Round the city blocks;
with its fake people,
       And the bad crowds.

***** dealers;
and their corrupt cops

House party speakers-
cracking noises
                   So **** loud.

Amongst all the chaos-
still wishing my love was
                        Still around.

Got ****, got ****, can't  be taking pictures with legends.
**** right, that girl's legs
were out in public with all those curls and those  edges.

Who the hell being trying to cut me down for last coming week,
****, who's probably on my next hit list, trying to waste my energy. **** right I was feeling so weak.
But who's next, I never really got too tired of this,
****, I never shot so high in the air just to go miss.

And ain't life fair when I'm claiming myself to be a nobody else.
****, I only touched that forbidden Candy once, now my *** is getting beat by two thousand belts.

How everybody told me greatest was a long trip, can't I just change the route.
Don't really be the formal type, but I had to play the role and force myself to suit.

****, ****, ****, **** right.

You're a ship and I'm a wreck-
Our love met a titanic end
Still, we'd sail around the terms
Of being close mates

Too see you again;
You can still claim a spot
By the window seat of my heart,
Gazing straight into my soul.

flowing as smooth skin, pimple pebbles in between;
the break out of my skin – still I flow freely as I am,
while my tears weigh heavy on the bank’s sand…

still, I’m glad to know how much you enjoy me tickling
in between your toes – wash off the struggles of your heart,
but please don’t use it as an excuse to leave your *******
inside of me

          you found me as a clear river,
   and I've always known where I'm going
                                    let me live a clear life.

War fronts;
All of our true selves'
Could gather around-
In arms locked together:

Darling'
You're unguarded of heart.

With an open smile;
Your make-up won't align'
Under it all, you seem so shy:
At the core of it all-
A gnaw at the apple of my eye.

Your tears of agony and joy;
Are the good and the bad'
In this crazy city life:
Found a lip fit, saluting boys.

Does your kiss still bleed;
As you're taking a bite:
Tongue still run errand'
As my breath comes inside?

Skirmished for this love;
And took a shot at it'
Dropping bombs of cursing;
In valley' that became atomic'
Putrid words you and I spoke-
A pool of Blackened *****.

Two sides in constant battle;
Slipping nicely to our fit:
Walking jointly in an open-
(Desert war sandal)

   (War; War; War;)
I continue on clashing at love'
   (War; War; War;)
You've torn through my heart'
   (War; War; War;)
Leaving me in love and apart.

Baptized in water, to wash afresh life
They flipped a quarter to pay a wreck their stripes
Too many strikes in the lines; I've done ill twice
To prove a lesson I never seem to learn
And by the next turn on an unfamiliar road
As where the water drips off the bottom sink—filled in dirt
I'll over think a wish that employers pay my worth

Baptized in fire, of all those miscreants I'd like to burn
Setting flame to burning evil intent of worldly incense
As the idea of a heaven paradise, is the only call to repent
To accept the mess you made—no sense or point to be afraid
Tip the finger despite the good intent, but a ******* in prayer
Nowadays sinners aren't ashamed, to gain success out of his name
Heathen, Atheist, Christian, Jew, Muslim, Buddhist; all the same
Living the most lively of lives, but we'll all die in the end

Baptized in Earth, saying goodbye to befores, family and friends
It's the spoil of soil that buries my dreams with a fresh rose
She smells of intentions, but I cannot smell good with a ****** nose
Ironically all things are red, that of which we've read
To share with the young, or not really care—we all die in the end
Caught in this life's trap of the pleasure's unfair; a bear in a snare
To rob you bare, with tears and a ripped bandage that you tear
The ones you love aren't always there—in moment's phone call away
Ring, ring, beep, beep, sing, sing, sip, sip; sorry I'm drinking today
You're just throwing those hopes in the air, feeling down by gravity

Baptized in winds, swinging carelessly in hopeful imaginings
That you're the one to be the golden egg of your family
An idea I had once till it cracked, so I sit back relax and laugh
Mask my pains with a grin and jokingly demeanor to always pass
Speaking smooth joy out of a tongue of jazz, and jazz hands
Fingers splayed to play in quotation marks of having a good day
And the line phrase of always saying, "yeah I'm definitely okay"

All in these elements—restless, pretend excellence, dreadfulness
In the endlessness of subtle pettiness, of my helplessness
As of my gentleness elegance, in being my life as the evidence
I've been baptized fully by the full of all these elements

Beautiful ugly reflection –
slipping into the depths of your heartbreak;
Do you still tally your breaths – gasping for air!
At times, we drift so far from the warmth of home,
a cosmic wonder; yet the cosmos cradles the remnants
of extinguished stars.

