The same blood you have, is also a curse to have!
I should be glad, but I'm mad as the one dealing
with the pride of some forefathers dad.

I was taught not to place all of my blame on
how my parents had raised me.
But I can't keep blaming myself; as if they'll praise me.
I often grew up wondering what actual resemblance I
had of my dad.

The last born nobody knew, the other son all the relatives
thought was just some random nephew.
The family picture felt too big for me to be noticed in it's frame.
I felt as a son; but only a son by just the family's name.

Seems I wasn't born the same.

All the first impressions of thinking my mother
was just my aunty. Thinking I was adopted by relatives,
because my real family didn't really want me.


"Maybe I was switched at birth," I thought to myself.
We all could be walking on the same ground,
doesn't mean we're all so down to Earth.

I guess I was buried in it,
for constantly being the one to take up the family's dirt.

The theory of a twin, who died in the womb.
I've felt so incomplete. Missing the other half to make me fit.
Hoping I had died that time as a baby; when I had my first fit.

But to my twin up in Heaven I hope you're keeping that space
for both of us. By the chance my sins get ahead of me,
Could I get into Heaven by the chance of your luck?

To my father on Earth, I grew up wondering if I was ever
the son you wanted, or the one you deserved.
Maybe I secretly got on your nerves, as I felt the
disappointment in those many cuss words.

To my mother in church, I'm not your little boy anymore.
Neither that daughter you treat me as.
My manhood to peers, seemed so poor. And yet I'm the ear
that listens to all of your words, but not the mouth to tell
you my many truths by the galore.

To my brothers by name, we all knew we were never the same.
But as life went in one direction, I was the child who went
the other way. I can remember all of those harsh words
you often said. As if I'm tasting them all from too many past
yesterdays.

To my sister I never had, life could of been easier if you
were the child the family actually had.
That's all I can say, because that's all that I have.

Sighed;

The Black sheep.

A wave of tears gradually carries away the tides of night
Alongside the river that weeps in its current plight
Unheard songs play, to the dead man who loves to sing
A dead silent night, for two lovers to bury the hatchet
In the tomb of being dead asleep in their shared beds-
Waiting for what falsehoods all sweet dreams bring

As the rhyme for a kiss is hiss; the cobra that loudly speaks,
She purrs and catwalks the runway- while her love is expensive
But we pay for it all, as the clock writes out a free verse

Filling poems to the taste of love, for the apple of my eye
A taste so bitter;- with a snake inside that bit my tongue
In a sole of time, the heart breaks- as roses tend to be forgotten
And unfortunately, the apple to my love had gone rotten.

Sleep in between lips,
only for a kiss,
we both admit and submit,
to ignorance being bliss.

Hands on hips,
holding onto parts I miss,
under Christmas lights,
in New year's eve,
you're my resolution's gift.

A star above my head,
a lonely child's wish,
only a Lord could give,
lying in the courts of love,
a case put to rest by deceit,
when we argue and go to sleep.

To then wake up
and repeat.

Storing up the blessing of sky;
Dry arid season is here,
A drought of love; nature's harshest,
5,000 years of stories,
Silhouette of a rural African experience,
you cover the vastness of her land.

"Tree of life"
Whereas the breath of man was origin,
Folklore; stories of our elders and tomorrow's wisdom,
We are all children of the sun,
Bright skinned under the cooling shade of time,
Time as long as a tree has lived, and lives on.

Lest we be wise to store up our stories,
What will our generations remember of us,
Baobab trunk; store up the provisions, love, stories,
Time, blessings, and fruits of our labour at heart.

Baobab tree; blowing the wind,
A symbol of life in harshest of times,
We adapt to our environment; people all to thrive.

It is our nature.

Worthwhile moments printed in memory,
the good, bad and moderate at times,
all that we have now; is all that we can
cherish.

I'm blessed for knowing you all,
the known and strangers. I must have
heard and seen a thousand stories,
I've been blessed to be a part of them all,
even if it was by quick interaction.

Your moment was my moment,
we've made moments together,
a worthwhile experience; we're all
the moments waiting to happen.

