A farmer sows seeds, tills the soil with blood and sweat, nurtures and reaps the crops to feed millions of mouths and himself is left hungry and helpless with one recourse to end the torture of life…

In the 1800’s a person had to either grow enough food to last themselves through the winter, or they would starve to death. Being self sufficient in those days before modern conveniences was very difficult, sometimes impossible.

A man finds himself forced to steal. Quick Sketch.

When I can’t do anything about the world problems, I take help of my pen.

Is it better to have been loved and lost than to have never been loved at all? Ask a pet who never knew the comfort of a home.

I was just writing whatever was on my mind at the time. This partial poem is about people who have become poor as result of circumstantial situations, and how other people who are among the elite never offer a helping hand to those less fortunate. Keep in mind, this poem is not grammatically correct for a reason so you will see the word “ain’t” or “stressin” This was implemented on purpose.

A very unusual tale about early life in the Alberta badlands. Do you know what happened?

This poem was written at the time of the G8 meeting. It saddens me that children are needlessly dying. That diseases, contaminated water supplies and hunger are killing millions when these causes could all be eliminated and resolved if everyone worked together.

A quaint, rather whimsical little ditty.

I did not think much about the world until I knew a man from Mumbai, India.