Would you light a cigarette – to mask the fierce truths
of your spirit; those weary hands still possess a gentle
caress.

A handshake fraught with shaky bonds – bond to your
insecurities; anchoring you in a realm of perpetual self-doubt.

                   You are worth infinitely more, my mirrored self.

Cupid’s aim was off, he lost one of his arrows
in the wrong heart he shot; I'd had my fair share –
of these scars painted on my skin; all the best
intentions being lost, while adding value to someone
just to add up the cost of their love…

Cupid’s aim was off, he forgot to wear his glasses
while on the job; giving me extra weight thinking
about my past – all the pain left behind, we all need to
move forward, but I still want to kick Cupid right in
the ****!

Beneath the surface of everything that exists;-
I find myself one breath away from losing my sanity,
and not making another one, until I die. Continuously unsure if
I'll ever create something new before, my time is up;- living by
the inevitable ticking of time's clock.

I've been living on the outskirts, trapped within
the confines of my own mind, constructing dreams of the past
for those who still hold onto hope, hoping that what I do will
be cherished as something unique and irreplaceable, like a rare gem
amidst a sea of ordinary stones. But now, I find myself drowning in
a sea of thoughts, longing for a shore where I can find solace instead
of conforming to the world's constant demands with a forced "sure."

Sometimes, I feel like I exist beyond the boundaries
of this physical realm. I am dedicated to carrying the weight of
everything, as if it all rests solely on my shoulders. I commit myself
to helping others and loving those who have wronged me, without
any limitations.

Yet, I feel trapped by it all, still entangled within
the web of expectations. In the midst of it all, I must remember
that I have to go through this journey to understand why I am here.
I have tasted love, its sweetness fleeting and its bitterness lingering.
I feel somewhat used by this kind of love, but mostly, I am left feeling
confused;-  drained and perplexed, pondering the worth of
entwining myself in a web of a jealousy, masquerading as  
now being a mere companion. I have been betrayed by those
I loved the most, let down by my own family, as if they were
the last people, I expected to break my heart. Feeling the sharp
betrayal of a backstab is a crippling pain, but the anguish intensifies
when you see the perpetrator, carving that very scar.

I am amazed by the immense depth and breadth
of how a few months of disappointments can feel like a
year's worth of pain. I cannot possibly quantify the extent of
this excruciating experience, but I can count every tear shed along
the way. The first half of this year has presented an array of
challenges worthy of a lifetime.

Nevertheless, I remind myself that it is a journey,
that must be taken one day at a time, handling whatever
comes my way. It is difficult to always be happy, but I strive to
find moments that bring a smile to my face, conserving my energy
to heal from the tougher days instead of pretending that
everything is fine.

Tears cast shadows; I can still hear your quiet sobs echoing
in the night; the love etched into your skin is crumbling under
the weight of this love game, much like a fragile house of cards.
Could I offer you a more favourable deal at discovering love?
Do you still recognize the beauty that resides within you, or have
the echoes of those who captured your heart dulled your shine,
leaving only the sting of their betrayal?

I’m on a quest to find the melody that resonates with your heart;
though it feels as elusive as seeking out David’s hidden chord.
It’s as if your inner strength has been severed, much like Samson’s
locks. But if I were to gently knock on the door of your heart, would
you welcome me in, or would you push away my advances, toppling
the pillars that support my pride? I can’t help but wonder if I’ll
ever see you again.

Crack upon my heart,
the feelings inside that box,
Like wearing out the old memories of my baby socks.

Oops I may have forgotten a few,
so surely what would I do,
Still I find a piece of them while I stare in the eyes of you.
Lest they tell me what only is true,
of these growing feelings I have for you.

And my baby socks still have that stain,
of the dirt I stole from the Earth while I played a game,
As I was so young from the days of feeling no shame,
I lived a life with a different name.

But all things had to change once that feeling came,
can't act like a baby anymore when you have a baby that is your dame.
And once they've become your feelings constant, your baby socks have run out of their fame.