Let's enjoy the moment.

///the sky is the limit;- don’t limit
your sights on how far you see yourself going;
a worthwhile could be hidden in a well kept
promise, as the curve lost in your smile, and
the sparkle in your eyes all captivate others
to keep on hoping.

The depth of the ocean;
feels shallow when we
both jump straight inside.
As it's tears make us cry,
when we see the bluest sky.

And with a spray
paint tan of a smile,
It peels off to pieces in
the Sun's glare, on
the walls of your face.
A child lost in a store of
life's advice, soon
after you let go of a hand.
The united shoe laces,
and red eyes,
pretending not to cry.

Love is too heavy for you to
hold, even on the shoulders
that rests the entire world.
In the songs of anguish,
with unassigned chords.

Chewing on your tongue,
to swallow all it's words.
As all you said was in vein.
You felt hidden under the skins
of a plastic face of your nerves.

You and I, try to find ourselves,
as we lose ourselves ever more.
My mind and I are mislaid,
and lost to thought.

How the world hoards to see us: a collective
Of compulsive opinions, so prevalent in their hearts
Amid the prettiness sleeping awkwardly in your eyes
You’re so pretty in my eyes- I just wish you could
See what I see, but you’re so blinded by the
Glass splinters in your eyes, remaining something of
A child, still finding themselves- eternally lost

And so to love-
we're dared to lock eyes;
As with both keys to heart.
And so to enter;
one knows the sound of love's knock.

When you’re dancing underwater, as with feet so deep
inside of the ground. In my absence; you feel so free
as I’m not around. So shy to show off your two left feet,
I’m the least embarrassed to see you at you’re cheeks redness;
as like two overripe apples, (hanging around desire)

Toes shaky as the business hands at the longest meet
and greet, I’m so overjoyed as you dance a night;
would you at least dance one last dance with me?
While singing a happy tune with joyful tears, two weeks of
water works, and choking words, (of how to explain my love)

So accustomed to being here before, crushing my heart,
just to impress a crush. Speed dating conversations; just to
get a feel of the rush.

High on emotions; careful not to crash, as plain expressions
does many harm. But who’s going to put up with the bull,
of the sheets I use to cover the beds of love; I've made to rest
away from despair?

Flattery is key, a twisting lock into a glimpse of your heart,
One last dance it seems we all have; under the music of
life's grand stage, (do enjoy the show)

I enjoy watching you at your most vulnerable, as I'm so
vulnerable in my eyes barely focused on anything else
but you. We all live a single life, but a better chance of it when
we dance together in it as two.

So shall you and I dance?

As she boldly said;

'It only takes-
four words to say,'
              "I'm falling in love,"

He sighed and replies;

'But it only takes-
three to say,'
                 "I'm falling apart."

Taste that stings lips'
Sweetest to tongue;
Refreshes my thirst:

A bite of love;
As a fruit of worth'

Bright yellow smile'
Bright red lips;
And a body wave flow.

                She's not my world'
                But she's my girl;
                Made of-
                Lemon Cherry Water.

////It’s a subtle reminder;
a constantly temporary kind of repeat
—sometimes I cry myself to sleep,
and think to myself, “Hey, was it all
just another beautiful dream”

In the currency of their love'
Could the world pay off;
Gamblers playing their luck?

Darling' we think we're,
Falling for each other:
But only in the effect of'
Falling dominoes.

Roses on your head'
Piercing thorns, sharp thoughts
As I do suppose;
You're open in light' of eyes,
Exposed to the Sun's dust:
Your hard heart; afraid to be'
In water, and turned to rust.

Why do we as kids'
Waste all the time of youth
Before we knew our fears;
And were pressured by peers?
Pressured to pursue this love.

As I only loved you'
Because I was told:
Said so, because it felt a role,
Playing each other in an act
Seen by eyes of those who couldn't;
Find anything close to love:
So they opted to find love in us.

All those fools;
Kids forgetting lessons'
Lessening their time in class.

I know now; I was never in love.

