Government officials weave their words into riddles –
All your secret crushes, gaze at you, with laid bare feelings
Forever searches endlessly, all around for its dreamers.

“Going out to multiple,”
Aspires to make a lasting mark on all of its creatures
Beloved skins still ache for the warmth of bygone touches –
All the diamonds within you, long to be called precious.

A thankless toil, is inscribed by the silent prayers of regret;
As faith tenderly draws to those who embrace fresh beliefs –
The roots of our lineage all stand as reluctant witnesses.

While debt is the secret lover,
You so desperately try to conceal from both family and friends
Poverty, the only hidden vice, lurks quietly beneath all of
our best efforts

Suicide is a simple fate for those who have sadly lost all hope
Indulgers in life's fleeting pleasures- their souls have unfortunately
surrendered as well.

Enemies seem more trustworthy, their malice clear; unmistakable
Those we hold dear can betray us, their misdeeds cloaked in the
guise of familiarity.

The essence of our character is scrutinized by the judges' gaze—  
As the loudmouths clash with the silent observers  
Time wields a battalion of uncertainties when it’s scarce,  
And though words can weave exquisite poetry, we often  
Rush to voice our thoughts without a moment’s pause.

                                             Pause- and read that all again!

Reading the Bible, when Jesus died
Each time I was feeling suicidal. Grab onto the rifle,
Feeling ****** in those cycles. Who am I though, in the
These staying thoughts, wondering where to go?

Reading a newspaper, to impress the daily
Struggles of my neighbour. Asking for a teaspoon of cooking
Oil as a favour. We all bleed the same, but act as if we’re
Not made from the same creator?

Reading the comments, the racial barriers,
Looking black, but I was told I belonged to the coloureds.
White tongue speaking, too seem a little different, yet
I wasn’t regardless. A garden of people, but why did it feel
Like we weren’t any part of those pretty flowers?

Reading the gimmicks, the fake prophets, and
All of those acting religious. Irreligious, eerie thoughts
Of those seeing their own hate as a witness. Can you believe
This, or are we the generations just to repeat this?

Reading up on the icon, believing one could be my
Saviour while they’re well gone. I could remember all
Of the lyrics of a trendy song. But not enough verses of
My Bible with the dust on. Would I rise less to Heaven by
The next dawn?

Reading the tears of years, I’ve got the tragedy of
Losses to former peers. Not in death, but feels like it
When we haven’t spoken in years. It’s clear we weren’t
Here for too long, to relate on our greatest fears.

So I’m just reading, reading, reading,
Never to stop reading all that I see.
I’ve read into so much matters of this crazy world,
My eyes at times bleed.

I read on...

Why is love so real,
only when it really hurts.
Especially now,
when she's your real first?

Reality basis of an empty mind filling up an entire space,
Inhaling the oxygen of Holy atmosphere quickly, to be the first one ahead, as if we were in a race.
Counting the time backwards to redo all my past steps I did way before.
I have a thousand dreams and goals in mind, but you'll still hear me ask for a little more.

Realize who and what you are,
before the world claims it to be.
You are what words
speak of you.
But realize amongst ten thousand tongues,
which one tells the Truth.

Things written on our hearts
become like scripture.
What you read into the most,
the mind starts to believe.
As what's in your heart,
your actions show for the world to see.

So realize such things
for such are what we are,
As human beings.

It is truly a strange irony;-
to ponder upon the behavior of a foolish dog,
daring enough to bite the hand that nourishes them,
Just as a bee daydreaming about stinging their queen.

Tell me what sort of dreamer,
would fairly detest even a fragment of a tranquil sleep,
As someone who yearns for the warmth of love and
affection, but hurriedly scorns its gentle embrace.

I do ponder the contradiction within,
a peacemaker who harbors an aversion to perfect silence;-
A baffling realization to witness, how swiftly one can
turn against the very source of provision and care,
—that which sustains them.

Yet we persistently turn our backs on our Creator...

My ears catch the hush of the stream,
A red balloon floats in my dream;
With worries that swell,
I count breaths as well,
Afraid of love's tender gleam.

Now my gaze drifts away from the ground,
As my heart finds a rhythm profound;
In this flight up high,
With the clouds I will fly,
In a world where true love can be found.