So crack upon that box,
if you wishing to see what's in my heart,
And you may find that hiding memory worn out in my baby socks.

nature o so quiet and subtle,

these mountains are the only-
to hear a sound of falling trees,
all the winds are the last-
to touch skins of leaves.

nature o so quiet and subtle,

these woods of life, all it's
creatures are your children,
seed pods of their fill,
will hit the grounds and spill.

nature o so quiet and subtle,

these many butterfly kisses,
ladybug tickles, foxes all cunning,
prey all running, birds chirping,
as antlers ears alerting.

nature o so quiet and subtle,

you wear a dress to-
cover all your young,
as the mother of all.

Suffocating beneath a tidal wave of feelings —
struggling to stay afloat, gasping for breath.

My lungs are heavy filled with so much water;
I may swallow my pride — but I can't hold
these tears anymore in my chest.

Tell me, what it's like finding love – one as easy as finding your
place in the world. “No wait… that’s a terrible analogy.”

Okay tell me, is there such an easy love to find, like attending
an event that came with an open invite? I quietly watch everyone
dancing in the crowd of love. Right now, I don’t know much
about the steps; could we may-be slow dance? “Uhm… I mean
take it slow!”

Sorry, that came out so wrong – and we know for my week heart;
that’s a bit too strong. “Oh snap, I spelt weak wrong.” Maybe its
because the last time I saw you in person, it was a week ago.
“****, it feels that long!”

Anyways, the words in my mouth, clears my throat; though the
sickness still sticks… love? Could we be like two love birds;
just because of this flu. “Okay, that’s a corny bar!”  
“Are your hands sweaty – no?”

It’s a family thing; having sweaty palms. But I promise you,
I’m not secretly falling in love. “We’re friends right?”
  
                                  the many thoughts that plague his nights.

In the grand spell of words, let me etch this sentiment into your heart –
I find myself so tired, like a Toyota limping along with a missing hubcap.
My carpet smile, never held the weight it should have; you revelled in
The tickle of my beard as our lips met. Yet, as soon as we grew distant,
I shaved it away, a symbol of our fading connection, a relic of this
Relationship becoming one of long distance.

Typing my feelings onto the screen, though the true message of them
Weren’t delivered so well, failing to convey the depth of my despair.
I began to loathe myself, believing that the love I once held for you
Was a tether, leading you on to lead you astray. “I’m sorry,” I whisper,
But deep down, I always knew you were destined for someone far
Greater than I could ever be, or at the very least, someone who would
See you as the answer to their most fervent prayers.

I guess you weren't the answer to my prayers...

Feeling a taste of bliss, a heart fluttered
With anticipation in that fleeting moment
Just before our lips met in a tender kiss.

In muted shades of grey, a smile that had
Once lit up your face seemed to fade away,
Almost as though the vibrant taste of you
Wouldn’t taste the same- we’re never the same

As we met, searching for the worth of love –
This love of ours, a love that came with change.

We were laughing miles away from the corner
Of real love, but it was long distance relationship
For you and I; I can only love you from a corner.

There are two kinds of creatures in this life;

the most attractive creature, is a man mindful of your feelings:
considerate of your emotions, making you feel truly valued,
and respected— who listens attentively to your thoughts,
and concerns but also responds with genuine care, and
understanding.

And the dumbest creature, is a man who instead thinks
with his second brain: not much thought needed there.

Love's ugliness to the roses of sweet,
Claiming you as an only need,
A beast to sweet nothings; it has to feast,
I sprained my ankles; at the too many times love
swept me off my feet.

Violets painted in a colour of violence,
Stealing a heart; by a bandit's right handed
silence,

Patience my love; all of your ends are priceless,
Driving myself into you without the licence,
But there's so many types of love like this.

Love's closed fist; is a punch to a pretty face,
An open hand to follow, but with a chase,
An unruly intention, disguised in grace,
Criticism of another, at times under praise,
A good feeling at times, but at times the good
wants to misbehave.

Still...

It's of beauty; behind a world's cruelty,
Wishing you all the best. Well usually,
Continually chasing a love to fool me,
A nut of sorts; love would ***** me.

Longing for love; when you've felt unloved,
Longing for feelings; never been touched,
Longing for hands; the last been clutched,
Longing for speed; hoping to get that rush,
Darling I must love you too much.

Kiss me under my eye, for a reason for me to want to see you again.

igniting a fire within my soul, making me crave more
of your presence in my life.

