International Poet

For My Rivals I don't want to lapse into the promiscuity. Lapsed Idealisms obscurity. As around me religions and religious' fail. Nor do I want to write my poetry and prose. From within the confines of some jail? Or see my poetry turn into the paperwork? For someone else's love affairs? Rather I'd see my heart turn against? The sacrilegious acts of The Pen. Clutched in the uncaring money stained hands. Of, my rivals, other men.

Trial Rightful or unjust? It's the place of claims and pleas and lies. Questions reverberate on the corridors of the mind. The hall is crowded and all want to get into the court room. It's the place where I defended rapists, crooks, the man-eater and the vivisector. But who will defend me, the most terrible monster of all? A long row of corpses turn up, they were all called to testify.

Cowboys On The Range I. Cowboys on the range Adapt to wilderness life And arid deserts! Riding on a horse The cowboy aims the rope's loop Towards a bull's head! Cowboys wearing chaps Firing rifle into air To herd the cattle! The sun starts to set They guard the cattle at night When the wolves come out! Full moon in May's spring The mountain lion wakes up To search for a meal! II. The cold evening bites Cowboys prepare a bonfire To cook a man's meal! Cowboys love music He grabs a guitar and sing Country music rules! The fire warms the skin Hands become warm over flames Branch turns into ash! A hot chicken soup So soothing to tired cowboys It perks up the soul! Barbecue chicken Corns, hotdogs and marshmallows One delicious meal! III. Silver moon appears A pack of wolves start to howl Ready for a kill! He shoots in the air To scare the wolves on the prowl Terror lurks at night! Cattle huddle close Upon hearing the wolves' voice Sounds of great horror! Howling wolves st...

Ideals Snow-covered mountains, ancient monuments, a north wind that nods to us, a thought that flows, images imbued with hymns of history, words on signs with ideals of geometry.