I would try to catch lightening in a jar;

For loved ones to call my bravery striking,
a mighty voice roaring like the falling thunder,
a cooling tongue of caring words drizzling,
and a passion strong as the hurricanes.

But a moment's wish only
comes once,
for lightening never strikes
the same
place twice.

But I still have my glass jar open.

Wasted sober thoughts, prays the hardest without
picking a religion. Sounds as a Muslim, playing Christian.
But just a name; as their friends were pointing and teasing.
All the good days you claim; aren't the ones for the missing.

Wasted sober thoughts, made myself out of made up
thoughts. Make yourself a hero, just to save your worth.
A cape on too tight; squeezing the air out of my neck,
as my delusional depressions is still the only threat.
Bags under my eyes; not tiredness, but all the luggage of
my greatest regrets.

Wasted sober thoughts, my pain is a word I can't explain,
down under like the lowest writes. I must be sad again.
Swept under my head, deeply thinking into my grave.
And I express them well, when I'm feeling a strike of brave.

When I’ve got my fill of wasted sober thoughts,
intoxication to be expressing my unread words.
Do you read me or not; copy or roger this lot?
It's of no fault of your own, just a poem I've written
out of my lows. I'm intoxicated by words.

A love my soul knows it could never claim,  
A heart that I still long for, yet it feels no flame.  
Though I wished them to be,  
They will never be the one for me,  
But in solitude, I whisper their name.  

A heart full of its own shame, I can only weep,  
Tears shared for a love that I long for, but can't keep.  
So, with tears lost in my eyes,  
I gaze at her beauty, as it lies,  
But in solitude's arms, is where I sleep.  

A love that’s vast as the sea,
Yet good men to her are scarce, you see!

I sail by her side, I stand as a mate,  
In daylight, we share laughs, it's great!  
But when night starts to fall,  
I weep, feeling small,  
For a love that I cannot create.

Your eyes run up, chasing after your feelings— the softest echo  
of a heart, once feeling passionately in love, but only in secret.  
A storm of longing; calm beginnings soon roar thundering  
clapping opening and closing gates.  

The haste, becomes the menace of biting into a bullet;  
never knowing its taste. For any chance given, will later on  
pierce through you in secretive conclusions— another round,  
another round, for a scar so yawning, and a memory so tired  
of ruminating last nights.  

Your tears, are picturesque ashes; core flames that shriek
a pain  before a moment’s murmurs. While an after long
upshot,  distinguishes something oppressive, growing
out of your heart’s  flame— your cheeks raised red of blush;
unease in a fiery rose.

Wouldn’t you love to grow openly under the summer kisses  
that wash the earth in light; as for me, it seemed  
reminiscent of your former bright smile.  

You were once the joy forward looking to a better day;  
a ray after the rain. To reign supreme on their minds;
on  top of every thought of you, worn proudly as a crown.        
        The former is gone.  

The world nicked away that stem of your courageous,
precious, and outrageous company; during the wake
of you finding yourself
      _— you’re so restless now. _
What would distinguish your fiery beauty,
is extinguished; diminished,
          — buried by the earth.  

Still your enduring fiery beauty could feed greed  
into Hell’s gate. For even buried in tragedy;
you shall  ascend gladly to avenge those who hurt you,
in your triumph.

Here's a special song in my heart,
And I'll sing it all  day long so we don't grow apart.
Just have all the times of us in my mind,
The one who knows my heart and what's left to find,
I can't do all things I do without you my love
So just keep me close to your hand like I'm your glove.

And don't leave my side,
Till I make you my  bride.
And don't leave me hanging
Till you know I'm not demanding.

You alone can see what's in my heart,
And I can't deny this is your part.
So don't let me down now,
Cause in my heart I made a vow.
Just let me love you,
like tomorrow never came  through.

And don't leave my side,
Till I make  you my bride.
And don't leave me hanging,
Till you know I'm not demanding.

And I love you more then I could ever do,
Just to hold you close while these moments  seem so few.
So here are the words I wrote all about you,
Words that came to be, that all became so  true.
I love you with all my  heart and all my mind,
Just hope to keep you close and by  my side.

