tell me, what's the key to your thoughts
do you have them locked in your locs –

chasing after a touch of those tangled thoughts
running fingers through your hair, but your
dreads are too thick - still that's alright

                      at least I have you tonight.

I was the pencil that etched the silhouette of your love –
a shadow standing as a sentinel as you strode ahead.
I was your pen, inscribing these lines with the ink
of my tears – I tore away the initial pages of the first
love letters I crafted for you.

Love is blind… I don’t see much of you in either
of my thoughts or dreams.

How must I refer to you now, when all the references
on how to love were born from the moments we shared –
all the descriptions I experienced when it was still
me and you?

I only seem to see you now as just a silhouette.

I saw Heaven hanging over my head like a chandelier, it's
angels were swimming in the light, whispering sweet hymns,—
in a kaleidoscope filled with broken dreams.
The gates fell open like a strand of hair, trumpets were blaring for kings, with thrones like rocking chairs, of my ancestors and their heirs. On earth, I had cattle trodding around my heart to pay for love; as dowry couldn't pay enough for who I once loved.
I drank the tears of Heaven's rains, to tie my tithes wrapped
around my neck; waiting for their fortunes reigns.

I kissed an angel that melted my lips, and had suckled on the ******* of mother nature, who fed me milk and honey to keep me alive. I danced around the edge of an end, where life begins once again. My toes felt cold as a tear drop lost in snow,— my ears were ringing like the church carillon, calling me to repent.
And from the stained glass window frames, it all immediately painted out my pain.

I thought of you, just before I took my last breath, begging the favours from the mistress of Death. I felt like a flower in your hand; each petal being picked away, asking the question of,
"does she love me or love me not." I thought of being holy enough to fit in your heart, but I was as holey as the holes in my socks. My prayers all stunk of the lie behind them all. I looked into your eyes to see heaven inside, as I was living in the world.
I bit on time to have it for seconds, and served a dish of revenge only in my heart,— I was taught it will always be a cold meal; so
I'd use my spark of love to keep it warm. I shared stories with
the world, told my biggest secrets to the sky, and left
breadcrumbs to them, in every word of my poems.

Still...in the chaos of my mind, lied a still river flowing with worth. Drowning myself in your eyes, as your every tear was the inspiration of what became our story. But I know in the end, our love will just be another person's story...

Her fairest words not an apology,
Words that bother me, eating her up,
'All that your are is swallowing me; doubting me,
feeling cowardly:' But not what you want to be:
For daily days so hourly, judging men horizontally,
screaming in your head 'acknowledge me,'
'And just apologise to me':

Back when the world was loving,
You for your chest, interests in *******;
They're spending pays on and invest,
Leaving children eggs on your nest:
None of them did impress, but only did undress:
Leaving your hair in a mess, and moving onto the next:
With their sins stealing your bless: To Pastors,
how do you confess? The gave you more,
but made you feel like less:

Child how do you love;
As you're sick of what some of
Them speak of when, they say it's young love?
Taking your portion, and happiest emotions,
Bare on your flesh like erosion,
Rubbing against you like- Their body lotion:

I do try to love you for you,
But can't relate to what you've been through:
They've stuck their hurts on you-
Like glue, more than one time or two:
They used you, abused you, tossed you,
away, straight after they ******* you: Threw you,
Found their release through you: Lining up,
To view you in a-
Queue, fitting their sizes in a small shoe:

I now understand why,
You are who you are in the first verse.
Giving them your worst, from those who
stole your worth: Hands in a bag-
Stealing inside your pursue. So hard for you
To converse, hoping to be anyone else in the entire universe:
I see how it hurts, and how quick you curse:
Told to move forward; trying to have,
All your pains and struggles go in reverse:
They gave you their love by force,
And all of the times it did leave a hurt:
Without remorse, making you their main course.

