Call in the cavaliers to chase me down for all the wrongs I've done,
Call in the cavaliers for this battle is still not won.
Tell them all I've tried to fix the things that aren't mine,
Tell them I tried to do things that aren't mine,
Tell them that I've wasted too much time

Call in the cavaliers for I've mistaken little for all,
trying to steal the riches left out for the poor,
Pushing down the enemies trying to make the weak fall.
Call in the cavaliers for they know what to do,
The things that must be done to fix it all,
the things I broke that need to be made brand new.

Call in the cavaliers to make my amends with those I hurt,
for those I had dumped my pains, set fires to have their hearts left burnt.
Call in the cavaliers to show me how to start it all again,
To fix my heart, to heal my soul,
to face this days, fix it all and to know when.

I need the cavaliers for they know my mistakes and what must be done,
To fix and mend it all to what it once was,
To finish the good fight for this battle is won.

The end of the line, is in this rhyme!

Hello to those of you listening,
recording all your thoughts.
Quick to answer the call before it's ringing.

Been caught up in between the wires,
haven't chatted with my inner child in a while.
The conversation at times, is caught up
in between the lines.
I laugh about it like it's all but fine. Wait, someone else is ringing up my line.

Depression, so nice of you to call,
thanks for reminding me why I feel so alone.
But I'm going to have to put you on hold.
You're happy to leave a message, straight after the tone.
And I'll be glad to leave it on ignore.

I don't live on people's area codes,
grew up so different from my two older bros.
My route in life has too many crossroads.
As a kid, I was never short a moment
of being weird.
Those cringy moments still haven't been cleared.

Speaking about the kids,

Searching for love, but she tries to test you.
Expecting too much from you, but won't double text you.
Testing my texting,
wasting my reproductive times too busy sexting.
I only know love for the worst expectations, and those hidden intentions.

Not to mention,
we're too busy overspending.
For a love that never replies your message.

Tell me if that's not depressing?

Anyways Mr Operator,
the problems of my mind sound too much like a dictator.
Tell them to call now, but I'll answer them later.

It's about that time,
I cut this call by the end of the line!

Cherry bumps, bumping to you in the preceding
of your body's prequel. You're looking like a sequel,
I just want to see you in that see through.

Let me hit it till I quit, quit it till I miss it.
I know it's been a minute in the warmth of your body
and long socks. Advances of awkward romances is all I got.
Could I be the key to your secret lock, walking through your
door after a long tongue knock?

Knock, knock, knock,
to taste the sound of love, the pleasing ears of raining
down drizzles of when you come—around this time
when I'm done. Could I be your night's desirable secret?
I'm quite good at keeping secrets; fulfilling pleasures in
your imaginative wishes.

Okay maybe that's just wishful thinking; sinking in
the loves of night—your love is what I'm seeking.
You're what I'm missing, to be hopefully kissing you
the next time we're meeting.

Ring, ring, ring,
please put on your tone, call for my company anytime
you feel alone. The distance seems far, but close to my
heart when your embrace is my home. Living in the
moment—capture it all in my focus. Who needs a bed of roses;
you're already my pretty flower I'm holding onto the closest.

                              Just pick up the phone my love.

I'm a basket case,
with nothing more to eat, but just the chip on my shoulder
I feared never making it close to twenty one,
to now my biggest fear of getting anymore older
I live on borrowed time,
asking the many second favours from the clock on the wall
And to have myself to chin up,
counting all the hairs on it; feeling insecure when I count them all.

I'm no role model,
but know the act of a fool, smiling through their pain
At the awkward age,
of not being young or old enough to fit in adulthood's frame
But through the window of my eyes
you see I'm made of glass through hurt of my window pane
I had a brush with death,
but quickly swept the fear of dying under the rug of tomorrow
As if I live for all of today,
yesterday's always feel much simpler, knowing what to follow

I'm no leader,
when I feel battered on my social battery made out of led
I'm a foe to myself,
overthinking most times, as anxiety tends to be a friend.
I'm a double entendre,
humorous as an awkward smile much brighter in the dark
I'm an oxymoron,
double checking every meaning to anything closest to my heart

              I'm a calm demeanor, with a messy mind,
                 tidying my words before speaking something foul
                       at most, more of a human's human inside
                             born of the birds and the bees,
                          flying high in my dreams, as my mind is fowl.

