An ode to a beggar, who sits on his stoop.
One can't study to fight when you're begging for food.
The best ways to **** will go over your head.
Taking a nap you'd much rather instead.

While the brave and the foolish go marching to war.
The beggar just sits, thinks about it no more.

Hail to you ol beggar, with no blood on your hands.
In your ***** rags you don't hide weapon plans.
Hail to you ol beggar, blessed are you in your stride.
Hail to you ol beggar, on the enemie's side.

Perhaps one day later when the boys become men.  
When those who are left, travel home once again.
Damaged or whole, they will perch on the stoop.
And the old, weary beggar will command his new troop.

see, I loved you with everything I had
and I know you loved me the best you could without loving yourself
you were fighting demons of your own design
doing everything you could to calm the eternal flames rising from your core

I spent years begging them to possess me instead
years fighting for you to love me in a way you couldn't

in the end, I got what I had been begging for

now, I am trying to dampen the flames rising from my core
fighting demons of my own design

a man sits
at the bottom
of the steps
not blocking the path
but he cannot be missed
begging alms
from the myriad
who climb and descend
in droves
the cup he holds
is barely weighted
by the meagre amount
he has received
he patiently wishes goodwill
to all who pass
despite their lack of offerings
even though
the majority will ignore
purposefully averting their eyes
or apologetically decline
to part with
any lose change
instead saving their coins
to pay their entry
to marvel at
the gilded interior
of the church
whose teachings include
"love thy neighbour"

Master of Arts
The soul of mine, I cannot find!
I’m lost in the ocean, amongst crashing waves — I’m almost blind!
Mastering of Arts, I beg of you — let the fates be kind

I have been good, haven’t I?
I’ve fed my body well and kept my healthy veins —
... my mistake was that I hadn’t fed another
anything but grains —
But, I don’t understand? I too am a man!
with needs of my own, and I support a wealthy land!
I have wives that lay by me, I feed them well with my hand
Is that not enough for you master? Sight o’foreseeable! What comes of me now? too lay like a fish? I hope that comes by faster!

The waves ripple,
the water crashing by at my feet
I scatter away, frightened by the coming dribble
The sky was turning dark — an upcoming storm was to pass by, I had no shelter and nothing here to eat

My stomach growled, too loud of a sound
It had been awhile since it’d done that, I was always kept satisfied
Now, nothing’s here — not fishes nor ground
The sky roared, electrified
The storm was approaching too soon!
No blues, No light loomed
Overhead. Only the thundering boom.

Too much to bear! Too much too weigh!
Oh Master of Arts!
I’m sorry I hadn’t looked down the lanes!
I saw them too, Ah! They had been too frail and somber!
Starving all day!

Forgive me, Master! I won’t make another...
the seas are crashing courses with their waves,
Stronger each time, “I don’t have all day to be saved!”
But lightning struck, and I swore to keep my place in line
now isn’t the time to be a swine!

Selfishness is another seed to be taken, enough to make you blind
Master of Arts
I swear to you,
I’ll pay more mind
to the frail, aching bodies of the souls
in need
I have enough — I swear it! — to feed!

Master of Arts,
Let the fates be kind..
I swear I have changed, my mind, my acts, my scroll
Amidst all
I have realized
My role