Tonight, as I flip through the world in the fog of the sky,
My brother's coughing beside me, rolling onto his right side,
We're pulling the bald landscape over our bodies of dust, 
We won't be dreaming of fairytales, just of a home to trust.

We drank too many tides, the sea is spilling over our bodies,
One day when our hearts explode, our names'll rhyme with casualties,
Along the tribes we race, at a young age hard we learnt,
That the longer we wait, the more of our memories will be burnt.

It's in black and white, the digital world they're fussing about,
We're in one cell of this universe that seeps no sound,
The clatter from the battleground rivals our ringing ears,
My dead mama said, boys were born to laugh at fear.

Through mirrors of smoke, I think I see distant planets shine,
I write to God everyday, can you patch the holes of mine?
At a tie in this war of peace, they bow down to the lion in the cage,
It'll only ever be a means to end, even our corpses will be estranged.

They only ever see eye to eye and claws to fangs,
Under clouds of fire, me and my brother will dance.

They say for a girl, sentiment wins over intelligence,
They say God gave her a heart, that'll be her guidance.

A man with yellow teeth, growling words out of a cigarette,
His lighter burns with each of his stares, he chuckles, "Oh why's the lady upset?"

He shows his son the world where only those devoid of emotion make it home,
His daughters are allergic to sunlight, he's building his son out of stone.

The fight has one face, the companions of the moon scarred by the night,
A man hides his dirt under a black suit but the lady shall wear white.

Because when she'll look in the mirror she'll see her mother,
And her mother will see her grandmother, hands wrinkled from serving her brother.

He said, "As your father I love you, but as a man, I'm meant to push the wheel,
Ask him to patch the holes of his socks, and what he'd like for the next meal."

Because sentiment wins over intelligence, isn't that how it works?
Make an extravaganza about respect, but only her heart it concerns.

And as one last word of wisdom, her mother taught her of vulnerability,
And warned her about how minds work, how they become a liability.

A table with shiny mahogany wood, that's where she sits,
She's having this conversation with time as it passes in seconds and splits.

And her name became an insult, one that dignity frowns upon,
Her future a ghoul, it's mere thought something she's running from.

It was amazing how they decided to diverge races of humanity,
Creatures shall live as predators and preys for eternities.

I am the greatest poet alive.

In my body, I am the greatest poet alive,
In my continent, I am the greatest poet alive-
Yesterday, I was…

Today, I am the worst poet alive,
Because I know that yesterday
I was at the peak of my poetic diffusion,
Inspiration stayed the night,
and greatness happened to have occurred,
So yesterday, I was the greatest poet alive,
in my population-of-one continent.

Today I'm just a jealous bitter soul,
Cause I know I wasn't good enough
for inspiration to stay,
Today I know that inspiration fears commitment,
I resembled everything appalling,
I was desperate and needy,
So inspiration left me for another poet
without a second glance.

Because inspiration doesn't want to be
chained down to the grounds of monotony,
A room with four walls is all I could offer,
And it needs a castle where it can trespass
to the wilderness of the sky any time,
It needs the freedom where it can soar
above and look down
in fascination at the array of poets
that it has touched their minds and hearts,
Because that's when inspiration feels alive,
When it can see the power that it has diffused
into their -now- luminescent hearts,
A picture depicting a sky adorned with stars,
An earth adorned by poets that never sleep.

Today, I'm heartbroken because I know inspiration will never be 'mine'.*

It will continue to break hearts, then come back,
And I know that I will continue to accept its apologizes,
Even if they weren't uttered,
I will make one up inspired on spur of the moment,
Because without it I'm nothing but the worst poet alive,
In my body, in my population-of-one continent.

And when the days click and the words rhyme,
The world isn't always forgiving of the greatest poet alive in my population-of-one continent,
Because my poems are me,
And I know that I'm flawed,
I have bad hair days, my nose isn't pretty,
sometimes there are bags under my eyes, and I'm not always the nicest person,
Sometimes my appearance is disheveled,
Just like my poetry,
Then some days I spend the extra ten minutes in front of the mirror,
I care for the details,
And some days people actually like my words,
those are the good days.

And today, I am the worst poet alive,
Because I don't have hope,
Inspiration didn't leave me a note before it left,
It didn't give call me and said I'll be back in a few days,
So today I'm the worst poet alive in my book.

I've cleaned my mind though,
And threw away all the disposal pins
where I burst the bubbles of words that sound ridiculous,
I also folded away all the negative feedback
that my cerebral cinques have given me,
Hopefully inspiration might want to visit the greatest poet alive … tomorrow?

All of her friends are reflective surfaces,
She is every verb, adjective, and noun,
Complimentary conversations as greetings
The words bitten will come back to hound.

Inspiration is the greenest form of envy,
By means of law, canvases should be handcuffed,
So that her every tide is a tsunami,
And the world shall fill their glasses till they've had enough.

Mountain rocks depicted with precision,
Her neck meets the outer layer of the atmosphere,
Her fork digs into words of appreciation,
A yellow smile beneath every crushed veneer.

In the jungle of artists striving for life,
Her nails are red wax tearing at every masterpiece,
And on every name she climbs ahead,
Till every deer is scared of her remorseless teeth.

Perched between two islands, I stand
Praying the world will trip over my hand

The soot emerging from one side gave a speech,
Earth is towed around the sun with a thin leash,
So we bite at it like aliens trying to preach,
As if we're better off alone, so we'll take a part each.

Ignorance hollered from the other side,
Man can dissect his body and breathe his pride,
New laws of the universe are getting employed,
One more step from cannibalism getting justified.

And we believe the man with the white teeth,
The water is muddied, their minds must have leaked,
They make plans to pull the ocean from beneath me,
So I hold my breath, and pray for one last tree.

But as they run along the map they don't coincide,
Mace and verain, one hand was black, the other was white,
The plans they made to cut in half change to just one bite,
And the loser is the one who uses the letters of Unite.

Now the water is full of dynamite and grenades,
A thought that started with a heart ended with a *****,
Knives hovering above the dying grass in wait,
Only one ***** mouth shall eat the whole cake.

And perched between two islands, I stand,
Watching clawing sharks marring the map.

A filthy legacy passed to the ones yet to come,
Though the sphere they're juggling is long long gone,
With stale rivers, grey skies and bribed suns,
What is it we're fighting for? A world fit for no one.