I wish a dream was easy to buy into
like a cancer stick;— dying for a piece.
Inhaling vapors, and blowing off
smoke in a puff of dreams.

Life is like a cigarette; an addiction
to living with feelings of regret.
Time is all ashes, slowly deducting
your frame till death,
And love consumes the lungs;
too much of the wrong kind,—becomes toxic.
To advertise the biggest buyers of such dreams
for a rich life like a **** cigarette;
To be honest with the kind of addiction,
being rich appears costly.

But I guess if I'm an old truck blowing
smoke, it just means I'm exhausted.
Addicted to the cigarette life,
whether tip toeing, or running towards death,
either side, do play it cautious.
Cos whatever end you smoke the cigarette,
all roads lead to death.

I'm just a humble beggar, with nothing but
this old beggar's song resonating in my soul.
It may seem like there's something wrong with me,
but appearances can be deceiving. Deep down,
I'm content with who I am and the life I lead.

Just like a flickering candle, I find myself blowing away time,
as if trying to defy its relentless passage.
The hours slip through my fingers like grains of sand,
yet I embrace each moment with a sense of acceptance.
I don't long for death to take me away, for in doing so,
the whole world would descend into darkness,
robbing others of the light that I bring.

Though my circumstances may be humble, I find solace
in the fact that my voice can still touch hearts and minds.
With each note I sing, I seek to bring a glimmer of hope
and beauty to a world that can often be cold and unforgiving.

Just as a beggar's song tells a story of struggle and resilience,
my existence too has meaning and purpose.
I continue to embrace my role as a humble candle,
spreading warmth and illumination in a world that is in constant need of both.

Let me down once again, burying me in disappointment;
a heavy burden, burying me deep within its grasp. A grim demise, but the truth is, I have experienced this feeling of lifelessness before. Scream at my face, as if I don’t listen enough,—following around like a personal slave to people. **** in my face when you’re ******* at me. Tie your opinions of me, as I have these knots on my tongue.

     Treat me as nothing more than a worthless *******, just
to cover yourself with a new sheet. Blame me for all of the mistakes, as I misplace my happiness and put on this fake smile on my face. Cast a shadow over my days, letting me catch a glimpse of your true colors in the absence of light.

     Call me, “*****,” and “little ****;” I doubt any of those words
will hurt as much as they did before. Break your tongue on
trying to say things that will break my spirit. You all already
tried to break me before; you won’t break me anymore.

To all the boys, we're going out for a night,
Toss a coin to say we're just chasing tail tonight
But we always have to keep a heads up, for when
You probably get denied by a dime, twice this night

As we’re drinking like it's the end of a movie scene-
Waiting for our eyes to fall to black, we could barely see

Unfortunately, I caught my teeth in the skin of heat,
And I tell you- it wasn't that wise to try and dance;
Hoping to give all my intentions to her eyes chance-
But by a glance, I seen all her friends having a good
Laugh behind my back, all because of my two left feet

Lose my thoughts,
things of which I don't have
But try to be glad,
though life gives me reasons to be sad.
For the secrets I've bought,
many I keep haven't been spoke
And for the dues I've paid,
the end of day has me feeling broke.

This isn't a mood,
or even close to being an emotion
Neither of which is good,
a fragile case to be held with caution
I need someone to hold,
not down but up above my sadness
You can't decide all your feelings,
explaining is hard to those who don't understand
Comforting is harder,
to those who haven't felt such as well.

If I found the time,
I'd use it to encourage myself
If I found the time,
I doubt I'd be willing to give any back
If I found the time,
I'd do more things than relax
But with the time I have,
I have but a moment to do better with a chance.  

So to speak,
you can rebuild yourself from just a piece
Find the peace,
be one to cut away troubles than to slit a wrist.

Do feel my suicide,
but won't feel a reason for me to die.

