Poems of life lived in love, hate, death, and despair. Topical coincidences humanity enlivens in the journey we deem living a life worth living. Often times it is said that all life is worth living. And frequently people in variable states will agree that is so. But tell that to the lovestruck and broken-hearted and many times we will hear an absolute "No. I will never love another." Imagine history without the Shakespearean genre of love lost, and brief as they often seem to be, periodic tales of vibrant, joyous love gained into eternity. Such as is made quite obvious in the tales of Robin Hood and Maid Marian, when they drank of the poisoned goblet to die hand in hand. It is within this context of life, namely that humans live in a constant state of limited flux. That every life with reasonable intellectual cognizance is variated at all times within a narrow group of emotional responses within the psyche. Two such responses which are known from the body of archived histrionics that are primary governors of human endeavors, most of us know are love and hate. We also would agree that the subsets are also limited. Such as the emotions of envy, jealousy, and generalizing somewhat, deviants such as unfounded disdain for individuals or entire races based purely on unsustained conjecture. Hence, my poetry is always a direct consequence of the emotions I choose to partake in, living the emotional consequences that we humans must bear within our minds for the unfortunate, rarely fortunate, consequences of our actions. I have learned this, or so it seems to me I have learned it, penning poetry can be a painful endeavor. It should not be taken lightly as a recuperative, emotional tool that can sometimes aid a great deal in healing errant episodes of the past as well as perhaps offering readers a path to vicarious closure. Happy reading! It is the oil that lubricates the mind.
