This section will deal with poetry I've written.
If I were but a speck of dust
Cast in the endless realms of the universe
I doubt that I could be more lonely
I look out on the beauty of the day-time sky
See the endless oceans of the blue;
Marvel at the gently drifting clouds;
And curse my mortal life.
No man may be an island
That there are an ever-increasing number of pennisulas
Were we what we are not,
And were but what we cannot be,
Then Man could call himself
Conqueror of infinity
You know, I've delved into Kinsey,
glanced at Masters and Johnson,
examined the ancients
gathered all the data, facts and statistics possible
simulated them in a computer
and still I've failed
to find the meaning
a voice in the night
doomed to wail in sorrow
only rocks and walls
to hear my pain.
must it be so?