A Poem Is A Naked Person.

There's Not Even Room Enough To Be Anywhere/it's Not Dark Yet, But It's Getting There.../i Was Born Here And I'll Die Here Against My Will/i Know It Looks Like I'm Moving, But I'm Standing Still.

The Enemy Is Subtle, How Be It We Are So Deceived, When Truth's In Our Hearts And We Still Don't Believe.

People Seldom Do What They Believe In. They Do What Is Convenient, Then Repent.

... We're Living In A Machiavellian World, Whether We Like It Or We Don't.

Hold It, Doc, A World War Passed Through My Brain. He Said, Nurse, Get Your Pad, This Boy's Insane.