It Is Not Possible To Fight Beyond

We All Scribble Poetry.

Accept These Grateful Tears...for Thee They Flow, For Thee... That Ever Felt Another's Woe.

Just Once I'd Like Someone To Call Me 'sir' Without Adding 'you're Making A Scene.'

Rock Stars, Is There Anything They Don't Know?

Two Diverse Gates There Are Of Bodiless Dreams, These Of Sawn Ivory, And Those Of Horn. Such Dreams As Issue Where The Ivory Gleams Fly Without Fate, And Turn Our Hopes To Scorn. But Dreams Which Issue Through The Burnished Horn, What Man Soe'er Beholds Them On His Bed, These Work With Virtue And Of Truth Are Born.