Place a mat of your love on my back, to remind
me I need to tidy up my past.
With your unwavering support, I'll know I always have
you, even with the dirt I might bring home
Put a flower in my mouth every time we kiss,
so I can have a last taste of beauty before you go.
Later on we'll have late conversation when my confidence
blooms, at a call to rise;— the flower better be a rose.

Snip a piece of your hair to tie with my belt
buckle, just so I can wear a memory of you,
buckling at the future and all of our perfect heirs.

Cut a collar of my shirt, to have me by the neck.

intimate and possessive,
to symbolize your claim over me.

And if that material wears out, you can wear
my incense instead. Like your sweet perfume that gets
stuck on my neck; digging into my flesh with desire
—I'll be cut throat when it comes to show how you make me feel.

With all feelings involved, I can definitely say
what I'm feeling of those scary words,
"I think I'm falling in love"

Forest dreams, dreaming life green,
It's my own sight of life if you know what I mean.

Seeing life in the good parts of a movie scene.
Blanketing my heart like a forest of the earth. Or was that just a dream.

In a Forest parking my heart under the shade,
What's the occasion for, you ask.
Hiding in the forest when I'm afraid.
History repeating itself, but I chose not to live in the past.

It's a Forest I know, a place I choose to hide.
For really it's where I go to leave all bad things behind.

Just

Don't be the fool
To think of me a tool
Building from my Forest's trees to make me a stool
That idea you think isn't too cool.

Just

Come with me to my forest of dreams.
Dreamy Forest, dipping my cold feet in the Forest's warm streams

King of the century, well just for this moment of time,
Let me decree this, let me decree that, I want everything in this world to be mine.
Royalty in my blood, just can't find your origin or place,
Searching for my Queen, where are you my darling, where's your beautiful face.
Where's my castle with all my golden bricks,
Probably all behind my mind with capital tricks.

Where's my golden cup with wine from an older age,
Tasting much like time itself with no definite range.
Where are all my people to hear my voice,
Don't listen to a earthly King's ******* even if he hasn't given you the choice.
Where are all my Knights and Royal guards defending my keep,
Where's my land with my cattle and sheep, and my river with waters so deep?

King of an empty world with mass to fill my mind,
King of a land that never existed and so hard to find.
But I'm the King of the  moment when time can be my own,
Holding time itself all till it disappears at Dawn....
King, King, King, let me enjoy it now when it's all still here,
Because I will awaken once more to another day, so my dream I had with the worth of myrrh .
Could make me King, King, King of my own land,
With all I would have and have not and finally the things I never planned....

Yours: were those repetitions of actions; underneath the comment of
her starry eyes, waiting to add an explanation of my place as her caption.
We both explore the aftereffects of years of catching onto one another—as the successful hunt shows pleasant results; while the longer course of it comes with many love scars… but along the way, I heard the spinning tales of your story by the roundabouts. All the places you had been, shouldn’t have been, and a lot of questions about your whereabouts. Whereas the hoodlums turf their side from the thugs, and I make a territory between us, to avoid long hugs- a criminal kind of love

We both know the boys who keep a contact list of girls to pick out from, as like commodities well kept: she knows a message well sent, as the night gives the best of time for us to act like our true selves

Let’s not jump into so many conclusions as if leaping into big decisions; as our memories are well kept in sky, but at times we seem confined by these crying ceilings. For a worthwhile love, we live to find a means of making a quick buck, copying that success and sitting back while the currency prints- there’s nothing wrong with such money-making schemes; unless it gives others the idea of buying into dreams. And unfortunately, we both quietly know what that means



Sort of met by carnivorous eyes- feeding desires
into one another; a few lives cut short to the unsettling sound
by an incomplete strung of a chord. Rebellious young ones
sneaking out to the clubs, later on tamed at home; there’s
such a thirst for our wrongs when we’re perfectly alone—
but as you miss someone as much as a faithful faster
misses lunch, even a clone of them wouldn’t do you much…

Breakups do cause ill actions; “you said you’re not sick
of me,” but I subtly taste a bit of ***** in these latter kisses
—let’s talk to unlock our deepest feelings; dialogue is
key. The end of her blush is the brightest of spots, but is
a sign to end a conversation with an abrupt full stop
“Fool, stop,” her forced smile must annoyingly be saying

Those face masquerades must be working hard today;
without sounds of cries- pretending we enjoy telling
each other, “yeah, we’re fine,” or was it the rephrasing of it,
to admit to ourselves that this love has always felt like a fine

A date out with the stars
my romance is a bit outdated
leisurely play, too relaxed to find love
Soundly calm moon whispers
tickle the ears of someone feeling blue
a sea of ten thousand tears over you

I've cried, and cried, weeping the whipping
of lashing out feelings. Not many take me serious,
not being a lover's hero

                ....for you, I am your pain's anti-villain

To fall in love, I sense no perfect hour,  
Yet breaking hearts can feel like a shower.  
When love stops it’s rain- to fade,  
It's a painful cascade,  
Leaving sorrow where once bloomed a flower.