I feel lucid as my lost dreams, loosely as could be,
To act upon my wicked heart's desire as Lucifer could have
been, and if that's just human, Lucifers all are we.
I've been mostly running out of time, with not much seconds
to count. And I don't blame the company of family wanting to
keep me out,—I don't blame you, I'd want to kick myself
out of my house. I should do better, but I don't seem to match
the words of people's expectations; never really lived on the
letter. But I sometimes hope in a next lifetime I could be clever.
        A lesser of a lessor, but I don't have much of a heart to rent
                                ...out, or let anyone I know to reflect my love.
The pro's and con's of loving me, a con of a man who only really shows the truth in his prose. Mixing the art with the inspiration
of rap; all of which are the stories that pass, and a gift towards a
movie picture of the present. I guess that's a wrap.

By the hopes of a double entendre, I hope I could double out
my life facts. Maybe if I could dream a life of living out my
best fictions, I could be justified to give a god thanks.
Masking my pride with the smiles I pull out of my pocket,
while trying to live a life on time I had to borrow.
But even if you swallow the seed of a man, you still
couldn't birth his much-needed humbleness.
                             ..."I guess pride is much harder to swallow."

And like an addiction of the pills I had, the truth of
my own addictions are all so hard to swallow.
Still every piece I write feels like a letter to my younger self,
hoping he doesn't follow in my footsteps,— I wasn't the best
role model. The teen who would roll a model blunt just
to get a flood of ideas to drown out his mind.
But that's a lie; I never really was the one who knew how
to roll up one, and of course the intention was just to get high.
          Still... what's there to expect of a shy guy,
mostly the types who refuse to cry, choosing to give a bitter
reply. Never to say what's really on their mind: the truth
                     is I'm....sigh never mind!

I'm just writing to pass the time, like passing that blunt,
feeling like I can't, but I'd rather take knowing that I can't,
          then having more people call me out as a ****.

Love and feelings could you not forsake me,
deep breaths in my soul make me,
hopelessness I have degrades me,
slow days don't phase me.
But only catch me in awe to amaze me.


For alas I'm probably going crazy.

I want a lot of things, but a lot of things don't want me,
pushing  me away, as I'm pulling back.
From the glamour of the fame, and bit of success. I still want a piece of that.

For alas I'm probably at a place of lack.

And it's kind of an empty fact,
a dark hole I see myself falling into the very trap,
Selling me no good, comforting it with a pat to the back.

Pat pat you go,
for a piece of that sell your soul.

And they'll take your light, steal it's glow,
now you've lost your soul.
On wishing to have everything, but you've lost it all.
And the depths of Hell itself call upon you to pay your debts for your soul.


And like these words of such a write,
from top to bottom following a flow,
that's not what I hope to come from to go.
I want a bit of fame, but won't spare my soul.

I should paint out the movie scene, but I might run out of colors
because the vibrant hues of your presence have
illuminated my world with unmatched brilliance.
In the captivating touch of your skin, I found myself
falling deeply in love, consumed by the
warmth and tenderness of your cuddles.

With each beat of my heart, I hope you can hold on tightly,
just as we held onto each other in a timeless embrace
that I could never forget so lightly.

As the outside world peered in through the window screen,
their curious eyes filled with wonder,
attempting to imagine their own love scenes.

But let us draw the curtains of privacy and intimacy,
shielding ourselves from their gaze, so that we may
revel in the sacred connection that belongs solely to us.
As we both had a chance to lie, I couldn't tell a lie
of me doing this usually.

For forty-five minutes, I fortified my chest, determined
to maintain a sense of strength and resilience, knowing
that I had to keep going for at least another hour.
In this battle of life, I have faced numerous losses, but perhaps
the greatest loss was the diminishing of my own power.

Yet, when I look into your eyes, I find solace and tranquility;
a calmness that surpasses any tumultuous storm.
I yearn to see the serene stillness of the vast sea
within the depths of your beautiful eyes, a reflection of the
peace and serenity that washes over my soul in your presence.

       ****, that short moment felt so precious.

Everything will become nothing; snuggling closely
To all those days much brighter than yesterday
Running out of places to hide my shadow- a rush hour
Of emotions, hoping not to get stuck in more traffic
Laying on the sofa, putting a lot of thoughts in place
While she does so too, re-arranging her wig; sipping on cola
Weaving, adoring words to say at little speaking volumes;
Channelling together those gentle souls; generally speaking
Of how her tears sink away into the grass, like thirsty water
Thursday nights, where I’m planning to disappear into the earth
Folding into old habits with origami precision; time’s prison
Is feasting on me for dinner, and I’m drinking myself thinking
I don’t appreciate the time you and I spend together
But I argue with myself about it, when you’re only away

And it’s funny, how I’d pretend not to care;
Now here is the man who cares enough when you’re not there

I'm a believer, world's a deceiver.
I sleep for long, I'm just a dreamer.

