessman, grandfather and Poet.
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