Parental Advisory

Hear Ye. Hear Ye. Here we propose to posit prose poetry
forming a form of continuous connectivity,
to communicate considerable contemplative reflectivity.

Simply put, we pose this where
prose poetry is what you’ll hear
when wondering where the time went
while reading such rhyme wonderments
as oft are wrought, and revealed thusly,
each whit of wit written Hieronymously.

High Standards

Read this like a stolen passage. 
Plagiarized within this message 
is the wheel of steel I ride on,
right up front. I am the guidon, 
a lightning rod absorbing shocks 
as time flies by on ticking clocks.

I guide on high. I’m relied on as guidon 
to ride right beside, and provide what men died on 
behalf of. My staff and standard stand tall for me,
offering all who call a glimpse of what you see. 

So, steel this poem forged in thoughts 
of stolen moments, pleasures bought 
with time like I am spending rending 
rhymes sublime while patent pending 
mending plates turn hate to reason. 
Read well reasoned words, or these, on 
what I'm not but was, because of 
what I am. One man. One cause. Love.