Plots of my own makes of a schemer
I sleep for long, I'm just a dreamer.

I carry Love, I want to give you.
I'm here to stay, I'll never leave you.

Overbearing–
the past feels heavy on my heart;
burdened on the many regrets of life,
A heavy heart is of what weight you
choose to carry;

Carry your worth–but not carried away
in bright fame lights of successes,
Stuck for a moment; but we must soon
carry on...

Carry on, carry on, carry on;
carry that strength with a patient heart,
Carry on, carry on, carry on;
Soon will we make it to a peaceful end.

As with the most slipping tears
The wettest eyes only to cry at night
The moon is my comfort as an afterthought
On the bright side after dark, it burns to fall in love
Hoping it never loses its spark

Smitten remarks, smithing words to say
Fabrication of the moments of a first date
You'd bite your words desire like a sweet cake

Bones lie where they weight
Death of lovers comes as an eternity being apart
And in the heavens we'll meet to entwine separate hearts

The heartstrings pull and toil time
Incessantly working upon gaining trust
But in an instant a lie could break a love
Stick to vow, solemnly not only heart
Mind, heart, body and soul in place for beloved
To have been cut by love—forever carved

I’m inside of a scaled walled fortress,
the greatest strains in a mind's limit,
to limit myself inside of castle walls,

Of a writer's block,
refusing to let my passions rest
inside concrete walls,

Paranoia is a loud emptiness,
bouncing back and forth,
corner to corner; in this ball,
playing with my thoughts in these walls,

I can’t think inside of these walls,
can’t see ahead fears inside of these walls,
reluctant to move inside of these walls,
dependent on myself inside of these walls,
I have no choice but to break down these walls.

Practiced hope becomes the sermon we preach —
Seeking justice, and trying to live peaceably; but
Even peace has weight — bone, muscle, presence;
And some days, I feel so lost in this present.

Slipping into reflections, my mirror-skin cracks.
When all the smiles I wear shift with the script —
All these different moods, and a different cast.
The broken hands of time can't be set in a cast,
Yet we keep fishing for love, throwing out our
Hearts, trembling hands; hoping it's a good cast

For youthful exuberance — my crustacean lips
Would sometimes sound cleverly selfish.
Saying I want everything, but never speaking  
The language of real and given effort.

Still, everything you long to hold completely
Asks for patience — love, answered prayers,
Dreams and hopes —lest they drift from us,
Being quiet as uncast lines on still water.

the curious cat jumps the fence
game to chase after a butterfly –
to fill its stomach
       perhaps this is my view on love

while the old dog remains in the yard
chasing after its own tail –
hoping to bite onto success
       as this is my view on human regrets.

I’ve lost the art of praying for love;
Instead, I’m constantly praying for cause
Cause what’s the point of a lover’s love,
Without it coming alongside a real cause?

Cause you may say you love me
Professing your love with all your heart –
But in return; you go, and break my heart
Being the cause to my unstable mental state,
Being less of a state – more of a mental break.

So, please, apply your brakes, before you
Lay your heart bare before me – dreading
The thought of chronicling you as one of
My many, many mistakes; as your pretend
Love, served as that very cause.

////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”

Grand occasion
heartbeats shaking,
Will I make it to the end?
Life's journey,
filled with memories of before
(Soon after we'll explore)

Search more of yourself,
till there's nothing less to find
Within the many hearts,
passion of ideas in our minds.
Every moment written in history,
(We'll leave nothing behind)

Celebration of living,
a precious life. Pieces of silver & gold.
Celebration, a grand occasion,
the ashes to dust, till the dust is old.
Celebrate life,
(we don't know how long we're here for)

I know a self aware *******,
not always aware of what
he left behind,- I do it on purpose,
as my past feels a bit like ****

