There's something about the stars at night,
that makes me want to write.
Again my body meets my spirit, when I grasp
the pen in earnest.
In shadows of the trees, the rhymes I kissed.
Words are blood, blank paper the sand,
this pen is my sword, shakes not in my hand.
Gripping my philosophy of good and evil. Aloof.
Love conquers pain, written is the truth.
If Van Gogh painted sunlight, let me write
between the lines.
Pride is attractive but comes with a fine.
I believed in hell before heaven, and very
soon so will you.
There stood the ballot box and over went, you.
In a call for brave men, know the importance
of choice.
The king killed the jester and the peoples
voice.
Smith Shine Poetry 