A red bicycle just sits on a wall
waiting, waiting patiently, to be rode

To be out on the road once more;
more or less a reason not to be left out in the cold

Red in a fiery paint; red fury blaze in a colour as bold
waiting, waiting patiently; not on display, being
watched and ignored

It had hopes of being picked out of that store;
to be out in the world with so much in store,
—to be so much more

Waiting, waiting patiently; once as excited as the little girl
that opened him out of that Christmas box;
To be found in awe of a child and their parent's applauds

But alas, as it's winter's pricking thorn,
this red little bike has to wait all winter, pierced by the thought
of knowing he has been left out in the cold

Don’t go making the joke — you know, the one
that always hits a girl’s bad note. I used to laugh too…
until I got the notes on the subject, and learned,
this isn’t a punchline, but instead hits a girl like
a gut punch. The red dragon that cramps up in
its cave, where swinging at her mood swings
doesn’t make you brave.

She’s in the tide of her red-letter week — a storm
swelling beneath soft skin. Appetite shifts, touches
itch instead of soothe, and even thoughts lose their
rhythm, like radio static in a room full of noise.
And sometimes it's hard to think straight when
your own body is pulling sideways.

And those bloated comments... they don’t ease anything.
It’s a different pain for every woman, but one shared
thread: that you don’t get to add to it. As we may not
understand the full weight — but we can choose not
to pile more on.

And if you’re thinking of making a joke about it…
don’t. Period!

My floors are drenched in crimson, wine cascading
like unsolicited wisdom, a testament to my attempts at maturity,
Hoping it seeps into people’s gaze. Yet, to their astonishment,
I revel only in the celebration of my own existence.
Fragments of my being are enamoured with self-love,
serving myself a lavish feast of introspection.

In my unconventional revelries, I find my heart eager to
drift apart, tethered to someone who thrives far from the
clutches of shame. As you dwell in the dreamscape you've
crafted- a vivid mural of your own utopia; I firstly succumb
to tears on my pillow, muffling all the echoes of my anguish.

My floors remain a vivid red; every moment of pretence
fades into oblivion, yet the pain lingers. Time hangs heavy on
my wrist, each second bleeding away, striving to meet an
acceptable standard. My fears and anxieties rise with the sun's
glow, while many struggle to confront their own truths,
choosing instead to bury them deep.

My floors are undeniably red; beneath the veil of existence,
amidst the tumult of conflict—can you hear the whispers of
those desperately clinging to life, do their floors cry in
red too?

Roses are red, the ones that won't grow by my heart,
they evoke a sense of longing and unfulfilled desires.
Delicate petals, once vibrant and full of life, now lay dormant,
mirroring the dormant feelings within. All a bittersweet
reminder that emotions, like flowers, have a finite lifespan.

I'm tending my blue, in the violence of my eyes,
as turbulent as the crashing waves on a stormy night.
The storm brewing within me has fueled a relentless pursuit of
dreams, propelling me forward despite the obstacles that stand
in my way.

With determination and resilience, I push forward,
believing that the next turn of the century will bring
new beginnings and endless possibilities.

I had a tenfold of wishful thinking, my mind
consumed by thoughts of what could be.
Each night, I found myself wondering if my prayers had
reached the celestial gardens of Heaven, where they might be
nurtured and grow into reality. It was a hopeful plea, a desperate
attempt to manifest my deepest desires and find solace
in the belief that someone or something was listening.

In my quest for fulfillment, I planted a piece of gold in
the grounds of time, a symbol of optimism and abundance.
It represented not just material wealth, but also the invaluable treasures of love, happiness, and purpose. I yearned for a worthwhile time to be alive, where every moment was infused with meaning and each day held the promise of fulfillment.

Red Roses,
Thoughts of many thorns.
Loss of focus,
From the stinging. Dearly it burns.

Valley's bed,
Filled out of my Heart with only red.
Fallen Hearts and roses in Winter's breath, down on the ground to shed.
No life is spared.

Spare the bore
From the ongoing gore,
Of a plant being as is from once a spore.

Red Roses of a field,
Thorns of Heart not keen to yield.
This Valley feels like a battlefield.

Battling the Sun's scorching heat,
We few can not retreat.
I fall so **** weak,
Barely can speak.

Oooooh

Red Roses I fail to say
Of a common smell in the air of decay.
Losing another Heart each and every single day.
Cold winters of an early May.

A throne of the dark roses, with thorns of blood that mercilessly pierced her fragile heart. She now sits upon the shattered remains of what was once love, consumed by an overwhelming feeling of pain and betrayal.
It is as if love itself has transformed into a crown of thorns, constantly piercing her mind with thoughts of those she once held dear.

The agony she endures can only be compared to the torment of a devil dressed in red, yet her sorrow runs even deeper, cloaked in the blackness of the night.

It is like she is haunted by whispers of death that fill the air, like a mournful lullaby whispered into the ear of her past lovers. Every step she takes weighs heavy upon those who have passed, as though her footfalls are a solemn procession towards a coffin.