So as I write this verse,
With tears through the pain of your teen years:
Those darkest moments and your fears. All of those,
Left you after a night shift; shifting their gears:
But I'll try my best dearest sister,
To be right here. When those demons-
Try creeping back in: When the lights are so dim:
But I don't know where you've been,  
But I'll share all of your hurts like a twin.

Raise your chin;
Clear you're skin,
And help you fix what's broken from within.

Pen this verse-
For all of them to know;
That you don't have to face the hurt alone:
Don't feel like you're all on your own,
You could be whole, even if the process is slow:
But I'll help piece back together your shattered Soul.

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.

Carrying a fair number of tears, like carrying
a baby on her back; a nurturing bath of her scars
like a cat that is licking its new-born. She sits on top
of pride, quickly as humbleness calls a benchmark

Finding myself in the uncharted depths of her heart;
I see the cooling effect of one’s tears in mirrored streams
My nocturnal beauty, that must be loved in the shadows;
hiding away the bags of eyes, in the masks of pretty eyeshadow

She's priceless to every penny for a thought, she buries
all of her words, in kisses engraved in a passionate time

Pieces of a heart made out of yarn- narrations of silver tears,
from golden eyes; bronze is her place in seeking blessings
A hard rock, that is made soft by her gaze; water springs
out of it… but she’s only loved by herself after she’s loved
everyone else

I've been crying my eyes shut,
i could barely see the world,
-failing to see myself in a mirror
reflecting on how my fragile state is
made of glass.

I tried to be ahead of myself,
but wasn't on top of a lot of things,
so i behead myself, just to cut off old thoughts
and i could have sold my soul, but i tend to
sell myself short; as i can no longer pour
out my feelings,- i guess i'm too poor.

I hope I at least pass through people's thoughts,
but i know i'm a bit too passive, and make
passes on all of my best quotes
and i'm always stuck in one particular
moment,  like an old photo.

I tried to sleep with my thoughts,
but i've got a restless kind of mind
waking up to the days, of another sleepless night
nowadays when i pray less, cry less
and don't seem to care about my midlife faith crisis
when i'm doing things that make me seem Christless
still i wouldn't advise this.

I know my attitude don't always match
my soul's latitude; especially when
everything in my life goes south
as the magnitude of my worth, puts me
in a foul mood,- i played a foul move
flying my cold heart away from winter,
but still had a fowl kind of love.

I haven't been to church in a while,
telling myself, "I'll be there Sunday"
But I misheard myself, he was really
saying, "someday, someday"
Work always calls me in, before Mondays,
and Mondays are so mundane
every feels the same, the same; please can
i feel something, something, someday.

In such a forced game of Tetris-
coming across those who block progress;
the hostility, in the sweats of labour mopped
up, by the heat escaping most of your pores

cupped lips, just for a little fill of a loving
kiss- the material of body language with a
string of words- long enough to reach the
****** of any conversation

Expression doesn’t exist much from a stranger’s
lips; lest you know their face with a sight of
good will. But I must be far short of the sun,
to give such a bright smile as a comforting
response- a single moon under its loon

of a man hiding away in these shadows

Steal a whisper from the breeze – wipe your shoes at the threshold
of Father Time; the embrace of Mother Nature bosoms over my gaze,
nourishing me with the vivid picture of life yearning for sustenance.
As a wailing child, wrap me in the blanket of my dreams; my sheets
stained with yellow – don’t label me as yellow, for I despise
being ******.

Capture a flair in a brushstroke – the delicate arch of an eyebrow,
lifted at the sight of the Cross; “I still ponder how,” they criticized the
woman who dried His feet with her hair – she must have been bold.
Now, resting at the foot of the Cross; I must be wise to take down
those footnotes.

Lend a smile from a tear – grinning through the pain, the ache of
existence is merely this relentless cycle within the machinery of time.
A lavish timepiece; cherish all that you have at hand; and arm your resolve to fulfil His Will.

