POEMS NOT PUBLISHED 

In Question

 

In truth, I ask sincerely,

Can a flower blossom without dying;

Just as I also inquire,

how can my love for her be forever faithful without falsifying?

 

I know, and I believe,

Us humans are beautiful but God is brutal;

For He, positions us in an awkward situation;

Which is hard and forever futile.

Something About Jesus

 

Something about a child born in a stable

Something peculiar born by a virgin;

Raised by a carpenter on behalf of a spiritual father

Something in a world filled with sanctimoniousness chagrin.

 

Something about changing water into wine

Making the blind see and cripples walk;

Something about raising a man from the dead

Something in a world that can hardly talk.

 

Something about a last supper and betrayal;

Something about an arrest, a trial, a crucifixion;

And while the whore loved him so much

Four of his friends wrote something called fiction.

 

Remaining Scars

 

While the scars of the past still remain,

the wounds haven’t closed since the sixties,

when I was merely eight years old.

 

In a large part,

because of the abuse, I got

from a paedophile.

 

To be honest with me

I have to recall the scars of yesterday.

It's all about being molested.