A Poem Named Short

I Won't Compromise

I Won’t Compromise

I won’t back down, take down, step away, step back or quit; I’ll never think of acquiescing, nor just silently and idly sit

Look into the depths of my face, as death wears no disguise; I refused to stay buried in the pain that lives in compromise

Question, Questions and More Questions

 I have often heard that you cannot answer a question with a question; is that really true?
Does this question answer your question
Or does it bring about another question
What was your question to begin with
May I ask you a question to better understand your question
Is your question really a valid question
Why do people question other peoples’ questions
Is it simply a question of questioning
May I ask you one more question
Is there an answer for every question
Do you have a question that can answer my question
How do I know that a question is a question
Can sometimes the question really be the answer
Do you have another question for my question
How do I question that which I question
Is it a matter of questioning the question
Can I ask you one more question
How do I know that your answer is correct to the question
Is the secret to the ...

A Poem Named Short

Succinctly I write, I’m also very cogent; instinctively I write, to be brief while potent; I may be quick but never irrelevant

Informed I write to be more precise: compacted I write to be concise

Deliberately I write, to give it more purpose: sometimes I write when agitated, but I’m never nervous

I write to compress my expanded mind; in short I write, to bring hope of sight to the blind

Getting There

Counting the ways that I can reach new elevations, brings me to the delightful taste of consumables, which I’ve never tasted

I’m brought into excitement, which relieves the idleness of my inner being

I cash in on the ideas formed from the images that now bring me to elation

Blast Off

Jubilant to have been delivered from the calamity, which was set in my path, once lifeless now palpitating with prelaunch tremors, anticipating my very moment of liftoff, to ascend to the inevitable course of a skyrocketing zenith

My chronometer moving backwards has reversed the normal trend

I’m both lucid and seriocomic such a dynamic blend

...

Hip Explosion

I once knew this girl who was constructed from dynamite, the dominance in her properties was ampleness which caused a hip explosion

She was the bomb invoking destructive ideas, with which my mind could not contend.

Terrorism could never be, so well connected as was she.

Her detonator was in her hand, but the charge you could plainly see

Trapped

Trapped

Locked in a cage

Filled with pent up rage