I’m seven steps away from Heaven, in a world where I’m a corner
away from the Devil – so if I give into these pressures, it means I'll
give myself into these earthly pleasures. But the world still gives
a toast to your efforts, as it calls you, "so toast," in your present.
As I've been around the mundane of numerous dead conversations,
decomposing in a grave. But only when there’s something on the
lines, does talk among fools hold a grave importance.

Still, bring me flowers as if it where my day, as I plan to be a letter
at the cemetery – with the wisdom I gained, to share. My whole life
would be these songs written as poems; trapped in my pen as a
snare; while the beating of heart’s passion plays on like a snare.

And there, where there are people who care for us; it's only in death
will we know those who were good at pretending their love for us.
And I’ll find those lovers, chained to each other like slaves – and I'll
give the sweetest dreams to the fearful bunch, whose beds act as their
trial runs to their graves.

Whereas we all live just to die someday, which will be one day –
yet we take this life day by day, making the most of them, like it
were your very last day; the day will eventually come. Still, what’s
to income for us, is what will become our action's outcome. Death
isn’t something you can run from, buy your way from, or delay any
longer for anyone – yet we must live life, remembering that His will
is always done.

Hitchhiking at night, caught a lift with
the sun. Riding around the many of stars.
The heavens close at hand, hell conspiring;
while the world was burning.

I must of been roaming around
Judgment Day. At the edge of oblivion;
wondering which place I should go.

Limbo it was; uncertain like the ghosts
of their incomplete dues.
Two extremes, of the crowded silence;
and emptiness of all their screams.

                   Was it only a dream?

While my eyes were still open;
but blinded in their tears.
Bare hands that hold onto the heaviest
of all my greatest sins.

Cold and paralysed; I came back to life.
Soon to return back to earth.

                        Oh what a trip!

By the coldest depths of the sea -
soaring in my highs as a bird with no wings,
a cliff diver so afraid to jump; silent most of the time.

My greatest pride is in my eyes, for if I stare
at for you too long; we'll make it a worthwhile time
looks do ****; so staring at pretty face is suicide.

As life could be perfect, if you live without purpose
who would judge you if you hold no case to plea,
how complex wouldn't you be in this perplexity
For without purpose none are pressured to be -
seemingly so free, yet it's a freedom so cheap
But for the struggles in life, what purpose do
you have to shed your share of tears

Are you not free?

No, life isn't perfect, even as you make your way
to fulfil your purpose - but there's no great purchase
in doing nothing for yourself. Our struggle to live
a day as a pretty flower in an ugly world, is what
makes us a relatable bunch. Perhaps too sober in
facing troubles; momentary pleasures are so warm
while the tears afterwards are all so cold.

In this modern age,
every man is just looking for a hole to fill,

I’m just looking to fill
the heart-shaped hole in my chest
to find a love that is honest and so real…

__

In the vast abyss of emptiness, as nothingness
reigns supreme, there lies a flicker of value,
a glimmer of hope.

Within our power to decide what treasures
we shall pour into the hole of our hearts,
the means to mend the fractures of
our souls – to be whole.

Please,

don’t start to believe having a large circle of friends
is the closest thing to having a halo – not everyone
in your life is a holy person. But they love to dig up
something worthwhile out of you; leaving you only
as a holey person.

—He builds the house
  She makes it home
   And both make it
    Home sweet home

Happy at work,
much happier alone at home.
Out a little outside the world,
being a moment alone is a much better free roam.

Home,
is where the good food is.

And so, it seems like an additional day
you’re back counting on misfortunes,
As when they named you spoiled,
that always made you feel so less important,
A foreigner everywhere in gatherings;
as your spoken words, feel imported,
You’ve felt like fallen wine, as all your
maturity blemished the floors—
A child grounded, by your countless flaws.

Dreadfully ascending out of your many
troubles, but you slip up on life’s stairs,
As all of those hypothetical elevating eyes;
sometimes bring you down, with people’s
awkward stares.

