Life Lesson

One day came a breeze in a meadow at night,

That brought on a deep cold full of fright;

So dark and So damp,

It lurked and it ran,

Over the grass covered nulls and tree laden  hills.

as it spread throughout the low topped hills,

and swept across the grand green trees,

it reminded those in its path of the coming seasons.

It reminded the squirrel to eat while it can,

It pushed the dear to wrap up its mating at last,

Then left as quick as it came,

Leaving the meadows alive for a short span.

At last the meadow so sullen and silent,

became home for the weather to do what it shall;

With no brown tailed bird and only a stub for  a plant,

It dropped a blanket on the brown hills.

It then came and pounded the land,

With a vast amount of snow so grand,

Large game who now own the forest,

Can have a hearty try at their long awaited harvest,

Preying on mice that hide away,

Eating bone and meat the same.

On the creek valley floor a figure moved,

It seemed so alone but still not removed,

While it roamed through lonely willow filled meadows,

The mice ran away so scared underneath,

Trying to still stay snug in their burrows.

But they would and could never know,

That what roamed above on the carpet of snow;

Was not wanting to have at them for a snack,

It only wanted to have that first-place plaque.

At the end of the valley was a large town square,

A stand and microphone and a statue of a bear,

It lit up the night and welcomed its share,

Of people in large fur coats and brown fleece ware,

Who watched the people dogsledding to the square.

With magnificent ease and plenty of swag,

A team of five and no one in sight;

The first came in with a bark and a wag,

To a cheer from the crowd and a bang from the band.

Over the hill came the second team,

On top of the sled sat a wool covered guy,

He laughed at the sight of his rival’s golden metal,

For he knew deep down that only a miniscule sliver Was covered in gold that mattered.

When third arrived in the darkening town square,

A judge, king, and artist were there,

To cheer for the one who lacked his share,

Of dogs and training to see the crowd there.

The team, well they didn’t care,

For the bronze, they knew it was for them,

And the other shiny metals that glittered so bright,

Weren’t near as special as that team-building night.

A long ways away struggled the fourth placed team,

There were no cheers to be heard or waves to be seen,

The crowd had dispersed near an hour before,

But neither the leader, nor his dogs cared.

For them and the rest who struggled to that square,

None of them knew that the first place team had a loud fair,

They were happy where they ended up and proud to be who they were,

Untainted by societies abrupt call for the winner.

I ask of whoever reads these lines,

That you remember who you are,

You may not be the first-place team,

But be happy with who you are to be,

For your journey is worth a thousand gold’s.

The Bitter Sweet Autumn

This poem is meant to reflect on the sorrow of unexpected things that occur in life, and the process of coming to piece with ones self over the loss.

My Favorite poem I have written:

The bitter sweet autumn,

Bitter sweet autumn;

During the month of great pride;

In A week of enjoyment,

But the summer did end at last.

End of summer, end of summer, times shall change,

The day of change came,

A sad day;

sad day, sad day, depressingly sad day,

a harsh reality,

A reality of sadness and sorrow;

An unknown surprise.

A surprise, a surprise, a nasty surprise;

But on the other side,

Oh on the other side,

There was a spark of sweetness,

So Complex and so fine;

This spark of great wisdom,

It showed itself to all;

Oh spark of great wisdom, spark so majestic;

For all who did see it,

And for all who did not;

This spark of great wisdom,

It made itself shine.

It shined, it Shined, it fluorescently shine,

Over all the rest;

That sad little blip,

Oh how it was gone.

It was gone for good, and so was the summer,

It never came back.

The past, the past, that beautiful past,

It was gone for good;

And never came back.

Not a Template: A Poem on Disability

This poem was written for a poetry slam that i was going to attend. The poem was designed to explain my viewpoint on having a disability. The poetry slam was canceled for unknown reasons, but I decided the poem was worth publishing.

Not a Template

I am a person, not a thing,

Just like you, but I can’t see;

My eyes don’t work, that’s okay,

For it is who I am meant to be.

In the winter I ski, in the summer I bike,

I have homework, family, and live my life;

My friends help me, and I help them,

We write and sing a similar song.

My ears still work, they hear loud and clear,

My feet still tap to the beats of music;

My life is complete without sight,

I do not wish I could see.

When I introduce myself, I let people see,

That blindness is part of me;

I want to be myself authentically so the world may know,

I am not less because of disability.

Some of us sing loud and clear,

Others sing soft and sad;

We all have a message to tell the world.

I will speak my message so all may know,

It is my job to be me, and not a template.

To be one’s self can be hard at times,

The world wants us to be all the same;

Differences are glorified, then thrown away,

People love containers that brand us all the same.

containment is worsened by disability,

Stereotypes help the containers take their shape;

Breaking out of preconceived notions is hard work,

Sadly stereotypes seal the container of disability.

If I were a template of humanity,

I would be a boring one indeed;

For our differences are what makes positive change come to be.

Let me be myself,

And show the world who I am;

No containers shall seal me in,

For I will break out of them until the very end.

not a template of humanity,

Nor a template of disability;

I’m myself, uniquely so,

I’m myself, nothing more.

A Riddle in Poem Form

It is unknown to most,

Though Its correctness can be shown;

It is beautiful to some, and hated by the rest,

What is it?