The self delusion, of inclusion
I skip a few steps to a conclusion
Being walked over; what's the conclusion
With just a hint of acceptance,- still a bit clueless
And a bit full of myself, but mostly foolish
Trying to live life twice, with a bucket list full of ice;
There's always that cold stare in my eyes; all jokes aside,
Society is always just a ride, and a few nights before,
I had lost my license for having a drive, still putting
All the many, many leftovers of my mind to the side
An appetite for destruction; a self destructive path,
All walks of life, and a few steps into showing my wrath
Sometimes a bit too dark; forgetting the oil in my lamp
But I get too comfortable in loneliness,- on depression's lap
I sold all of my wounds, but wound up feeling a loss,
At every cost of being too holy, as the holes in old socks
A really stinky attitude, stingy for showing any form of love,
I held on my arm, armed with a crude remark, just for who you are
And like this piece, everything seems to be happening far too long
////
////
////
For the old me and for us both, it's time to stop!

Hope in less fortunate times
belongs to the Brave
Life lives on the lines
of man surviving on God's grace.
As is faith,
waiting on what comes our way
On what will save.

Chandelier tears—pretty faces, pretty tears, pretty much falling,
crashing. Clear the room—this empty space sobers me; I’ve
been drunk on emotion again. The heavier ones don’t bring
me peace anymore, they only hit as hard as another strong
drink.

Should I speak? And in the same breath admit defeat—
these dark thoughts are so creative they become destructive,
crafting a beautiful kind of ruin I can barely reason with.

Hey—just speaking truth for those interested in it. Truth is...
I’m not always okay. I pretend to be, just to survive the weight
of another day.

It’s a dark space, and I clear the room to break down quietly,
to feel like I’ve repented something, to write myself into a better
place—hopping over the pen, jumping the fence of a mind that
sometimes cages me in. I’m not so pent-up anymore— not when
I let the ink do the talking.

And yes, I try to wear a brave face—but every face sheds a heavy
tear, every person caves eventually. Pitted against themselves.
As even the strongest people, the loudest, or the proudest—
they cry too. Just…not in front of you.

"In a time where the only time
someone gives an honest blessing
Is after you sneeze

But even then,

They're only doing it
out of a heightened instinct
Rather than actual genuineness."

"Maybe if we were keenly
focused on self change
Adopting change;
letting go of your chains

But many;

Want to pray for change
but never spare a cent towards it."

"And a blind fool
works himself till they bleed

But;

Only takes it as sweat;
never seeing all they've spent
On all they've lost;
trying to build a better tomorrow
With the problematic chains of yesterday."

              So is it Change or Chains?

Hey there wild child what got you so tamed
Warrior of the spear what got you so enslaved.

Hey teacher, why don't you leave the history books in the past. I hate living there.
This could be like bar fights in the night, no-one fights fair.
But what is this
Pretty eyes on wide hips. Forgive me I couldn't resist.

Still what's better, the wrongs a too many
The pride is full but their hearts so empty.
What's across the shadows, chaotic if you had asked me
You say the blind man is lost but he's ears had a lot to see.

Chaotic, I tell you now
Still how we got here don't dare to ask me how.

Cheaters smile the loudest, their lies are the sweetest, their misdeeds
are the quietest – lest it be the ones who get caught. Cheaters play
victim the proudest, their excuses are the longest, their faithfulness is
the shortest – they promise to change, but its short-change.

Cheaters can be the secret sexter; the guys with mistresses, the girls
with a current boyfriend, ready to reply to the other guy with a,
“yes sir,” then introducing them to you as just their friend.

Cheaters love to receive their flowers; being ready to sprout out
looking for more; so rich in wanting more from you – while their
attitude is so poor.

You can pour out your heart to a girl, just for her to spill tea with an
ex; you can listen to a guy pour out his love for you; while he's
hoping his glass of affections, earns him a night of ***.

And unfortunately as you make a deposit of your heart, waiting for
love to withdraw – others bank on the interest of seeing, you without
draws. Heavy is the crown of their ill thoughts; heavy are the lies
waiting in their jaws.

Cheaters happen to be those you thought you had known!

All the trouble
kept by a phone full of receipts
-you don’t check up on her much;
as she wears a pretty blush on those cheeks.

And she looked
at his hands and feet, trying not
to denounce his name, but ever growing
jealous of his fame: all the girls know his name.

