ere you will find a collection of poems that I have written throughout the years, poems of life, love, friendships and distant places.
Thoughts flowing, Sirocco winds haunting the most barren desert dunes, carving endless formations, building majestic kasbahs and palaces, and shifting from established paradigms. Thoughts reflective of life's awes, hearts in ream, and hearts wedding intuitively the beauty of the uncensored unabridged word. What we often fail to utter in the open, for fear of upsetting life's chaotic balance.
Poetry is a cross between a French fry and a freedom fry, when it unites and creates a freedom French fry. Poetry can also amalgamate sense and meaning to fry French freedom, or free the French from fries altogether. What's in it for a poet? It depends. I love freedom, and French fries. The French happen to be part of the equation, I love them too, and I love the power of the word that allows a poet to build love among ruins or plead to the destructive forces that prevent love and happiness from taking place.
When people refer to poets as insane lonesome schizophrenic creatures, I smile grudgingly, knowing that poets are never alone, and the world they create and paint as they please, is always the most colorful rewarding state of mind: Poetry is the metaphore of life.
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