My novel is my baby, my love, my sole source of pride.
But I love to dabble in poetry as well.
Here is a brief selection of some of my work:
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O Foolish Man
the mystery of salvation, as told from a demon’s point of view
O little man, o foolish man!
How have you so exalted you?
That he would give you chance to live
As though to you existence due –
How can you boast he loved you most?
What proof can you supply? So few
Can say they’ve won and haven’t done
One act to merit such a lie.
Now in the face of Evil’s grace
Your past you now try to deny
And cannot hide the sins that chide
The shame of this illusion? Fie!
What mystery I cannot see
Lets me bear all this confusion?
What sacrifice which could suffice
And wipe the slate of this accusion?
Your pity-lured ‘Eternal Word’ –
Has He your fallen nature pured?
O little man, o foolish man,
Has he now so exalted you?
an imitation of Shakespeare’s Sonnet 18
Must I equate thee with an autumn night?
Thou art more calm and bold and passionate:
Bitter rain can halt the warm wind’s flight,
And winter’s cold hath all too soon a date:
Sometime too dim the ghostly moon doth burn,
And often has his deep, clear sky been grayed;
And every night to day sometime return,
By order of the sequence God hath made;
But thy forever autumn shall not chill,
Nor lose its night’s sweet glory to the day;
Nor shall the others boast they keep you still
When thou are mine, and mine forever stay.
So long as I can breathe, and so can thee,