Who knows,
how many he’s actually touched,
and walked them all to his quiet house
much less than he does with this current girl

Here goes a toast, a raised glass to the Heavens,
looking down upon us.

Wonder what you see

I could help, send back the picture,
a perfect sketch of this crazy world.
Send it back to you;  for you see it much clearer.

Our world is in a bit of mess,
havoc has made a home in the hearts of man.

Man's hearts have made homes in the idols they build, hoping to be an escape.
I'm guessing that's the plan, but it's a pointless thought I must confess.

Depression seems to be on a all time high,
yet cheap enough for everyone to buy.
But wait that's such a lie,
everything bad in this world is actually for free.
The good you work for, and working hard you'd have to do.

But I guess you knew

Here's something more appealing,
cut your right off that does the ***** dealing
And you'd have left the hand of stealing.

Here's something more relatable,
we're not really living in the time of he or she being marriage able,
Rather of;  "Hey I wonder if their sexually capable"

Still with me I hope,
cause if I don't have you to look at in these troubling times,
I'll fail to cope, laughing in my short breathes but it's nothing of a joke

Here's something more questionable,
trends of the new are just reruns of the old.
But someone kept bugging me that I stick way too much to the old, and that I'm not so relatable.

Must of been the way he read into my pen,
how it's words had something a little too unsettling to his natural discomfort.
Maybe because I gave him one word of friendly advice, and he only heard harsh criticism of probably ten.

Sorry brother, I won't stop you from doing the obvious wrong again.

Here's something I tend to notice,
took for me a while to get it. My advice, look at it with a little more focus.

Someone once told me I was useless,
how it echoed sadness in my heart.  Still it really wasn't what she said.
Rather it was saddening how easily I accepted it like that was my purpose,

Like I was only worthless.

Have I struck a nerve,
I know I may be complaining a lot, but I'm just seeing a lot we don't deserve.

We don't deserve the pure LOVE you open handly give,
Feels worse when I'm in my guilt and shame, as my pride makes it closed on my hand to receive.

I honestly don't deserve much of all the things you give me. Yet you won't stop.
And the sun of my heart sets sometimes into the  dark,
You're still the endless light watching me from up top.

Please never stop!

Cause in a crazy world, your sanity feels out of place amongst the insanity,
like being the black sheep of your entire family.

Still it's the little sanity keeping my eyes up to the Heavens.
The world is in a moment of chaos, but only as a moment.
So if the miracle you have for us appears in or after the chaos we'll  be the ones to show it.

Here's a glass raised, a toast to the Heavens,
looking down on us.

I do wonder what you see.

This really isn't a public speech, but really just a personal prayer to you Lord from me.


Cheers!

Cherry lips- the bite of sweetness in the very kiss
stings at my flustered cheeks; breaking my eyes to
tears, as I shut my eyes. My love, I have no doubt about
the warmth of your touch under my skin—beneath it all lies
a treasure chest, a key to unlock the flood of emotions that
surge like waves crashing around us.

We are ultimately overwhelmed by the layers—
the concern for another’s happiness woven into whispered
prayers; calling out for her soul- I once stood as a warrior,
battling my own feelings. But it gets so hard to contain my eyes
when we’re both naked and alone- a warrior standing in front
of a Medusa who turns me head to hard stone

I feel so ahead of myself- but our faces play no deceit,
in her eyes she’s made me so weak; to treasure every
step she takes walking on my mind- I should kiss her feet;
I should bow to her, showering her with love in every
fleeting moment, crafting a week worth cherishing.

          Ah, the ecstasy of those cherry-kissed lips...


Oh, the sheer joy that washes over me when my lips meet
those delectable cherry-kissed lips are simply enchanting!
It's as if a cascade of emotions erupts like a dazzling display
of fireworks, igniting a flame of passion that flickers at the
corners of my mind, crafting a rich embroidery of sensations
that is both exhilarating and intoxicating.

