There's nothing like sitting next to a campfire
or before an elegant fireplace
to watch the flames freely dance
with a burning desire to warm the space.

With torrid colors; those born from red,
with reddish orange, and purple blue
more warm cometh forth in a perfect instance
to fill the place with an adorable hue.

Though they're weightless-those blazing flames,
and regardless of what might cost their burn,
they'd quench the cold once been in the place
and demolish it all with the utmost pain.

Joey was a private eye.
His gun was black and cold
and everywhere that Joey went
the gun would be there bold.

He killed a man the other day.
He does this quite a lot.
Just self defense, he had to say.
He fills the graveyard plots.

I am number ninety three
named for my gestation vat
where I first came to be
and then was decanted stat!

A tube was then run down my nose
a direct route for all nutrients
to my stomach tasteless fluid flows.
I know no taste, I know no scent.

At two cycles they replaced one eye
with a telephoto infra red lens.
I guess it hurt, I didn't cry.
Emotions deemed the worst of sins.

What's that, once calm, inside her chest,
now overdoes the hums and bumps?
whene'er Julie would look to John
it throbs, it shivers in no rest.

And what's the reddish, blooming thing
that burns that part you call the cheeks?
As if the plains have rushed in red
when God decides to bring the spring.

I see all the things called emotions
Which defy all logic to me
people nearly crying oceans
from "sadness" or being "angry".

Tell me how one such as I
can determine how they "feel"
for no matter how I try
I can't comprehend "woe" or" Weal".

Is anger just like being burned
or is it cold as glacial ice?
Is joy like a new theorem learned
and exactly what is "nice"?

Projectiles rifle through me
as flying bugs of harm,
but then what I do see
must be a culture’s charm.

They kill each other as a sport,
I cannot ken the rules
nor can I see what it purports,
in fact it’s rather cruel.

They have a term that’s quite concise,
it seems to mean a lot,
though little of it seems precise
they’re joyful that they fought.

They call it war.