Four-Line Poems
I
when God pencilled in your brows
and smudged shadow upon your radiant face
he was sure to accentuate your ineffably blue eyes
to whom all clichés now humbly bow
II
it occurred to me yesterday
during yet another torturous Japanese grammar class
that truth is the highest beauty
it's a shame no one can understand it
III
willingly confining myself
to a dark room with rock n' roll
I cry for an hour before pondering
the sad fact that I'm a living stereotype
IV
I've been searching everywhere for splendour
hunting for inspiration and brilliance
older students stare
as I rummage through the GArt recycling bin