You’ve done your best, while
pretending like you never tire,
But sometimes you lose the grip to
that drive, like a worn-down tyre,
Still, you have to wear a heroic smile
as a part of your attire;
—and between having a part of will to
do any well, the world spins the notion
of it not being so, like a tyre.

You’re covering up a wave of hidden
emotions, in a couple ***** durags,
Articulating them, always feels too late,
—a poor clothing of words; in these due rags.

In truth, you feel like words
that sound the same, but with
two different meanings,
Your life is just this relentless,
finding out one remarkable meaning,
As your purpose is what you’ll look out
yourself...no I mean, In.

Honesty of this heart, I would not live to give my darling the whole world to have for it's not mine to own.
Or a million dollars for that doesn't fill my pockets, for I'm not a Puppet to money, neither it's pawn.
But I surely have something different in this very heart to give,
This that is the real me, not any of the lies I would tell you to deceive.

You are a honeyed vessel
Where nobility is born
As time fills it up, until it
Overflows with sweetness

An eye for nurturing life,
As a caretaker who stands firm,  
Adhering to my heart, as your
Tender love’s warmth unfolds

///a bee you see;
does all for its queen-
my honey bee, my honey queen,
so sweet are your eyes; that I prize
a honey fortune to fight for;- a deathly sting.

///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.

To bury a charm within this grass;
Let it stretch out my reach by a third of an arm-
I've been a love dealer, I was a third wheeler;
I was a candle maker, before the candle holder
Drifting in the breeze like a forlorn leaf
From a withered flower...

So cover my face in dirt,
To bury myself beneath the charm that does
The heavy lifting- love is so unforgiving; pulls me
Back further away- it's so **** receding, yet my longing
Only grows stronger; but I sound needy even
When I'm pleading; still my heart is bleeding

Still a man now, but also just a hopeless creature

Kissing under the gaze of the twinkling stars,
with the moon softly illuminating our embrace,
a tender melody whispered through the night air,
its notes a gentle serenade to our budding love
—reminiscent of innocent children joyfully
chanting a prayer.

In that timeless moment,
as we became lost in each other's presence,
I found myself wishing fervently for this
enchanting connection to linger for eternity,
to be relived over and over. Nostalgia filled
my heart as I envisioned our souls intertwined
in a dance of everlasting affection, painting
our future with hues of passion and devotion.

Yet, the quiet whisper of reality began
to seep through the soft night,
reminding me that all enchantments must
eventually yield to the break of dawn.

With a wistful sigh and a sense of acceptance,
I held onto this fleeting interlude of happiness,
drawing strength from the memory of
celestial magic that had woven us together in
a cocoon of love and longing.

And so, as the first light of morning peeked
over the horizon, signaling the end of us, and
timeless embrace, I embraced the bittersweet
beauty of impermanence, cherishing the
ephemeral bliss before the rising sun
dissipated our shared moment in the
gentle embrace of the day.

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.

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

I knew it was late for me when a girl asked me to do
something romantic for her, and I suggested we play
checkers - and if she beat me, I'd know she made
the draft.🤭🤭🤣🤣🤣

Quick to fold into myself — these are the cards I’m keen to hold.
I’m playing the game of life, love, and growing old.

“Here are your cards, son.” But no one taught you how to play.
No rulebook, no dealer’s grace — just silence and a seat at the table.
So it’s up to you to figure it out, Kassan — learning to deal with
regret while life deals you more hands of hardship to accept.

Go on — place your bet. Will you find success? Will you chase the
dream? Will you even get a shot at love when every reason still
shoots you down? And would you risk it — even after every loss
you can count, forgetting how many wins you once held close?

You deal with the hand you’re given. But even the purest heart holds
the dirtiest intentions — so by extension, you might be playing
with a ***** hand. Still, we all play into this game we call life. It’s a
poker bet, a Crazy Eight, where you don’t even get to declare.
So you study the faces life deals you and wear a poker face to keep
your tells in check.