Just I beg of your heart, not to leave me hanging.

Stillness
or as the wanting eyes would
wish to see of beauty

But babe, love isn't always as patient
as who hasn't desired a feeling of that rush

Crush, crush, it's crushing my heart
waiting on proclaiming my love
But it's a heavy still; of being under a rock
                                      Love is so hard

I

Love,
could be a streaming river of a constant flow of words.
My tongue tip speaks of many things (All could be so
refreshing)

Lessons are hidden to blind eyes of my river; why not
walk alongside it? Follow along the lessons that stretch
(You may learn)

This river, made of a thousand tears in my eyes. Draws
greatly, and a great sorrow. It tastes sweet, at times
tickling at your throat (To ease a thirst)

II

Like a tall and mighty mountain; and pieces of treasure
no eye has yet seen. My words that are untouched,
the bare minimum of being bare. This land feeds
all others before me and us (My love has great care)

On top of mountains, two rocks at a peak. All rests on them,
all that's made of my dreams. These dreams are always
placed so highly, hoping they're high enough to be seen by
a God.

III

This Valley of stories, of both past & present. The days of old
and soon the many days anew. Of a place I call God by so
many different names.

Mwari, Nkulunkulu, Jehovah, Jirah, King, Lord and Father.

And like God, I witnessed his beauty and glory,
And like God, my mouth spoke of his many creations;
And like God, I said: "it is good"

This valley is where I'm found.

Whispers of tree leaves,
shaking fibres of the very skin. A breeze
creeping through all of the wall cracks.
Breath heavy not of stink, but cold breath;
a weighing heart of ice deep in my chest.

Sin in my bones, (from birth) weakness of
the flesh. Time is plenty on my hands.
Intent on the mind, procrastination under breath.

"I'll do it all tomorrow"

I recalled a bird's song as a morning lullaby,
rooster crow echoes of less time left in a dream.
Diminutive time; clocks going full circle several times.

"Fine I'll do it in the afternoon"

The Eve sets on the day,
as to kiss her Adam, as the first sun.
But it's the last light of dusk coming into play,
wasted by the nothing of planning to do something.

"Snap! Where did the day go"

Back to the start of the end, into the new
beginning of procrastination.

"I'll definitely do it tomorrow"


                                                     ­ Yeah right.

Now in these eyes, petrified, terrified, suicide,
In all the walks of life, fighting only to survive,
A man's pride is weaponized; his failings widely televised,
All the moments of love's bitter sweet,—by what we gingerfy,
Love is red; putting yourself out there to be hurt and jeopardize,
Learning from past mistakes,—change of character we gentrify.

Oh the next line; follow suit of a route to death wrapped in a necktie,
We envy to say "hie," but are accustomed to saying short goodbyes,
As life is a constant trial; walking court cases with a confident smile,
"Guilty or not," all of my shortcomings I press on in their denial.

I've walked a thousand's,—in a mile of every breath of time,
Though I haven't lived a while, I've seen plenty in these eyes.

You'll desire a love;
that could feel like Heaven,
truly in this Hell on Earth,
surrounded by desires of a party life,
One hell of a night;
in those searching empty eyes,
in this hell of a life.

Are you not lost in the hype,
in the darkness of your soul,
searching corners of circles;
in those nights?

SIN!

Seriously In Need;
as the letters broken down...
You're broken too,
as they would pray on aching knees,
truly child, all for your wellbeing.

SIN!

Stuck In Nights,
like the endless one within,
Hating to wake up in this nightmare;
shedding tears all in your few,
favourite dreams.

I look back;
to this frame behind;
the picture of a past,
Seemingly holding onto grips;
held in an echoing bleeding heart.

And how can I not help but smile,
reflecting on this scar,
Of a past I've known;
all to say-

"you've truly come so far"

Living life by a corner store;
buying into people's ideas.
Till my pockets grew empty,
and I was still searching for more.