I “borrowed,”
a customer’s purple shirt
“okay, I stole that shirt”

It looked too good,
with an ironic phrase in white words

“dreams do come true”

Do I feel guilty
about “borrowing,” that purple shirt

“I don’t really know”

But I’ll let you know
later on tomorrow, as I’ve hung it out
with an outfit, ready to go to church.

Heart beats like a drum,
  (no I'm not in love)
Just echoing the rhythm of my soul
   A tune so loud.

In a valley of stories;
both past & present
days of old; days anew:
In a place I call God-
by different names.

Mwari, Nkulunkulu,
Jehovah, and Lord.

And like God,
I witnessed beauty & glory
And like God,
my mouth spoke of creations
And like God, I said:
                   "this is good"

i feel ashamed, i feel ashamed, i ashamed
i'm on a prayer to prevail
taking shots of successes inside of a small gun range

russian roulette; cussing out in an attest
testifying those sins—i need to repent,
i need to repent, i need to repent
i've got a bad rep representing my ill intent

so sick of life, seeking meaning on people
pleasing. so was it a miss for me—misleading peers
to co-sign my fears
it's a signature significant, in a miniature magnificent
but strangely the one to always feel so insignificant

among the rules of what it means to be men
as non momentary cowardice, to the pre end
lying constant, lying on a deathbed to admit to
my pretend

the imaginary calamity of believing you're a
hope for humanity. your goal is only to provide
for your family; sadly on the madly in love undertone
keeping well the colours of a lover's rose
treat them well as yours. let sinking kisses rest under
pores

pouring out your heart; poor are those buying
out to pay for love

you should feel ashamed, you should feel ashamed,
you should feel ashamed—as I once was ashamed

(A) bit of words I live by.

(B) aware of what you (C)
Nowadays you're so close to meeting a trage(D)

Don't waste too much of your good energy. And don't let that gauge get to (E)
Give more (F)fort to those you love. But don't
go around donating what's in your (G)eans.

Wisdom isn't determined by your (H)
(I) learnt that recently.

Many will self title you from the front like a (J)-card. But it's o(K).
We look at them like, "oh wel(L)"

(M)any  are slave to their mistakes,
meaning we're our own worst (N)emy.

(O)ways know where you came from,
before you head out into the world. Everyone has their o(P)inions. Not every one will be for you, still at least say thank (Q)

(R) we not people of great value? Ye(S)
We seem to have come from nothing, but given time we're all some(T)in.

(U) know who you are. (V)ision yourself a better person by each day. Don't live with  (W) standards.

(X)periences, make us who we are.  (Y) worry about the past, when you have the present.

Life will always be hard, but the rewards are more fulfilling, compared to life being e (Z)

Coded messages, inscribed by the scars on my skin
Aspects of a secluded heart; as the line of tears, maps
Out the journey to a long sense of finding due healing

As the border between maturity and old youth, in a new attire;
Once the public uniform of coming in your, “Sunday best,”
Disguising all the vile of yourself- as we fashion ourselves to
Look like the most likable person; the scrap pieces of dripping water
From prior baptisms- as some of the sovereign believers are uncouth
To their God, wearing the many false skins, hunted in wickedness-
Their very own diplomacy of delighted barbarism  

Separate all of your self-gratifying creeds, and agreed to
Worship in love, pray together; coming as you are- as we are
All knitted together by familiar troubles, hurts, griefs, uproars-
To raise our voices, bringing life to this new body.

Death is not a silent affair; the sobs of the living resonate above my
coffin. I ponder the manner of my demise, never the timing, for each
of our ends have their set dates. Is that the reason why we bring
flowers to the grave, to compliment the date?

When we close our eyes at night, I know a piece of us dies, as a
fragment of our essence fades, dreaming to survive into tomorrow.
Perhaps those who choose suicide are merely those who forget to
wake up again—lost and still trapped in the darkness, searching for
the light, yet some remain forever in the dark.