The sweet taste lingers on my tongue, a delightful reminder
of the magic that unfolds with every tender kiss; a euphoric
daydream that whisks me away to a realm where time ceases
to exist, and the only sound that fills the space is the rhythmic
thrum of my heart, blending seamlessly with the symphony
of longing that envelops us.

memory wise of all the
girls I've kissed (they weren't a lot)
climbing every tree, tripping
and bruising my knees (I loved kicking rocks)

out getting kissed by the
sun's bright rays (it was so hot)
skipping bath time at five
o'clock for a couple games (I wasn't stuck in the house)

bike races down to the
next corner (I always lost)
playing t.v. scenes in real
life outside (I was always the cop)

what a time it was,
a time so long gone.
just changing by the wears
of life.

So I got rid of all my children's socks.

my love hate relationship with chocolate –
cause I really love that it tastes so good,
but hate that there’s never enough, or the
need for me to be sharing it. and to such
a treat, we are slaves; when asked what I
need the most between sugar and life –
I need both.

as I endure the whispers of a late snack –
telling chocolate to meet me at midnight;
even when you tell me too much of it is
unhealthy, please let me love the pleasure,
and let me live with the possibility of having
a few less teeth.

it’s my favourite treat, that if you bought it
for me; I’d do a favour for you in a moment’s
heartbeat – as my heart beats for such a
chocolate feast; I can’t help this chocolate heat.

Oh carry on, or
be carried off by time
Carry your warm heart, or
it will carry a chill in it's spine
All as revenge served on
a cold dish; is dishing out poison
to your own soul

Oh spare yourself the waste, of
sparingly been used as a fool
Working on yourself, or
being worked off as a tool

really you're the one to choose;
choices all dependant on you

Holy or holey,
fired up or just a cloud of smoke?
A cigarette or lamp; which light represents
the light of your heart?

Action of words or just words on display,
practice what you preach, reap what you sow.
Do both in the actions of your word;
do justice to each apart.

Blowing in the wind or lead the pack ahead of it,
needle in a haystack, or a compass needle?
Teach the teachers to be teachers of teachers;
lead the followers into tomorrow's leaders.

Oppressed or blessed,
crowd pleaser or the brave out of the rest?
The freedom of chains to freely foster the shackled;
those thought to feel alone.

Rich or richness,
do you chase money or qualities of deep cares?
Fortune isn't based on possession, or deep pockets;
the worth of people should be your care.

Urban or rural,
high class, low or moderate; tears taste the same.
We all cry, bleed, and die without our wealth.

We all have choices to make.

I've seen the Devil in their eyes,
and look to Heaven in the skies.
There's a lot of evil in the world,
but free are the chosen.
When it falls down,
just know we'll be soaring.
Though it feels like you're falling,
as the dark tries to steal what is glowing
For the chosen will be rising in the morning.

Wayfare angel,
Yonder the North Star shining beyond
A divine herald sent from the heavens above.

Oh, this night, a wondrous night unfolds,
A child is born from a pure and holy womb,
In a humble manger, the Saviour lies,
To all ye shepherds and wise men gathered here,
Follow this radiant star, and behold the light of the world.

Arise, ye who dwell in the realm of the living,
Come forth to witness this miraculous dawn,
For a child is born, the Christ,
The Lord of lords; oh, sweet infant,
Your birth and sacrifice hold profound meaning for our world.
Let us worship Him who has come to save us—
Christ, the Lord of lords.

I’m unravelling, caught in the whirlwind of my thoughts; and if
I take my last breath; I’ll seal it with a prayer. I’d ponder,
“Where have you wandered, where have you fled— was that a
thinking cap or merely a shattered crown?” Seeking sanctuary
for my restless mind, as we all drift gently away from all the
burden of days

Drawing the curtains, teetering on the brink, weighing down
under the weight of endless days; I’m a heart-shaped fortress,
striving to guard love, yet I loathe it when some of it finds
a way to escape.  

I would grow weary of clinging tightly if my grasp was the
sole reason for their turmoil. They’ll entomb your tale within the
verses, preserving the melody. It’s a heart-wrenching feeling,
striving to hold onto those, we’ve lost. In the quest for what
remains elusive, we often lose our way in love. Yet, may God
grant them the resilience to continue holding on.