Kids riding up and down the street,
not knowing much, just good at
disturbing the peace.
Memories we like to hold,
are probably the ones like our first kiss.
We went through times watching the stress of these adults.
Parents fighting each other,
thinking it's all our fault.

Never grew up with much,
had to make it feel like it was a lot.
Every gain we had, came with it's equal loss.
All the mistakes we made,
soon later came with a cost.

From acting shy around pretty girls,
spinning our words to impress them.
But too busy caught up in their curls.
As teens, promising to give them a world,
we knew we couldn't afford.
Spending our free periods in class kissing girls cause, we were bored.

Skipping a few classes, thinking in life we could skip ahead.
Telling each all the lies we rest in everyday,
always backing up your friend.
Teachers calling us out for not
being serious,
We didn't believe their words,
those words weren't really us.

Sneaking into clubs before eighteen,
sipping substances from brown bottles.
The times we had, we were surely wasting.

First few times we were smoking herbs,
pulling hard puffs, till we were disturbed.
Out of luck at times,
when we didn't find love or comfort.
Regardless of the cost,
we'd spend hours on gaming, all through the summer.

Boys feeling like men when we busy getting hooked on ****.
The start of our addictions, and the hunger of flesh was what showed.

Fitting in with the crowd till you found yourself,
realizing we don't have forever this youth.
But we didn't treasure it's wealth.

We're all adults now, and this adulting life at times *****.
Eventually I'll have to find love,
but falling in love really hurts and cuts.
With the fears of not giving her enough.

But we're adults now,
look how far we've come.
Can't runaway from the responsibility,
else we'll all be on the run.

This is the tale of growing up.

To live better for an ex, what an ugly sight,  
Heartbreak fuels change, day and night.  
Love's once gentle embrace,  
Seems so lost in this after race,  
While masks hide the truth from the light.

“I never really needed you anyway,”
Doesn’t that face dare to say,
But the mask covering your heart –
Isn’t that an ***** that has so much to impart,
Having so much more to say.

Surrounding backgrounds, backdrops that empty glass eye
Ringing in your head; no means to pretend pretence
—always a means to an end. Like a long goodbye to an
old friend still one who owes you tens

A decade of friendship in these confused lines —you onced
slept with one of the guys. Not around, but a lot of times with
the same person, to say at least you've gone a few rounds
The only one to make you come out of a shell; fuelling up
the tank of a monthly desire. But you couldn't tell your friends; despite feeling sensations good as Heaven on earth— their preying
eye opinions would give you a lot of hell.

Still last night was one hell of a night, as he held you so
tight, a knight guarding you from those nightmares
As he tasted your lips, and tears while seeing all those
dark scars under your white night dress

Said, "you're too dark to be found by love," your usual
yellowbone cousins liked to make such comments.
You felt too ashamed to go play with the other kids on the
sunny beach. And it stained your heart; once trying yourself
to bleach

You just forgot your feet; a foot in your mouth kicking back
your words. Unlike the other girls, he liked you more
for trying to stick to your morals. Floral, a scented glow-
a light smell of tragic beauty caught under his nose
Some nights hoping you'd be court, but in your family regards,
you're breaking tradition's law.

Lore beliefs, feeling seven days kind of weak, and it felt
so stranger that you fell in love with him in a week
It took a trip on this crazy life journey, for you to be riding
this long love trip. But he was only meant to be a friend
still it benefited you knowing he had seen you as more than
that from back then

But those still living behind, say you and him don't mix
into a good kind. As to mean the dark can't kiss a light,
such mean judgments, regardless of it being a modern relationship.
It's an old mindset, and I know he won't mind keeping it in secret
But it will all stay stuck in your mind, along with him

Oh my friend,
how'd I ever give the best advice to your situation
But only say and imagination that Adam and Eve
we're black and white. So wouldn't we have been
interracial from our creation?

"Take that sorry and swallow it; like the first spit of the morning. 
That holds around your neck by; the grips of life.

Your sorry's are so out of hand.

But does it hold anything, if I'm not touched in the first place,"
I had asked her. But it felt like I was asking myself more of why
I couldn't accept her apologies.

