Because of life
we cannot see
all of heaven's
majesty;
for all remaining
on the earth
are limited by
the grave's fresh dirt,
and all that we
can grasp and feel
are wounds from grief
that never heal,
they just become
numb with time
and written about
in verse and rhyme.
But this should
not be all we see,
death, that is,
and what's not to be.

Red is a poppy
red is fire
red is love
red is desire
red is the simmer
red is the sun
red is the spark
from a smoking gun
red is the warmth
that fills up
our heart
red is the passion
that tears us apart
red is impatient
red is a sin
red is excitement
whenever we win
red is a pinch
red is a poke
red is convinced
pink is a joke
red is the boil
red is the heat
red is the sizzle
that stops on the street
red is a kiss
red is a hug
red is the good luck
in a lady bug
red is the pulse
red is a blush
red is invigorating
red is a rush
red is God's spirit
living in us
red is the blood
He bled on the cross.

They say that love is blind.
Evidently it also has no sense of smell.
And come to think of it,
Love has poor taste as well.

Not a soul nearby
None of so to speak
As hard as I may try
I am alone

No light for the dark
Nothing worth seeing
Just a walk in the park
I am alone

Time seems to fly
Days months years
I reach for the sky
I am alone

No one to hear you talk
None to play with you
Not a friend to mock
I am alone

This world is too massive
For one person alone
It was meant for masses
I am alone