It wants to be loved; it is a social thing,

If it were completely known some would go insane,

For many have gone insane over it already.

If it had a price tag it would be hard to calculate without using it, and it is priceless in many ways.

It cannot be quantified,

both tiny or massive,

In fact, it can’t be comprehended in full by the best of us.

The universe can’t show it’s true beauty at its fullest height,

If that were so, it’s beauty would be less so.

Time and space don’t exist to it,

Although it rules them so;

Love and beauty are made from it,

and it rules over them as well!

What is it?


Well, I guess someone will love the problem of decoding this answer. Let’s hope that they are familiar with \t\s

The code is between the dashes.




Well, I guess there are only n possibilities at this point,

And What about that email you got last night?

Cute cat, ain’t it?


A poem about humanity, the universe, and hope. I like to think about the wheel of fortune when thinking about this poem.


If night shall fall to human kind and  dusk does befall us;

Our universe shall go on and make a new, But maybe not more lasting.

When morning did come to us; it came so slow and lazily,

For as the sun came up, it arose ever accelerating and kept itself from fading.

If noon has hit, I do not know,

For that is still being determined;

I indeed do know at least one thing,

This thing which shall be everlasting.

For whether noon has passed Or still to come,

A new day is a making.

In some other place where all is cold,

Some sparks are surely brewing;

If one spark shall set fire and create a new sun,

It’s a new day in the making.

A new day, a new sun,

A new sun, a great beginning,

For all to come from this new sun need only know,

They are part of something crazy.

When tranquility meets a brand new sun,

A force is then created,

The power this force brings is hard to stop,

Just like an angry rally.

Like a rally, the new force changes,

Shaping, Shifting, Splitting,

Sometimes taking hold and going  forth,

Yielding new creations.

New creations often yield,

Other better creations;

Once in a while they grow old,

fading back to  matter.

But just like day is sure to come, night is a mortal Dagger,

It brings down the finest days, and refreshes them forever.

Just as empires grow and fade, they never last forever;

Our world it seems has lived so long, the end will come someday surely;

If all is in this endless cycle, there is one constant to be sure of;

If matter cannot be created nor destroyed, hope exists in matter;

Some still say that all is doomed,

Others are more optimistic;

None of that matters a sliver,

When hope changes never.

Hope is ever lasting,

So all is fine, all is grand,

Beauty can come from dark and damned,

For nothing is ever certain.

For even our god; oh does he sing,

To the waxing and waning of the universe;

A star grows up,

Another dies,

But always something happens.

Heaven and Hell


If hell were to exist, what could it be,

If hell were to exist, who would it please?

Hell is a place where all are tortured,

a loving and good god would not invent that!

Sadness and sorrow exist to us humans,

If our god exists and we worship him,

We must give recognition of his pain of our sorrows!

Hell is not real,

These lines explain;

Hell is not consistent with god’s moral values.

Message to the sophists (those  who use hell to make their point)

Sophists pass hell from generations before,

They believe in hell falsely.

sophists and their follower’s,

believe in hell blindly,

beliefs which come from a simple misunderstanding.

If you are a sophist, do not take offense,

This is not a ridicule,

It’s a proof of no hell.

Hear my words, believe in heaven.

Hell in its current form

Hell exists and all get punished,

Hell tortures all, at and a god lets it be;

That god punishes all, even the good,

He punishes on belief, not on lively goodness.

Why that god should be worshiped is a mystery.

The problem with Hell.

Hell is a terrorists friend,

Hell is the elite’s mental torturing post,

Do not believe in hell,

Humanity needs forgiveness, and so does our god.

The words I say are not absolute truth,

I speak my mind, without deep knowledge of religion.

An evil king choose who went to heaven and hell,

A king invented hell to scare the masses;

He Modified the scriptures to scare non-believers,

He abused his power, just like they do today.

Middle ages went by, as people purchased a place in heaven,

They paid to gain access,  they truly didn’t believe.

The master to his slave says on hot summer’s day,

“You’ll go to hell you retched slave,

Do your work, god gave me authority;

I believe in him,

I’ll go to heaven surely;

If you do your job for me until you die,

You’ll go to heaven forever where all is good.

If you fail to slave for me ,

you’ll regret. For eternity;

You’ll have worse than now,

Slave, you’ll be sad forever.

I am gods will, I am powerful.

You’ll burn forever,

Retched slave,

While I live in comfort;

It’ll be  like right now.”

Hell is anti-religious,

Here is why;

Religion is power when forced upon those against will;

Hell is a way to oppress the uneducated,

Hell makes everyone cringe.

Hell, and hell’s power,

Often scare children;

Hell works to convince people of falsities.

Why it exists in the modern age,

Why hell can flourish among educated free humans?

God created the universe and set it free,

we wish to believe he is good and loving;

We should not tell our children they will burn if they don’t believe.

Believe in heaven

The purpose of religion was to unite us all,

Religion cares for the poor and gives us hope;

Those of us who believe in heaven,

We must stand big and tall;

Help the poor and unite us all,

God wants us to do this for them all.

A loving god shall except us all,

We shall be rewarded for good and moral deeds;

To help the poor is to help god,

For he is part of us all.

To believe in hell is to pain the great god,

It is our moral authority to enlighten them all,

That Heaven shall except us all;

If Heaven will except us all,

Why don’t we?