Don’t count your gains too early. Take them home to count —
slowly, privately. Don’t get robbed by the table just for showing
what you’ve earned. And the casino only closes when you leave.
The lights stay loud and lovely from across the street, but there
are no clocks inside. So you better watch your step.

Because despite how it looks, this life smiles, knowing **** well
it’s not a friendly game.

Emptiness—
filled in the the echoes of loved ones prayers in this void

First a handshake with Death;
a firm grip of arm wrestling between her and Life

A tightening chest, running a marathon of a racing heart
Twas I, chasing after a lost final breath

And drawing a line in the sands of time;
a flatline, revive, and a second try
                
                     "How it feels to die"

Tumbling walls whispering tears —
the sound of fallen walls in the rain,
closing remarks to the echoes of pain.

Tossed red dust's disappearing pieces —
still what we've built for ourselves -
are all these foundations to remain.

I wish this sooner on my life, to have been taught
how to talk to girls...
how to deal with things out of my control...
how to be successful with the right morals...
how to put all my pain in all of my poems...
how to appreciate my highs amongst the lows...
how to make decisions with fact, and not a suppose
how to be tickled by the beauty of life, in between my toes...

I just wish someone taught me all of these things long before

Tending to the soft, hushed whispers of the night,
I find myself drawn to you, longing to see
the reflection of your loveliness in my eyes.
It's as if you have descended straight from the
heavenly corners above, your presence captivating
me and causing my heart to race.
Just as quickly as angels fall from the sky,
we are all falling deeply in love.

The words of strangers often get lodged between our teeth,
their shallow secrets adding a touch of intrigue
to the synchronized movement of our lips.
I am reminded of the moon casting its ethereal
dance upon the clear surface of the sea, creating
a serene and enchanting landscape.
As night falls, a blanket of desires covers everything
that once was, leaving only a sense of a longing be.

Yet, despite this overwhelming love,
I find myself unable to find the space to express
your name with the depth it deserves.
It's as if any attempt to do so merely adds to the
trenches and pits – the abandoned hopes and dreams –
of those who came before me.
Your gaze, burning with intensity, consumes
us like a ferocious firestorm.
I can't help but feel a sense of jealousy towards
even the bathroom mirror, as it alone gets to witness
the intimacy of ******* you.

Poems and hymns become a whispered language that
lingers upon your ear, reminiscent of a cat's rough lick,
eager for a taste of your tears.
It's a language that speaks to my desire to
understand what it truly means to be in love.

And yet, I'm left with only reminders of what
could have been, searching for answers within
the confines of that picture.
Perhaps, if I were to expand the frame to encompass
the potential of our future family, then maybe, just maybe,
it would be enough to paint our own reality.

Darling, if only you could spell out the words correctly,
I could dive into the depths of your mind and
unravel the thoughts that occupy your every waking moment.
But alas, I remain in the position of not fully
comprehending what it truly means to be in love.
A plea escapes my lips, as I humbly ask for your guidance –
please teach me the intricacies of love,
so that I may fully grasp its essence.

Physical desires intertwine with emotional sensations;
the gentle caress of skin speaks volumes about the essence of
one’s character. Unveiling the joy nestled deep within your spirit,
playful, alluring smiles flicker in the radiance of her being.
As the weight of guilt, anger, and anxiety often shadows the one
you cherish, mingling with the mysteries that linger unspoken.
In the wake of a love that has slipped away, she dances through
fragments of her dreams, clad in well-worn socks, still striving to
find her footing. There’s a lingering fear of being tainted by another-
whether through intimacy or confusion—yet she clings to the
innocence of her youth.

A lovely woman stands at your threshold, inviting you to
embrace her; don’t hesitate to welcome her warmth, for her heart
deserves to be cherished. Public displays of affection may be mere
theatrics, but the sincerity behind your words can convey her true
value, no matter the distance between you. Take pride in calling her
yours, but remember, she is not a possession; she is a daughter
of the Divine.