And in that very place where you last found solace, your head resting peacefully, it now becomes the site of your final farewell, a place where love has bled out its last drop of comfort.

Your face blush is like red tomatoes
that look almost pink; you give out this
warm kind of smile, that blankets me by surprise
beneath the second nature of your silver eyes
the words of affirmations you give me, grants
me tears, and gives me so much poetry to write

Holding time to each other in these aging hands
let’s build a blue house to hide away our blues-
bites of the sound of love to your ears pricked
behind my eyes pictured window; I can still see
through your body’s frame- with those tired eyes
that once bought into dreams, I’ll sell you the rest

Let the enhancement of those weights give a better
feeling to your life, as salt over your horizon’s shoulder,
wait, as we wait to get much older- the days must get older
for our hearts to both to feel much warmer. Those tomatoes
will still remain so red, to their well appearance- you’ve
kept me well fed.

Surely that often enough you look that fine
Aged on the Beauty and taste of your Love
Lips tasting on you of such fine Red Wine.

A glass for my troubles just to dull them off
Darling be the last of the strong grape essence that will grip my throat.
Darling Red Wine of mine of much worth.

For on this night O' Love of mine
Your heart turns the twirls of my mind till it spins out of my control.

For a piece of your Love has paid off my feelings for you by a dime.
For I'll search so deeply inside my soul,
To finding reason to grow old of your taste.

But you'd never go to my tongue's memory to spoil.

Stirring my heart, stirring through me, piercing my heart right through.
Sticking to me that close that we're probably one.
And surely I'm not taking all this just as childish fun.
For I take to your taste that seriously enough that I never grow tired of you.

My sweet, sweet, Red Wine,
O' How often do I see you so fine.
For my Heart is awed to the knowing of you being Mine.

O' my Red Wine.

There’s a girl who mirrors my every move—
   it makes me afraid of my own reflection.
And if I’m biting time,
  then please— serve me a couple seconds.
I should’ve loved you better, much earlier…
  so I’ll be with you in a second.

Let me shield my eyes— watching you put
on your armour, decorating your smile,
 you’re a mouthful of colour.
A love picked from the bunch,
  too rare not to treat like a flower.
First as a friend, protective as kin—
even when your salty remarks
 mistake pamper for pepper.
Your attraction? In mint condition—
     a treat like a peppermint.

My skin’s a little tinted, my cries tilt
a little sideways— these long-*** messages
   just to keep you from trailing behind.
Smiling beside you, you give me food
  for thought, and a kind word on the side.

It’s hard to find the genuinely kind.
      But you?
You’re a rare kind— the kind I’d hold
on to, if only I knew how.

We appear to love as captives, shackled by the relentless whispers
of our hearts. The places we seek solace may very well be our final
resting spots; our beds could transform into our tombs. We exist
only as long as He allows, wrapped in blessings and gifts, while
you continue to frolic in this world, surrendering yourself to
become its plaything.

And still, you laugh—gasping for air, straying down a treacherous
path, while within, you weep silently; suffocating as you struggle
for breath… a twisted obsession of despaired wet dreams.

Tell me, in our yearning for mercy, why does it elude us –
for the mercy we long for, why doesn’t our own exist?

To worship life, sadly means  learning how to laugh at your
worth. You present yourself as a lump of sugar, yet your
thoughts are like a lump of coal, consuming you as you stare
into the glow of your phone…

                                        Ah, I pen these lines for my own reflection.

Tears streamed down his face
as he stood before the mirror,
as if it was the only moment he could
genuinely catch a glimpse of his true self.

You may not see the final destination—
but every step, every fall, is part
of something forming. The direction
you're heading will always be patient.
Even when you feel sick from believing
you're stagnant, you are still shifting.
Still becoming.

Don’t worry! The silence has its own
voice. And the waiting has meaning,
even when it feels so cruel. In time—
it will all make sense.

The past you came from will become
a mirror. And your future self will look
into it and see how far you’ve really come.

Under these words – under pressure;
a reflective gaze cast on restless skies, days
becoming mirrors to us all — shining back
fragments we try to ignore.

Thoughts over water, drowning away in
myself — no lifeboat in sight, just ripples
of casual doubts, and this casual self that suits
the occasion of standing on business — as if
duty could silence the tide within.

Later rehearsals play out in the theatre of trials —
where life keeps testing, and those falling in love
in public become gossip in the rain.
Soft, but heard. Brief, but echoing.

Give us a little space; space exists to be used —
lest we start to feel abused by presence that
doesn’t pause to respect the silence.

