Nice, France , 2016

  We cry for angels on each avenue. The Devil rides our streets and there are few may run so fast his evil to escape when aimed by an ideal so full of hate. There’s bloody death in Nice we all must share. When will we take up our ideals; defend the innocent so destiny’s…

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A Frosty Love

  It seems I’ve lost my¬†way amidst your chill. Was only yesterday our love abloom but your intemperance a wanton spill of words as cold and listless as the tomb. I’ve wasted quite away from your cold draft. A sullen gray has settled on my head and you, your frozen pauses, seem quite daft. My…

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