Writing poetry is like making love:
if you have to force it, stop.

TOD HOWARD HAWKS

Simone, Simone
I'm all alone.
Simone, Simone
I'm all alone.
Simone, Simone
please come to me
and bear your breast
for me to rest
my weary head
and shattered heart
upon a part
so soft and warm.
Simone, Simone
I'm all alone.
Simone, Simone

Tod Howard Hawks

WHY DO WE LIVE?

Why do we live?
We die, but it is not the end;
it is but a step.
Life is an illusion,
but a necessary one.
The illusion of finite life
is the pathway
to reality, to infinity,
to Cosmos, to enlightenment,
which is PURE LOVE. Paradoxically,
the axiom we follow unconsciously
is know truth by untruth.
The journey to become PURE LOVE
takes innumerable lives,
but when we do become enlightened,
our soul, now PURE LOVE,
need never return to Earth,
but becomes forever one
with reality of PURE LOVE that
has no form, no beginning, no end.

TOD HOWARD HAWKS

I know there are many here who pray,  
So if my words aren't yours today,  
Please turn away, for this is mine—  
A truth I carry, yours not to define.  

When they speak of God, their voices pure,  
I can't take it in, can't feel secure.  
For God was not there when I called,  
In moments dark, when I had fallen.  

I search for answers in the silence, deep,  
Wondering why I was left to weep.  
So when they speak of faith and grace,  
I question if it's just a trace.  

I don’t deny their right to believe,  
But in my heart, there's a different weave.  
For God was absent when I needed light,  
Leaving me alone in the longest night.

I'm the fruit you left
to die on the vine
so don't be surprised
when I don't give you my time.

A world, hidden in a lover's eye—
Outsiders ought not to oversee.
It's where anything can come by,
Where ordinary would be a beauty.

Yes, dear reader,
It's the lover's eyes,
A realm much deeper,
Where all the magic lies.

Don't turn away,
Don't shun the flame
Let it softly stay—
It's love, not shame.