A shadow calls-
vexed by whisper
In the night;
as I hear echoes of pity.

Through blackest eyes;
seeing nothing in-
Vast openness;
and at its center,

                     A bird.

Brokenness resting
on closed wings
Prisoned to ground;
stretching hand to her

                          But;

She takes nothing-
of my helping aid
The sky;
has betrayed her;
Once she had loved

Each day passed;
I came to feed it love
By the crumbs;
each piece was strength

                          Until;

A day her-
wing could stretch
Flying highest to
tomorrow, and beyond
The black bird;
once again, became her

                       Fired Phoenix.


And so;
a light of hope
Lost in world's dark;
once again found her

                               Spark.

Spoken word: the resting tongue laiden on potential thought.
I exclaimed, "I am, a poem," loudly as courage lets the heart
be bold in her voice.

She is love, but often wicked and rough.
A cup you fill of often watered down emotions. Do you focus
onto past or present experiences,—or are experienced in growing
a worthwhile future? I attest to myself of a testimonial; in these
dreams I've perceived.

Do see I firstly before you see just some random guy. I am
bright,—as two suns crashing into each other; that the stars
witnessed in awe. I am spoken word, a poem of endless words.
As you see less of me, so shall I give them more.

I am, a poem.

Can I ask for a little more action,
with out really asking
Sounds a bit passive, so I try to
ask in a past tense
And this time around really *****,
so turn around so I can pass the time
******* on your front

"Okay," that last line was kind of dull,
and no excuse for me being so blunt
But could I still ***** a little thought,
and plant a bit of that seed, and see how that story grows,
And take you on a tasty journey; you'll be my main course

"*******," wait no, it's actually a golf course;
looking for a perfect stroke to get it into that hole
My little birdie; let's play, as we pave our way
into a concrete conversation before we go

Lead the way, and I'll chase your ideas like a plan in motion
Press into you, to prove yourself in an interview,
and I'm the one doing all of the reporting
As they say love can sometimes feel like it's getting old,
but I'm sorry, that's still old news to me

So we could chain each other up, but you're free
to do whatever you want to me
I'll be your memory form bed,
and remember all of the best positions
And you could leave the rest to me, and if I did it wrong,
you wouldn't waste your time to lie to me

I know, every expression of your feelings; reading
your body language- as you're my beautiful love poem
And in a spoken word of desire; what's there more of me
to say; to any kind of performance leaving a bang,
Let's make a little slam poetry

It's in this next stanza, I'll tell you of how
I'll dig into you; and thankfully it won't get so boring
As I'm feeling like a power tool, drilling a little pleasure,
to an eventual release, and to ease off the day's pressure

I turn you on; no not as a light, but let me see the light
in your eyes, taken so lightly by other guys
They couldn't see that glorious sight, that acts so bright,
a movie star, as all of the stars start to align tonight

"I'll give it to you straight,"
put a little heavy ecstasy, as you had so long wait
Put this love in a few shreds; a few times I had to grate,
yet it somehow ends up so **** great
I'm just trying to score, and if it feels extra great,
feel free to rate

I just need a place to begin, and the final
destination is how you and I will feel at the very end.

I could intensely sense the metallic tang
of blood coursing through her weary eyes,
painting a vivid red picture of agony and despair.
It was as if the very essence of life had transformed
into a distasteful reminder of mortality,
akin to the off-putting sensation of morning breath.

The realization that death could manifest itself
within one's very being caused a shiver to travel
down my spine. The odorous assault of decay
lingered in the air, assaulting the senses with
each blink of an eye, echoing the macabre scene
painted by the stained marble floors,
a canvas of violence and loss.

There are moments when I yearn to hold onto
you as a means of seeking stability in the chaos
that surrounds us. Love, often described as a blind journey,
leads me to close my eyes at times, attempting
to shield myself from the harsh truth that love
can sometimes obscure reality.

The turning dials of that old car radio,
Metallic, as the rubber coverings fell
off. What had once protected, lost by
the twisting of that radio's lifespan.