There’s always a clue to finding yourself —
often tucked inside those who build you up,
brick by spoken brick — sticking to your side,
a friendship made of genuine glue.

And its occupants; are the ones who don’t
overstay their worth, who know how to shape
time into a home away from home.
Not permanent, but warm. Not perfect, but safe.

To share tears like rivers drawing in and from
one another —currents of grief and grace,
there are gifts in that flow. So appreciate those
in your life who’ve been so current —both
present and moving, flowing with you instead
of watching you sink.

At sake; we are lost and distant from home
In after the smoke, the rising ash of turmoil
Who really wins on both sides of the war
Only the dead live to see victory
Victim to bloodshed—they no longer see it's misery
But leave their loved ones in misery

To watchmen; on luxurious high wall
Must they see of evils, but ignore them all
Who really wins on both sides of the war
A ruler to deem an enemy
But as of their people—forced to call neighbour enemy

Profoundly, I honestly  should be flipping through the pages of The Bible.
But I think I've been the good Christian today.
Oh wow, I'm in such denial.

My religious beliefs were something I learnt inside a building on a particular Day.
What was constantly burned into my mind was, "Jesus is the Truth, light and The Way"

So what is my way to success without the shortcut through life
Told that the future is praying now in the present for my future wife.

But I'm trying my best to find some strength to remain in prayer
But my world is burning down in front of my eyes
Our misdeeds and evil actions the flames layer.

See I belief in a Lord but I hate how I can't stay that long on the belief
For it was hardest for me to accept an invisible entity to help being my relief.

My religious beliefs sometimes clouds my judgement
And through storms of life I find it that hard to sing out to Him the loudest.

For sometimes it's like you left me in alone the wake
Adding to the fact the world tries to prove you real or fake?

We haven't met in person, so if I die don't disappoint me in death
For I'm pulling out on my Faith by a slim stretch.

Now everything feels like a mile
From a long way before seeing Christians hiding themselves behind a Sunday smile.

But are we still on that course we've travelled
Acting though we have all things in check but we won't like the day it comes to be unravelled.

I'd hate to be part of the bunch
But as the days are growing with me and time, it feels to be coming that such.

Would those with such strong religious beliefs look at the broken Christian the same
Or would such people spit rivers every time they'll speak his name.

For see my religious beliefs don't see me out when I fall to ground
When I say something out of the stereotype Christianity spectrum, I'm then kicked out of the crowd.

When the idea I've brought out is not making me feel that proud.

Now brought out of me is this youthful pride.
That large ego of a man I tried my best to hide.
Questioning between being ungrateful or thinking it's all me with the Lord behind.

Really I should pray a little more often
But I feel like chocking on the idea when saying the first words and it's all but coughing.

For when I want to ask the Lord for something I feel like acting so greedy.
Hey Lord how about a couple dollars for the hectic day. Don't see me acting so needy.

Such religious beliefs, thinking good deeds will get you an express pass into Heaven
But even thieves repenting on their last misdeeds will meet me there as my Brethren.

Perhaps the way to break free being caught in between the battles is breaking free from the Christian stereotype
For I'd rather try to be real to myself and people all around. Not hiding behind the hype.

I just want to live my life like I'm living out on worth.
To believe I'm not the waste of space in the world nor the waste of time from the first seconds from my birth.

For if I leave the earth in a moment where will I go
Though I'm told Heaven awaits me how do I truly know.

All I know is, holding onto this faith as all to hold,
To one day die on an age of very old
Making it to Heaven Gates in the Awe and wonder of it's Behold.

Speaking from my Religious Beliefs.

All the set remainders; the remains
of ourselves left on our skins
Nothing was in vein, being under your skin,
and these less than said words, then after
Caught in the wings of butterflies in our stomachs;
as I was tickled by the beauty of it, filled with laughter

I feel out of time, out of my mind
with you out of my sight
In the glimpse of so many hers, how I'm
pointlessly looking for pieces of you in such a plight
As I remember all of the times, I was stuck in your eyes,
to the rise of that ******; I had nothing to say
But my breathless gaze spoke in bold, and you gentle
hand resting on my chest was a simple enough reply

Tucked away in an embracing, your bracing touch
wrapped around my heart- I kissed your shoulder;
To ease the weight you had to carry of my insecurity,
purely out of a form, of me not wanting to conform

Why your ******* were hard before
towards such a softie like me,
Aroused my curiosity, in it's mischievous means;
and a hug where I misheard your wish after you bit me ear
I found it the only excuse to hold onto a past behind,
grabbing onto your rear- a tight squeeze!