Learning on how to pray—kids without suits or ties
Trying to make tradeoffs for mercy, with our
little pocket change for tithes

"I need to change" I say on the Sunday
"don't forget about that sermon," by Monday
trying to keep my weight all on the Tuesday

Forgetful as always on Wednesday
thirsty in my spirit and my flesh by Thursday
planning out how to sin on the highs of Friday
my throat is too dry for asking for forgiveness by
the end of Saturday

So glad to make it back again to another Sunday

To love to be loved
letting being known that I'm only trying
Still don't know how much time I have
to fill up one of my cups
Still being charmed by these scars
still chasing the rush, like a dog chasing cars

And still it's not over until you've said it's over
posing questions- am I still worthy
and not just a poser

Yes, I am still worthy, in the openness of
my faith; my God that calls me closer
Here's the closer, the curtains soon fall
towards the end. A never-ending endeavour,
we live in a world only to last a moment
And in heaven we'll be golden forever, and
ever, Amen.

Bones into the many ashes
dust in amongst the surface
The tithes of time; in service
of the hands running on the clock
Church bell hyms to the mountain
tops of heavens close to the hills
Oh Churchill- searching in my eyes of a servant; serving a King

                  ...I rise in bravery on this hill

The ***** of old cigarettes
-their draft up your nostrils, going to war
with your lungs. Making rivers of red,
wet big eyes: a sore sight to the very mind

And came a sweet bite out of a cutie pie
whose sweet lips offer up such a surprise,
a slice of life; cherry filled with love- with such
a pinching sweetness, with a little hint of that
piercing on the tongue

So, when the two kiss, there’s a cigarette
flavour added into that tasty piece of pie

Going through our problems,
till we get to the other end.
Going round a situation,
only leads to going round in circles.

Landed on my own footsteps, I must I've been waking
in circles – with my gaze lowered. I crafted another poem,
weaving it with the chords of a guitar hidden beneath
my tongue, and shared a golden joke for the silver lining
of my soul.

My eyes, like polished bronze, seek a third reason to embrace
love, — fully aware of how swiftly I would chase after it, if
it dared to stay just out of reach. Oh, his path remains an
endless circle.

Tears burn away like flowers –
Weeds tested by the flames; it’s
Euthanasia, as we put down your regrets
Spelling errors; the mistakes to your life story

We’ve stuck them up across on these walls,
Like magazine cut-outs, those many pictures
In a mind’s room – all the things a child inspired
To be; sourced drawings from thoughts, hopes
And dreams; blood and tears as ink

Tears burn away like flowers –
Digging for them with a ***; it’s
Cognitive, thinking about your very past
Moulding; what hurt us then, shapes us now

My face is moulding clay; heated up for use.

I am the Clay, moulded from the tiny grains
Like a farmer of stars, tending to life's plains
My mission is to nurture, to heal every soul
The embrace of my essence; find your whole
  
I flow through existence, a canvas for flight
I lift you to heights, into the boundless light
With each gentle fall, I’ll breathe a life anew,  
From the depths of my spirit, I offer to you

I’ll give of myself, so your spirit won't wane  
Dwell in my heart, find solace from my pain

Oh my love, they don't know you as they should.
They don't know the depths of your struggles,
the battles fought and won in silence.

They are unaware of the countless hours you
have dedicated to self-improvement, pushing
yourself beyond limits, and never giving up.
Yet, despite their ignorance, they pass judgments
on you, labeling you as different, as if they possess
a superior knowledge.

But let's not forget, my love, that we inhabit
a world that thrives on the illusion of superiority,
where everyone believes they possess the ultimate wisdom.

My clear-skinned Cleopatra—
 you orchestrate pyramid schemes
  just to steal my heart,
and I fall
  willingly
   into your empire of allure.

–––

The notes of your lips
compose a song
   I note in silence—
the melody of your mouth
     lingering like red wine:
  mature,
    slow,
      intoxicating.

–––

Each word you speak
cups my hunger
   like a ritual.
I sip from your wisdom
   like a man who’s parched,
    yet drinks
     only in restraint.

–––

Your many faces of pleasure
    rise and fall
      like waves—
I pause, mid-smile,
   just to witness
      the swell of yours.

–––

Your touch brushes
the most sensitive parts of me,
  as your silk-cloaked body
    glides—liquid, slow—
guided
  by the current
     of your soul.

–––

And here I am—
  washed for words,
    mouth half-open,
trying not to drown
   in everything
     you make me feel.