Death is not a silent affair; anyone's sudden death brings the sound
of tears.

All the fixation of a fictional mind
Seen as the scene playing on my pride

Makes of a fool, full on their stomach butterflies
Caught by love, in nets of its scent passing by

Buy into dreams; if to only afford imagination
Thinking of those you love and to lose concentration

Concerns of connecting factors, factoring in time
A factory of my heart, trying to work out how you'll be mine

Mind were you dig in my many deep thoughts
Thwarting me—I am a haunting manifesto of public courts

Courtship of an engaging conversation I'd always keep
Lost are words to a chest's heart; of love being the key

Keen on the grin, grinding a motive to work up a nerve
Nervous, shy man—can't speak up on public's street curve

And so bent out of shape, to express this final say
That despite of upbringing, we're up to falling in love some day

Pictures with strangers, perhaps with the fame

I haven’t been the same; unrecognizable even with
all these fans screaming my name

There’s always a price to entertain

I entered into a much louder desperation out of my
old depression's gate. But still lying about feeling great

Still I’m among all of the greats; those who've tasted fame

Anyways, one lick of it made me sick— thick legs always
any easy pick, but I never thought I’d call someone a *****

It’s quite rich, like I am; still with his poor tastes

All these make-ups on a face; making up for your pain
make up ***, made up ideas from sexting texts

It felt a given, it would all take away my innocence

Feeling caught always in the thrill of them cheering my
brilliance; masking how it kills my feelings

To now feeling more worried about my appealing

“How’s my appearance,” factoring those experiences
would they still take me less than serious

Sort of shook hands with the president

Still preferred the picture; not being in a picture with him,
looking like I live on his immoral morals like a resident

Paranoid paradise: so relaxed on being anxious

The camera flashes always judge my actions,
calling me old fashioned. Not fashioned in those factions

Overthinking what to put under my caption

Capture a moment, but the camera lens is the only forever
lasting smile; soon I’ll be turning into Mr Passive

Still I had a passion, beforehand

Fame served me a lot to handle in a forehand, nobody
understands the grip of fame in Hollywood’s tight hand

Serving you free chicken

*******, and thighs— Bets and thongs, a high supply
of different women. Swallowing their pride and your children

A million dollar tub, but still feeling filthy

“Oh really, you think you can have your soul back,”
the devil now outside, once only one within me

I made a deal to die at fifty

Knowing the fame won’t last me that long, feeding myself
to an empty richness. So **** greedy!

But hey, I guess I made it

What would have been the chances; still if only I had
waited a little longer for God’s right answers.

But hey mama, I’m famous...

Words… are lost by touch; perhaps I am talking too much… that
much is clear – a tongue testing its own fortune. The moment I beheld
your visage, a weight settled upon my skin, while the fragrance of
your skin dug tremors through my heart – a quiver igniting up to the
nerves at my fingertips. Our hands met with a less than firm embrace – yet deep down, I yearned for a hug, to ascend the staircase of your
neck and find sanctuary in the chamber of your lips.

Like a swarm of bees drawn to a blossom, seeking the sweet nectar of
connection – our fleeting moments together ignited thoughts of
seizing the flower of time, “she’ll love me, she loves me now,” believing it’s merely a matter of time.

I hear you summon my name; it resonates like a hymn of adoration –
your celestial presence beckoning me into the realm of your words.
And so, we embark once more, at the crossroads of language where I
find myself either bereft of expression or talking too much … you
know what, let’s abandon the chatter and kiss instead, for our hearts
speak a language far more profound. I’ve been overthinking too much.

the silence of your shadow is louder when you don’t watch it –
as the memory of someone in your mind, is just a fictional
character of them. this life: walking on the thin lines of what the
eyes have seen; the unseen waits for us at the great beyond.

the narrative of love still waits on loads of blank spaces –
empty smiles towards pretty faces. but until we find the one
that helps us smile in true depth, the ones we meet are truly
just strangers in the end.

and the days love to dash in sands of time – for no one really
has all the time in the world to live out a thousand lifetimes.
still, we’ve lived a thousand experiences of a thousand lives
in this one life. living as bodies, connected by familiar tears,
stranded or motivated by fears, the highs given by the touch
of two skins, we live as bodies, die from our bodies and will
live on as spirits in the end.