My pants felt tightened inch by inch growing
and stuck to the fabric of my Levy jeans
A stain I know I'd be cleaning for days,
by all means; I meant not distract you by this
quick response in my genes-

I haven't been touched the same,
but being felt by others who I barely get to recall a name
To put a face to all of the kisses I have left to give,
I can't face the truth of imagining your taste on their lips
Cold kisses of a Lip ice kind of kiss, still not the same as
yours, but I still often wish

                                      ...sigh, I won't even end this
                                        as it reminds me of how everything ends.

rental cars – parked away ideals across the street; had a bite of the
sweetest dream, but must have chipped a few teeth. backwash waters;
just a taste of love – most of it stayed in the bottle, still I enjoyed that
little sip.

rental cars – parked a little too close to the darkness, under a
billboard sign that gave directions to the light. by day I’m all that the
world’s eyes believe of me; the genius of one’s destiny only revealed
by prayers late at night. but maybe I’m preying more than praying –
believing in all the wrong, hoping to come up with something right.

rental cars – sometimes I feel like I’m on this journey of life with so
many borrowed things, paid for dreams, passenger fears – sticky
gears, imbalanced wheels, a rusty engine, and an unfair lease
agreement, that I pray will expire long before the next few years.

Reoccurrence; oh do I deserve it's again? Of love,
of time, of hope, of faith, of promise, and the beauties
of my yesterdays...

Reoccurrence; oh do I deserve it's again? Of grace,
of joy, of peace, of forgiveness, and the dreams of
my former slumbers...

Reoccurrence; oh do I deserve it's again? Of you,
of when we once loved, of our youth, and the desire
of a forever...

Of us; in the seasons of summer. The warmth of knowing
your bright smile. Of the spring; in the skips of steps towards
a future.

Do any of which; ever reoccur as like memories... Or are we
just moments; soon to be forgotten..

Will I reoccur in those memories...

A seed is buried in the manhole
pebbles of time to chuck at the glass screen of life;
the genuine stone in your hand- consistent is its determination
Dreams lost in the dusty drawer
a mind’s past tortures, alongside the crawling pieces
of blood clot envy under my skin- towards a love so in vain
These are the ancient wounds
jumping into conclusions; through the escaping hurdles
In place of the ghouls, the faces that flow through feeding corpses

Night falls, into a dreamer’s eyes
unlocking a world full of possibilities- insignificant fingers
trying to count up optimism misplaced in the gory wings of lips  
Fly away from your comments
comets fall in a beautiful destruction, to perish dry and blow
out the picture of a star- drinking wine at a sunrise; drunk on life

More so, more or less when
the consistent soil grows us bread to feed buttered-up charms
as lovers spread out their love to the distaste of a jealous bunch
Don’t open, that love jar
letting out that sickening hint of spark- once you open that door
it will close you in defeat; from head to sole jumping in heartache’s
repeat…

I often feel mistaken to the fact that I could be doing wrong a thousand times,
Simply because the fact I could be telling a thousand more lies.
Well truthfully speaking it felt so easy to get lost in something wrong,
Numbing myself in what my spirit tells me not to do.  Yet still doing it for so very long.

So anyway I woke up today pretty much same as I always have and sometimes will.
Though, shouldn't I be waking up to find new ways to put my troubles to rest and not let them  roam free to ****.

Troubled by so many many things.
What does my own future hold for me. Memories of how many times I've fallen in love yet they were all just so many flings.

But not the love for a living being,  rather the living desires of a lustful heart.
Obsessed with how their sweet taste breaks me and rips my spirit right apart.

Just a ticking time bomb, that I desperately need the codes to defuse.
If I could go back in time to guide my former self,  I would teach  you how to refuse.
But it's best not to live in such a distant different past, for I find hope in this today's counting.
Though I may have lost track of my own plot, I just simply need rerouting.

So reroute my mind,
So I may become to myself a much better kind.

In the backhand of a cigarette,
every smoke rising is another regret
Getting lost in screaming screens on the internet,
trying to find yourself in the comments of a thread
Flightless birds on a twitter thread; sorry an X,
exactly how I feel; crossed out from another trend
I must of been late, stuck in the holes of my head;- a hairnet,
as all I really need for myself, is a forced reset

Sleep always feels owed; one’s life
cannot be fully owned –
As we look for this complete rest, do you
rest your weariness on those you trust;

For even as sleep is the cousin of death;
would you still deny yourself true rest?

And do you deny the comfort of advice
from a true friend –
Or do you sleep on their words, under
the covers of your pride?

