I have written some poetry that I don't understand myself.

Nothing happens... but first a dream.

a women is like a tea bag.it's only when she is in hot water that you realize how strong she is.

A liar is a liar and lives on the lies he tells and dies in a life of lies.

I couldn't see myself filling some definite niche in what is called a career. This was all misty.

Poetry is a fresh morning spider-web telling a story of moonlit hours of weaving and waiting during a night.

God, let me remember all good losers.