                                   and to that end, the end of this poem.

When we cease to understand the world,
fighting against it on our own.
Caught in between two sides of life,
but really just being torn.

The many tears that pour,
the flooded tears of lost ideas.
Lacking funds to fundraise my plans,
living in constant battle with poverty.
The war of the poor.

The employees,
of a Man who won't pay full labours.
But for the sake of the little
we make for our family.
How could we not do the work, as we utter,
"Yes sir".

In memory of memory,
I soon realize I've worked plenty for empty.
Do my best to set a foundation
for my future family.
I'd much prefer change,
even it was a thought for a penny.
To feel less of the world against me.

Programmed ideas, words begin to echo AI — quiet intelligent;
in a realm where outsmarting will take you out; once you
outshine those above you; you define the term of being so Anti.

Anti the world, where courage is deemed too bold — keep those
ideas to yourself, shave off the top – be bald. Even as you try to
say things so daring, that if feels like a bold choice; speaking your
mind won't be so clear without an influential voice.

Your existence seems tangled and wild; so out of order —I question
if a miracle isn’t served, would I question an angel for missing
the order. And if to not adhere to good people's orders, this very
breathing would feel like a crime — every moment caught up in
life would just be a show of Law and order.

But I doubt you’d excuse my aura for being so out of order –
we often craft justifications to the world’s chaos, as a service
to uphold a semblance of some order.

the start of the conversation, and you're yelling,
"where has your *** been,"

  he gives you headaches, you're
                addicted to aspirins.

but really what you're asking him,
is whether he was out with the boys relaxing —

he always says, "no, I was just running late"

you tell him straight,
"listen here boy, please stop feeding
me more lies,
              I'm fasting"

Death in a room
his eyes are blackened tomb
everything ends dark, as it began in the womb
Born out of a wound
sewn by the desires of still having youth
But how long do we have, the many breaths
till death's stench—our time is so few

Dire hours; heaven's closest bird to their gates
rising to her, the same straits angels fell
The sight of which, burns all of my face
Earth was just a light version of hell, sometimes
as with tiny little devils in your head, exploiting
your days

Dearly disturbed—don't wake him up too soon
he's just resting his eyes, from seeing another
distaste for life. Wipe away his tears with a pillow
that soaks all his cries. Let him slip away into a
day's night

Doses of depression, he's on the drug of sadness
wrapped in linen—leaning on the leisure of
a moment's death. Given time to be called by
value. Soon after he rises.

             The sad Lazarus.

Lay me to rest with my pen in hand, for the heavens shall serve
as my canvas, where with each stroke of ink, I will inscribe my
aspirations upon their billowing clouds - visible to all who gaze
skyward.

And as the rain descends, may it cleanse not only the tangible
world but also the abstract doubts that linger in the minds of my observers.

Through the permanence of my written legacy in the sky, let the
wisdom I have gathered extend beyond time and space. May it act
as a guiding beacon for the inexperienced, illuminating the path
forward amidst their uncertainty and ambiguity

                 ...my hand shall hold this immortal pen.

Acrimonious ******; oh, to such a wanted piece of thought, falling carelessly as a leaf blown in a sceptical kind of winds, and with their goal of rattling me. The present fortunes present themselves as a mystery unsolved, the many spasms in a day, constricted by the extravagance of wanting to be heard; but the audience is so uninvolved

As I sometimes misplace my identity in my own words- as when I misplace worries into the formula of my concerns. The lessor faith in words, frames on the highest platform; in the endless echoes of a writer’s afterlife- where their once idolized muses, are blessed enough to be seen as something appreciated as gods- a Poetic pantheon

Creativity is like two gloved hands, that choke out the reader’s eyes,
suffocating them to see new found knowledge, in the loss of consciousness. As the stage is set; upon the tears of the world, being the opening curtains to such an encore performance; an audience made up of eyes hungry for more. The author’s responsibility to provide to them all,
a due course of sustainable food for thought. As the world feeds the writer the vilest of things, to in turn create something ameliorates in place of it.

The pen –
is an extension of my body, held by my hand, as it
beats with my heartbeat; it's my very breath between
words, the intentions of my structuring, the brush to
my thoughts, the paint of my imagination.

The pen –
is the mic to my voice, the scope of my eyes, the chorus
to my soul, the bass to my heart, the shadow of my skin,
painted by the night, and why my pen chooses to be black!