In a car, old as it's manufacturers who
are all dead,
Her strength is still strong on this long
journey to the bigger city.
I fiddle through that plastic box of old
cassette tapes. My finger picking out a
title to fill the radio's mouth. To fill it up with
so much music; that it's old speakers *****
out noise.

Choking the engine of the car's battery,
the lights on the gauges flicker,
And I pull over the side of the road,
it's dark outside and cold. Not of the night
but of the music's chords.

I'm alone.

Waiting for a stranger to stop by,
and jumpstart my car. But only a God,
could jumpstart my heart.
As I reminisce on what it felt like being in
love. A station I had once tuned into,
with all it's cheesy love songs. And their
catchy hooks.

I miss the sound of the music.

A small car pulls up beside me. Yellow
as the sunflower open to the sun.
Bright as a smile; of someone you're glad to
see. 'How long has it been,' you'd ask them.

The window went down;
as a girl with a smile greeted me only by a gaze.
'Do you need help stranger,' she asked.

'Help with a lot of things, I doubt you could
come up to. But you're welcome to try,' my
heart replied.

I nodded slightly, hoping this could be
a quick fix. The quickest way for me out
of a conversation.

But my car was dead.

The stranger offered me a ride to the next town,
to grab a mechanic. I reluctantly agreed.
And before I hopped in that box Sunny,
I had to grab my plastic case of cassettes.

She seemed keen on what contents I had
at hand. Insisting I put a tape inside her radio.
'Hey that's my favourite band,' she said.

I never smiled as real in that moment,
than I ever did before.
With so much in common, we fed our ears
on good music, with our similar tastes.
Making it to the next town, I gave my
thanks.

Not expecting much back.

'Here's my number. We should hang out sometime
to listen to some good music.
I'll trade you my number for a couple of tapes,'
she said.

She drove off leaving me with a smile,
a number, and a reason for them both. As I
wondered where next this story would go...

I'd love to tune into that.

All of your curves, how do we walk in straight lines;
how do we dance so sublime – how are you the weight
on my mind in my wet dreams, from tears that flow?
You drown out my pride!

Had I ****** you that much, to want to change bladders;
though sleeping alone is it’s own song, would you be
the song bird singing in my dawn?

As the sands of time flow down your hourglass figure,
how are the days of our lives, any less worth, when we
get to spend the night… together!

But as you rest your thoughts on my chest, there’s a deep
pressure, when you take your time to say you love me –
it’s a slow pleasure, when I try to rule out the space that
should be between our breaths, it’s a small measure…

I must be murmuring your name under my breath

An atheist might not believe in God or angels, but maybe
around you, he could believe in being around a person that
feels like a place close to a heaven.

upon the foundation of love; on the
streets of all our lives,
paved in the many ways of expression,
our love given— is the time willing to be
spent.

       love=time: which both make up life.

to echo the sound of many, the sound of i;
of all the time, all possible things, and a hope
i hope never to die,
as the past like a dearest old friend, the echo of love,
fades as quickly as it once was made.
      ...but soon shall we all meet again.

You lived twice; living out a life for two,
In the spring; you sprung out your sprouting love,
But it all falls; woodlands descending echoes into madness,
For she wasn't as mad over you.

So you deferred away from despair,—
Love being an icy glass cutting your teeth,
Despondency circling round her running in your mind,
Seems no other love to compare.

Bare you a kiss; sweet as it's lamentable finale,
On top of a hill, by the bend and red eyes,
Crying as if; the ocean's waters ran away from it's place,
You said, "goodbye my sweet Sally"

I'm just a representation of expression, feeling
so unexpressed. The presentation; outlines me
as part of the Depressed.

A manifest; label me an outcast. In a commonplace;
so void of it's heart. Commonly known as the ones
not meant to last.

But I trumpet truths; indulging in those lost souls.
To voice the voiceless, speaking of their all.

All of your worth.

Trampled down by the world's self doubt, it tells
me; 'you can't and will fail to do.'
While I'm only trying to figure a lot of things out.