Seek not your reward in her actions meant to please you,
but rather find joy in the vulnerability she shares exclusively with
you, unmasked and genuine. Honour her in such a way that even
with her eyes closed, she can still feel your presence.
Love your woman fiercely, safeguarding her as your treasured gem—
not by offering the world, but by creating a sanctuary where
both of you can thrive together

The void in your gaze will no longer
linger in your mind – we are merely silhouettes
in the daylight and the shadows of night; all our
skins woven from the fabric of midnight, and
each a unique hue of time.

I'm a dancing old machine, with rust in my veins,
the ice of my eyes, and smoke of my words
Are a constant-
interludes between ourselves, as we play in part
As I'm searching in those eyes,
to try and find a fit and figure out what is my own part,

I'm just a towel drowned in a wash,
stranded on love; left high and dry
A text unread, no reply, my battery's out, and a flightless
bird, so mighty to my disguise, of when I was put on
flight mode,

As I drew my heart, painted in all of those memories,
so cryptic to my own self- who really knows me
But just the reasons to my existence, all to the knowledge
of a creator in the skies,

An overthinker in the general sense; though generally most
of my thoughts never make any sense
To write out all of my sins in the pen between
me starting to repent,

                             I'm as human as you are too
                               so natural to the wilds of my heart-
                                              it's all part of my human nature.

Would you dare to pull the trigger-
to press against my heart with the hope that its
rhythm could stretch beyond the confines of this moment?
I am equipped, armed with nothing but a pen, crafting
vivid strokes that dance across the pavement.
I soar above the streets, claiming the heavens as I navigate
the solid paths that define my existence in this urban landscape.

Beneath the joy of the breeze-
the winds reveal the essence of true freedom, whispering
through the branches; that sensation will return once more.
The elements have no true companion or confidant in
this harsh reality, lamenting, “it’s too **** hot, it’s so
freaking cold, this rain is too much, oh God, where has
the rain gone to?”

We exist in a peculiar state of numbness,
caught in the oddity of pointing out the flaws in others
while neglecting to reflect on our own.

The days end like'
The last chord of a song-
As the final curtain falls over
The sky; covering another day
To it's eventual longer night'
An army of silence in the cricks of crickets,
The wickedness of the street calls, yelling out
"Save me, Save me, from the holes in my face"
In a city depraved of maintenance,
A year of the elect; elections around the corner'
I've come to the age to vote; a sexennial older

I a man, like the end of that song
Playing a melody of what self-care, self-motivating,
Self-discipline, and what my true self is willing sing
The key is, to be the beautiful that was tuned into your spirit

                                     ...Sing loudly myself

Our bodies will die as stone; buried beneath the earth –
We’re resting days, until the end of days is unearthed
For all our own sins have fallen from Adam’s curse
And perhaps when we fall in love,
It too is a curse…
When all the effort we give, just never works

Yet, as somebody’s child is probably crying
Would the sky truly wipe their tears –
Our skies are dying…
As the winds blow in mystery; never telling us
Where they’ll go – we hope to dream, we dream
For hope, but is hope worth your dreams dying

We are only but a strange paradise
Praying up to Heaven, for a means to survive
We love, we hope, we hate, we cry, we try
And all will die – question is, what do you choose
To do with what you have left of this life?

Get a piece of it all, how I'd sweat to have it all.
But only of taste, that my lips slowly run dry. Biting through the small pieces of flesh till I reach the bottom.

And I've run dry in my ways, the same ways that get me in so much trouble.
And in these ways I've learnt to be a little more humble.

But it's not the easiest of things when you build your dreams on foundations that will soon tumble.

But I've seem to have missed the bottom, floating still in the air.
So why doesn't someone rescue me there, Lord almighty don't curse me out while I'm likely to swear.