It is bold, it is wild, it is persuasive, it manipulates words
to invoke change, it is controversial, it is understood by
few, yet it speaks to all.

The pen is an extension of my body –  for we are One!

Sleep is an endless journey,
only the dead can complete
Time is the fortune you can never
afford to have enough of
Love is the tie dye of the different
worn out emotions, of the shirt you say
Faith is the picture frame of the
final art piece, you hope will be portrayed
And sin is the spilled ink on a paper;
the more you try to wipe off yourself, the more
stains you're still left to see.

We live for any few more seconds of sleep,
constantly on this life's limited time to do it all
Trying to have a consistent abstract pattern  of our love
always picturing what our faith can paint in the end
Yet we are all stained by our born sin,
                    -we are truly humans till the end.

The sound of love
how to explain: children in a playground
rhythmic play, heart skips a beat
screaming yay; nay to hopelessness of
breaking a heart again

Chase
chasing hands, gripping tag to touch
I've labelled myself a fool, only could
love sound so cliche as a fool in love

All are born to shine; I tread the earth with grace
Feeling the weight of sorrows, as life does trace  
In her embrace, I find both pieces of pain & care
Her silent whispers, weave a cloak, one so rare

As the walls, like rivers, tell of the shifts inside
An echoing pulse where my true self does bide
An unseen force tugs at my heart's deeper seam
In the soft, dark tear, I find all fears in a dream

A tempest stirs within my soul, a voice confined
Yearning to escape, to maybe soar, to be defined
Through trials faced, I’ve brushed away the grime
Preserving my spirit, as if its untouched by time.

To a starving child
would you offer food for thought
To a mute
would you offer a caring word
To a quadriplegic
would you offer a step ahead
To an insomniac
would you offer them a bed
To a shadow
would you offer it shade in the summer
To a drum
would you offer a beat for unnecessary drama

But no on a serious note; we're offering things
often to force ourselves in offing our heads/
—overthinking a gesture, is as good as to pretend

Playing your mind in chess,
a game of war that none can escape the draft
We're checkers until we're being examined for our past
Imploding cringey memories; a grenade for a present/
all the gifts beforehand a thought's delivery; all pre sent

Pretty less, on feeling less after the care I get
sort of a mind set to care less, seeming careless
on revaluating any of my regrets:
Hurricanes for past events, destroyed by past missteps
...tell me what's next, and what to expect?

Offer me a starving child,
and I'll feed them well in help,
and knowledge to never starve again
Offer me a mute,
and I'll voice their pain in an echo,
that simple words can't explain
Offer me a quadriplegic,
and I'll take the steps to help them
stand proudly on their outstanding worth
Offer me an insomniac
and I won't rest until they find a lost comfort
of all their dreams, spoken on with ill words
Offer me a shadow
and I'll shed light on the dark corners
of not only myself, but those lost in darkness
Offer me a drum
and I won't beat around the bush, on
making a load roar of one's injustice

                 ...these, these are all my world offerings

Love has been,

a peanut butter & jelly
love sandwich;

I went on to spread,

my heart & emotions
one side,
my mind & thoughts
on the other side;

And of course,

I was the one caught
in between it all.

| The weird, wonderful and I
   lost in a wash of dreams—or was it
    just my tears? I fell in love in your glaring eyes
  Omission, and my hiatus from personal friends
    bad omens about bad luck
  You were just a chum I'd hate to meet,
   with all of my charm and ice cream bucks
    a lick of paint white to coat our insecurities

I'll admit all the ones I love all just bully me-never picked
on by jealousy, but just the people who love to test me
I never had the time to state the plans; but I would
mark my territory in all your memories land
Honest; I'd light the passion we both shared again
if I worked more on my pyrokinesis powers
My heart stays warm over you, I just pray you don't end
up bullying me too

| I swear it doesn't feel like my first time
   practicing with myself probably last night
  But I'm going to be shy; wrapping it tight to the fit
   still without a ****** for my heart—I'm going
     to be love sick. Our sheets are going to be ******
  And I still hope by that time we both are too

We could have a good time, and not feel so pressured cos
we're both so shy. I can't always be this romantic guy
Let's both stay connected; as long as we don't change
our heart's codes to the WiFi
Just a little private time after pillow talk in this chat room
bury my past lovers in a present's future tomb

...let's shoot for love, and fall for each other like shooting stars