Casting out two ears; to be in an empty silence,
letting this world try it's all to speak.
Being part of a world's mountainous worries,
forcing any to they peak.

My past mistakes and all missteps, are senseless in
the troubles of all the days long gone.
Even when I had all the necessary preps.

Life wasn't painted to always make a lot of sense.

But let me voice all the depressed. To those now
gone silent; without their freedom to be expressed.

We're just all the Depressed.

Bit the taste of thunder;
you're not afraid of it's bark?
Stood still in everything falling down;
there's lightening in those eyes;
Showing you and I have a spark.

You and I; have the reins to love.

Treat any the same
no matter what the race.
Despite what we chase,
why can't we chase away all racism?

(Chase for a better world)

My tongue lowers; as nothing can be expressed,
the love has not many words.

As are the prideful
remarks on breast.

I fear for the words to say, aren't perfect
in the ceremonies of love's rite,

The strength of my words only decay. A burden
of mine to lose my might.

Eyes heavy upon this love,
Preyed onto by your glorious sight. Oh how my
silent love only knows wit,

Belonging to a shy man's lips.

For this love she said to,
"wait on me"
Despite my heavy heart,
love don't put your weight on me.

The long wait has a heavy weight

Gnawing thoughts;
Biting beats on brain'
Yawning dots'
Sizing them both insane.

                 Or perhaps plain:

His head hurts'
At their single home;
She wears only long skirts.

                      Darling;

Do we surpass our shys;
Being too afraid'
To show our insides?

Shy as a tall mountain'
Hiding behind clouds:
Seems for this first,
We both have a lot to climb.

I'm not one at times to be easily loved, I'm also not one
you could quickly hate. I still appear afraid, even with a
brave face on. I could be romantic, but I might not have the
right words in person. I think a lot about ***, but feel comfortable
on the thoughts of still being a ****** (sometimes)

I'm not always moved by the crowd, or like to follow trends.
I'm photogenic, mixed with social anxiety amongst the unfamiliar
faces around. I barely raise my voice; sadly won't always be so manly.
I value family, though mine is so divided. Their subtle rude
humour is a form of love. I have it too, so I hope you don't mind it.

My music taste is a wide tongue of different genres.
Artic monkeys, Twenty one pilots, Frank Ocean, Kendrick Lamar,
Hippie sabotage, Bach, Earth Wind & Fire, and one or two songs
by Rihanna. I prefer to listen on my own—in the sense of bluetooth
speakers filling my anxious anxiety. At least with earphones on,         I feel free playing with full volume. And writing poems in great variety.

I'm learning to cope with long hugs, but just ease off from the
sides. It's a fight of being overly sensitive to touch; or me
liking those tingles at times. Or maybe I'm saving my sensitive
parts for a future wife. I try to swallow my pride, but it's like
a knife, cutting me from the inside. I've thought about suicide too
many times. Passions being only imaginative in my mind. A gift
with a curse behind, so unkind.

I'm unlike my father, only with his temper at better control.
They say my looks come from my mother; but my character
definitely is a mix of both.

I'm weird, humble, funny, emotional, girly (sometimes)
cautious, moody, caring, charismatic, shy, awkward, the worst
dancer (without a couple drinks in me) calm, wise, and still
finding out more about myself.

                                         Yep! That's basically me. (Messy Entirely)

Tears of a bleeding knife; spoken promises from silent lips;
The language of one swaying a conversation- like their hips

I have been a victim of defeat, while snuffing up my tears;
Alongside the skeletons parading around in my closet
As a bone to pick with love, while picking up roses
Traveling through the thick of things as two lovers
Both stealing hearts- and being thick as thieves

As a moon spotlights over misery- wretchedness still,
Still under the sun we must celebrate in amnesia
Of what has passed- our past fades in time;
As its ticking clock of regret, is no longer mine

A breeze of promise echoes- searching for change
The very chances that elude the sage geckos
As we march towards another battle ground
I smile as a promise of fighting for better
Neither as a man who wears a frown

             I look above for hope’s song