Hope swerving; bending my thoughts of life
in it's curving lane. A game of gain, that not everybody
wants to play. Escaping from the day, or days; looking
for change in these ancestral chains. These are the shackles, keeping me in constant battle. Wearing my weight as a satchel; I constantly have to dismantle myself; to reach the top of successes great mantle.

Life's a rattle; shaking you at the core. Follow it's lore; and
be careful not break all of it's many laws. You'll get so many scars, and sores. Opening moments, opening and closing doors;
as you constantly walk along on life's floors with your flaws.
Happy moments galore; but also the saddest ones creeping up
on the low.

You'll cry to the Lord of it all; His lifting spirit keeps you up
when the soul falls. He's a calming voice to all of His children
he calls. You'll be in awe, letting Him guide you to where you
need to go. A lot of what he does you can't ignore. "Be patient
child; there's a lot in store. Blessed are the poor."

There's no valley too deep, or it's mountains to tall. But life
has it's many walls; we all have to face. Cracking knuckles
a couple times, till that wall breaks. It's not a mistake, or a
place to misplace how far you've come from that starting place.
Whether from the maybe, or maybe not; of the choices you've made. We've each got our choices to make.

Love grips the crowd like a glove. Some that are fed sweet nothings, while others starve. All the lights of these stars; like rushing traffic in space. Rushing like cars in a chase. Love feels like a rush of a race; trying to keep those emotions going straight in it's lane. Wild hearts trying to keep tame, with their hormones often the one's to blame. "Such a shame."

It's the rush of love; but is it enough to love someone more than you can give? To live only on the feelings love gives; wanting all
that's out there, but refusing to give in. Giving it at your best;
but ask a lover about their ex. They'd say, "my current is the best from the rest." What can you expect; of a lover's treasured love buried deep down in their chest?

An itch at the neck; nerves telling me to double check at my deck. Just in case my next play has me going, "what the heck!"

What's my next calling card in this play game of gain? Seems I'm
back at it's start once again.

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

Too much pain in this empty misery
Too many snakes in the grassy yard. Really what's killing me.

Riot in the heart, it's going crazy down in the there
Riot, Riot, Riot, Riot
Control, Control, Control, Control, this could be the greatest pain I swear.

The wind is too strong, blowing my soul away
The cold nights feel too dark, when will come the other day.
Help me, help me, would the helped lend their hand to the help
Why smiles of so many people stink too well like old kelp.
This couldn't be the apocalypse but the  attitudes make it too soon
Just don't cry darling when you lose sight of a sun by early noon.

Start a riot, the heart of a oppressed disturbed the peace
Call the guards and chiefs we take your shots and pray you miss.
Hands in the air not for my surrender to you but to the King
Killed me now wouldn't really matter, going up to Heaven by Angel's Wings.

Hate me now, your hateful words could never fill my plate
I may be down and ***** but never take it as my only state.
Don't call me the beast to this game that's the name of the evil one
Don't speak his name in praise, his deeds be the ones of killing Nuns.

Riot, someone calm this storm in it's space
Lord we would need much peace in your arms. Give us your warm embrace  

Help us Dear Lord.

Wisp whisperings, tedious tensions,
all we face at a favour of an unfair life.
Summarised summonings, handful happenings,
to do all that is—not out of a place of strife.

Anxious agony, despairing delusions,
pains I can't always paint out in words.
Powerless poverty, penniless pockets,
let not status of the world; dictate self worth.

Joyful joinings, delightful decisions,
happiness isn't a given—still can't be lived without.
Humorous humans, creative creations,
all with a smile; moments are short. Make them count.

For into the night, the day will always rise—a dawn out
of the longest dusk. Like an Eve to it's Adam; the beauty
of their first fruits—seeds are to grow up touching the sky.
Do not threat dear child; the Heavens remain at the
highest,—above the hells of life.

It's time to RISE!

He is risen,
stone rolled away from tomb
He is risen,
death no had longer it's rule
He is risen,
above it all, above the doom

The Lord Jesus is risen.

Greeted by your thighs,
lost space inside your eyes, while that feeling comes to rise.

And I know I've told you lies,
so making it up to you sooner is pretty wise, while that feeling comes to rise.

And I want you tonight as my prize, while that feeling comes to rise.
Quite a distance for a ****** drive.

Rising within me, stirring me to no good,
questioning to bite, probably should.
But you'd join the feeling if you were in the mood,
simply because my body language is quite loud and easily understood.

To be how it may,
sweat dripping of the flesh, wetter than the waters across the bay.
It's probably an overcast today.

And this feeling ain't complete,
two foreign bodies coming together to meet.
Two feelings coming into one, and then they'll repeat,
having your thighs to greet,
upon the arrival of your meal within this meat.

