- Non-Erotic Poetry
- But for the grace of man...
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I still remember
where I was
when smoke billowed
from obscene torches
thrown with loathing
and deadly precision
Each tower folded into itself
monuments to life
casually discarded
souls floating down
transmuted into memory
a plea to love
a homage to life lived, small and large.
Each a sacrifice to man's supreme misunderstanding.
Hate dispensed recklessly
yet with the utmost careful planning.
Evil wrapped in righteousness
coddled tightly to chests
holding shrunken hearts
smothered by envy and blindness.
All cries muffled into the same sky,
brown and gritty and
mute with unspeakable sorrow
Note: There is no worse evil than that which we perpetrate upon each other.
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