Get a piece of it all, everything I have doesn't feel enough.
For I can easily think of only nothing in this life.
So to say human nature is typically so tough.

Life's a jungle,
not all our feelings are tame
Falling widely in love for somebody,
often we can't explain.
Feelings we can't bear,
just be careful not to be caught in the snare.

So I got robbed
by my shadow last night;

           That's pretty dark.

I threw a steak at a girl;
that's a tender way to meet.
But I got beat with a
hole in my head;

       That's an empty thought.


And she broke my nose
so I couldn't smell;

             Her intentions.

I told her she
was pretty sweet;
and was offered a piece.

                  I bit off her lip.

And I was told;
I belong to the streets;
that's really funny because
I won't allow anyone to;

               Walk all over me.

I don't think she got
what I really meant,
So to seem concrete,
I went on to buy her a bag;

                         Of cement.

Yesterday,
I lost my cool;
writing a surprise exam
yet the test was;

              Such a breeze.

It gave me food for thought,
but I kept on complaining,
because I'm still hungry;

                  And want to eat.

And I laugh so big
at my own jokes,
because I took humour,
and added enormous;

             To make it humorous.

Some people seem more interested in looking
for someone’s attention – rather than finding
Genuine love.

As they aren't truly searching for a person to
be their person; but just a person to satisfy their
Own hungers.

Who tries to make ends meat,
but never been fed
Pray on the daily, for just for an extra slice of bread?

I want some cake,
just to know the taste.
Make a little dough, so I can bake,
Get stuck in some beef. A while
since I've had some steak.
Put your life on the line, just to see what's at stake.

Food for thought I gave, can I have some feedback,
Light on all my responses, guess I'm just a snack.
Pray for me, with grace, and thanks.
To never overindulge, avoiding stomach cramps.

And a couple meals, to keep me fed.
Gain a couple pounds, earn a little bread.

My eyes are hungry.

Your eyes so sharp; hint at a piercing yellow in the air-
beyond measure beyond what we lose reasons to care for.
Therefore, you shall find me down a path to the honeyed
days, when all we try to hold on to, tilts and drifts away.
While my feelings for you left me all sun-washed and
golden, now downsizing myself, inches into days.

Forever being the promise of a storm; a cause of havoc in my
heart- we meet, we fall in, fall out of love and finally depart.
Still, I’ll remain searching for the sweetness of your yellow
nectar- the tenderness we both shared. Still steeped in your
honey comb lips; as every kiss was a promise, dripping with
sweet promises, and its amber glow.

                I… remain as the one still chasing after you
                                                   -an eternal hunter bee.

I cried these dirges brashly,
After these long nights
While my skin cracks;
Irrigating it with my dry tears
By the desperate harmattan;
My cries are a rustling of leaves under a sun
That never fades- washing my face in strict rays
Its attendance is long overstayed;
Resting on my absent mind

I sit outside in the world’s
Quick-witted; criticizing eyes
Weeping proudly without a rush of blinking tears;
This everyday world isn’t my beloved home to own-
A shelter neglecting to cover my nakedness

I sit outside in the world’s
Quick-witted; criticizing eyes
With a tiny cloth left damp, sodden and weary
By the stretched tears flowing down my bare *******
The world quickly suckles on my grief –
Biting, pulling, and scarring them by their buds
calling it all fair by its, “Budding remarks”
With the goalmouth of getting itself full up;
Never nursing the agony.  

                     Oh, how my heart hurts!

A heart that crumbles with time,
Gradually fading into that familiar abyss
As my thoughts silently fade away;
Eroded by the chemistry of love- a love lost.
In a manner of desiring to express myself; it seems
Causing its own demise- words soon ignite.

And they become like embers,
Scorning a fire of anger, I kept hidden
Deep within my soul's depths.

The flames dance freely, without a care,
Like a child with matches, unaware.
I watch in silence, filled with dread,
Praying they don't consume my heart, turning it to lead.

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.