While that feeling comes to rise,
not being chased, and none to despise.
Like the feeling of being so close to one, failing to say your goodbyes.

Such of that feeling comes to rise.

Bleeding tips, and fallen tears
sinking into the soil
All of those who've fallen
those shattered and bruised
The unusual bunch of us
crying underneath tears of a night moon
Sad, and bleeding in our pains.

A lit fuse is my depression
ready to explode
Still no one can ever behold such an event,
instead I only implode.

Why does it feel like I'm dying inside,
slowly breaking down into a trillion pieces
Lost in the deep thought of questioning my existence,
Too many voices in my head tell me if I die now
not a lot would miss us.

Shut up,
stopping screaming in my head
I can barely hear myself breathing,
with so many voices in my head forcing in
a give in, I might give out.

Such loud voices always put me on the wrong side,
Giving their petition to have me at the place of suicide.

Shut up,
I'm not forced into listening
you're too loud, and unjust to any of my cause
I cover my ears, trying my best to resist those loud whispers.

Slowly telling me I'm worth nothing,
I've never brought anything to the table
All these voices running horse trials in my head,
need to find their place and be stable.

For if I keep listening to them,
I give them a better chance of winning
The grand scheme of it all is they only
want my downfall.
Still even when I fall, I'm not always going to be down.

I'll rise soon enough
for soon enough I'll prevail over the voices.

Shut them out,
and let the echoes dissappear.
Rising above the voices,
above they ones trying to bring me down.

Rising over chaotic voices.

Pretty are eyes;
tickled by the midnight
Lost in the space of time;
to those who gaze into them.

As with a shadow;
that lurks behind innocence
A grey cloud of smoke;
in a set fire of one's risqué.


                       Seems the night let's;
               the light of you come out.

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.

You bestow upon me kisses
infused with the essence of cinnamon,
I inquire if it is the cause of my speechlessness.
Your skin, so tender to my gaze,
possesses a delicate vulnerability that
a mere nibble could easily mark.
My profound musings, consumed by thoughts of you,
cut through the depths of my being.

In my dreams, I envision you,
with my heart suspended within yours.
The untainted purity is forever tainted
by the fiery crimson allure of your lips.
The taste of you engulfs me, leaving me breathless,
while a tantalizing sensation tightens within my trousers.

In the depths of my longing, your essence
becomes a captivating remedy for the
affliction that plagues my heart.
Your gentle curves, like a sanctuary,
provide solace for my restless mind throughout the day.

As the night unfolds, it becomes a canvas
for passionate yearning, and the delicate touch
of your intimate embrace ignites a fire within me.
The sovereignty of your femininity reigns supreme,
overwhelming me with a blissful deluge in
the paradise that is your embrace.

You've transformed into an unexpected surge of vitality,
electrifying every essential part of me.
Your movements effortlessly guide me into
the perfect state of mind, as if you possess the secret
to unlocking my deepest desires.
Your neck, delicately scented like an unfurled flower,
invites my eager kisses, as I chase after the intoxicating
allure you exude.

The spring-like cascade of your hair embodies the essence
of a scorching and restless summer, and I eagerly await its Fall.
Allow my breath to simmer, as I reach my natural
boiling point, stirred by the intensity of my emotions.
And together, let us embrace a passion that surpasses
even the fiery glow of the red light illuminating our room.

The air escapes me—

As darkness envelops the night,
I shut my eyes, haunted by
The vision
Of ropes
Swaying from the ceiling
      Above.

With each glance,
A constriction
Tightens
Around my throat, a
Chilling
Reminder of
despair.

As some things/people are so beautiful
to behold. Perhaps at a necessary distance,
for their thorns makes it hard to hold.

Beauty:
of an eye has been intriguing,
As like a Rose:
in the artistry of all searching the hidden
meaning.

A gaze: to be glazed for me to blink,
sweetest red to sour cheeks,
Seeing into something so unique.

Yet try to pick out,
passion; it's then lost from heart,
I seem unable to love you without.

Truly I'm not as one willing,
like many love sicken fools:
To fall in love so easily.

Thorns are then to ***** my heart,
I'll shout and call for you,
Yet love won't hear me out.

So enough now said;
I may instead, rest on her {rose's bed.}
For as the sweetest of life;
still follows the saddest of deaths.

Beauty is and has will to be intriguing
of course for many of us, we do question the idea.
Men who search through the fields of true meaning.

Was love not to be like a rose
a pretty sweetness of nature in a field of many
So many pretty flowers for a hand, I'd like to suppose.
I never like to oppose, looking at the faces I see as a pretty rose.

A woman's true beauty could possibly leave us forgetting how to think
One look can't be enough. We've looked at your beauty more than once or twice
Surely now I may have forgotten how to blink.

We've picked you a few many times in our hearts,
these hearts are strangely picking at you ever more.
But if we do fall in love so easily, pray we're not only guided by a heart
It's so easy to fall, but much easier to make someone else fall apart.

You guard yourself, for really you wouldn't want to be hurt
Some may underestimate you, but you shouldn't count on them to count out your worth.

You're in a great valley of your own,
and like it's roses, you make guard of your heart by the sharpness of your thorns.

Roses in a valley will often be picked by many who seek for beauty,
still as many will come, only the right one will ever love you truly
So never let one ask you for an advance in love if their only return is with cruelty.

Usually I don't speak highly enough
so I highly speak of what always needs to be said.
No love is highly acclaimed like the one of a woman's love.

You've weathered storms of what the world could rein upon you, but you're still standing strong as you grow.
What is your strength makes you for you, we all should see such in those petals that show.

Don't place your heart out just for someone's lonesome stealing
Let the beauty of you strike the eye, then only when he has understood it for all it is, will that be the day your heart is out for his receiving.

It's a bunch of you that the world has placed in a corner
but it's grown over to a valley.
We should learn wisely to care kindly for you
for a man is the head of the house, but a woman makes what is the heart of that family.

So for these roses of the valley,
shall the Lord add on endless worth to your value.
Though you drive us crazy sometimes, we should learn to love you madly.

Love, how unique you seem to be to me.  O' a strange feeling.
How I had a net full of butterflies in my stomach all tied in knots.  So many hearts out there for one brave for the stealing.

O'the the sweet roses of worth in this valley,
with your scent as so sweet and devine.  How would I find you in an alley.
You've surely pricked my heart as I bled towards your beauty.  Do I yet dare to take another chance.
Though I've fallen to my feet trying so to step along but I preferred not to dance.

Your beauty will always leave me intriguing,
still I fall so hard at beauty's first sight. Yet why this happens has found no meaning.

Though so many roses as just,
beauty on their faces catching my eye from poses as such.

But O'rose, how you've caught me again in your trap. Could loving you be as simple.
You've driven me close to a point of lost insanity, your beauty glares as a crystal.
Yet I feel, I  would be dared to steal you from your heart,
But alas, greatest be my fears of being bruised and cut.

Still O'rose, you be so plenty with a unique scent.
If I waited long enough for you, will I be led to regret.

Crying is beauty,
I'm shed into pieces with a head full of thorns
Exposed and torn,
tears of my heart bleed red like a Rose.

From the concrete,
paved in the ways of forefathers
A Rose in the cement. Unlike them, I'm not one belonging to the street.

My tears have shed,
hands blistered and red
I held a thorn in my empty palm,
hoping it still hurts
And as the Rose and I were bleeding,
we both realized our worth.

So we cried, watering down the Earth,
the same home we've known
The home that raised us from the dirt.

I cried for what felt like
forever. Till forever was long gone
But it wasn't a tear from my eyes,
I truly just lost a petal

Sigh.

Force me to bed, but I don't want to fall asleep tonight.
Soaked my pillow in tears from a couple days ago.
Living through the high points of my life, but only on the low.

But I don't want to close my eyes for a second more while that empty darkness gives me a fright.
I don't want my mind to run away from the nightmares in my head, neither helping me to rest.

I'm wearing rubber clothes tonight in linen sheets. Forgive me for being a little depressed.

Forced into this worthlessness, but I would not stay there on a rich heart.
Drowing in blood, how my high blood pressure is going to prey on me tonight.

I'll pray for something warm for me to wear, but so sorry I only have these rubber clothes. Carrying the dirt of black mud.

I got a few rubber clothes, a few pieces of plastic to sew into my smile.
A few pieces of man that they wishing to take back.
A few pieces of doubt, and pieces of flesh to feed my bones along in the mile.

A rubby heart, plastic choking me from inside.
I'm wearing these rubber clothes cause I don't have anything much to hide.

Rusty finger nails pierced into the
walls of scratching the night
There's an ear hole of your own accord
bleeding over your hearing of that pain-
Waiting at the back of your dreams; you
probably lived your whole life in a taxi
You've been overdue for love,- their really
owe you taxes; as your face held a field of
all your tears, to water the after pastures

You shrank away grasping onto old figures
of yourself- you had a crush for someone for that
long, that they crushed you under their thumb,
and from those skins is where you bled

            "We can only be friends,"
                                                they said