When we are strongest
they try to chop us down
                    peice by piece.

                     Till were a stump,
that they can just stand atop.
But we will never be toppled.

We will always grow from
                     our lowest point.
And reach ourselves further
than we were before.

And if anyone were to try to
                                make us topple.
We'd poilitly let our heaviest branch
                      fall uopn them.

And watch them lie lower than
they ever tried to make us feel.
But we shall not gloat,
        we will just grow stronger
                   from there weakness.

How fragile must the skin of those that
                      need to feel that they are owed
                                  something from nothing.


Are owed or are grateful for waking up.  
                    Yet not taking on the fragility of life,
                    that others though they held
                there hands up high
were now silent beneath the gaze
  of tearful eyes asking
                                   why, why, why...

Thanking something that wasn't apart
               of that moment but more
             every action has a reaction.

We must realise that life is a random consequence
                                                               of our actions.

And no rabbits foot,
              or palms crushed together till numb.

Will change the fact that the world is a random,
                               chaotic path..

If wake up its because we were lucky,
                  because were all going to take
that wrong step sometime...

And no hands held high
                  or silent words will ever change that.

You'll never dilute the memory
                           of my last words..


That as I wondered the paths you
                               never trod upon.

Some uneven, but still I gazed upon
                       things you could have


gazed over...


But you never would walk footsteps,
              taking you beyond the safety


of those you followed...


My path was never smothered by
                                misconceptions.

I walked in life,
              while you stood still...


Mine was a diverse wondering,

                   some more heavy than others.

But I carried the baggage of my past and took
          new paths...


My last words are,
             take more footsteps than
          others,
              for if you stand still to long the view

is dull, and you haven't lived till you took that
                                                             extra step.

People say that
              talking to yourself

is a sign of madness....

I never talk to myself??


               I delegate

between all of them..
  

why should I take all the responsibility...

On the road to mental perfection
                 you have to get over pebbles,




before you conquer mountains.

Luck has to be earnt,
    Never given.

So go out
and make
          yours happen.

Waking up isn't the
           challenge.

The struggle, is lasting
        the day.

To realise you have another
                  morning to feel alive.

I drag you from ya bed,
              tie you up in


night terrors that are alive.


Razor wire gags, that give you
               that Cheshire cat smile.

As tears touch cold metal..


You'll never use your mouth again,

    to verse disrespect to me
            or those closet to my family tree.

          I haven't the patience..

For you lack lustre mummers..


This is message to those who think
                      they can smile in my direction.

Words have consequences.


    "yo wake up,

                   "What the hell you doing in my room,

"you ready to smile,

We never see the truth,

             that the world



is but a shadow.


And when we
                see the world for what


it is,

               a form of beauty.


The strengths
             stretch further than the eye


can see..

And we finally see the light hiding in the cracks

They think, that I'm like
   a disowned  feline...

Throwing me out first floor
                    windows..

Do I land on my feet...…
               No I land on my ribs,

on my head, only scrapes..

But my ribs are broken like
             a chess board... one wrong move
and its check mate..

I'm dying where I lie...
             choking on the blood of my
             ******* world moves...


But I landed on my wrist...


They'll never catch my broken *******,

   broken slang.
      

But they knew what a hand held with another
                                                      meant..
a mangled ******* as I survived another day.


I came back like a bee looking to sting,
                     but the ones who fell out there nest


were stung by another not me..


I'll walk another day.. been stung a few times..
             but I learnt my lesson...


Don't mess with the nest unless you

                want to be in anaphylactic shock of


some random fools words

trying to prove,
                               some insecurity for an abandoned




father figure, that's compensated
by a bullet,
                          and a promise of we got your back.

We live on the same street,

but you anit nothing like me,


This isn't a 12A,
    The kids in this will **** you for


disrespecting the other side of the street..


Eternal outlaws, as kids we knocked and run
                                    each others doors..

But i knock your door,
          you lucky if you survive,

              the third knock that is off the safety...
  

A hole fills your vacant look, holes at the front,

                    smudges that cant clean off your regrets..


I'll knock your memory into the past..

          mothers will cry.. but you'll never realise


that we aren't just one street.


But you look at me wrong, I'll knock some sense
                   into your frame..

Bruised moments..

You cross my gaze,
                   my street…
                               I'll make the black
vison of bow heads grace the road..

   But you'll not see,

             your the one closed eyed,
                                     while others weep...

I wasn't raised like you,
           I wasn't a full loaf of bread..

You were cut with the decency
        of a raised moment worth
                      a cut a slice pride.


Me, I wasn't like you,

misshapen
      raised morality..
                      you were perfection.


I was an uneven rising.

               Never to be cut like
you.

I was cut and never sliced in

a  correct line..
  

More like an uneven episode of
                 life,
burnt on some
                             sides....

not realising the potential of the other..
               I was just ill positioned in life.

I'm never going to respect you,
                       I'll just walk on the cracks.

And you'll avoid me, but I'm more pure than




               your morality, as I'm never plastic...


You faker than I'll ever be...
                               I'll die before you,

but at least i died realistically ..

I'll never **** with her,
           she's more lethal..
   than a James bond villain…

Her legs have more power
  than a Fukushima releasing
             her poison between
     my hips.

I'm a rod and she's
the water containing my
          explosion...

but she evaporated,
             never watching...

Realising,

that what I release is like a virus.


           Contaminating the womb
of creative contagion...


You'll float in the abortion of my
         chock hold of words...


You'll never be born, still born words,
                     I'll burn you in a shallow grave.
And you'll realise that I'm never  to be ****** with.


My words were like a machete of gunfire cutting
            you up before you even knew pain.

I'm a nationwide hunt, and you'll be buried
                                                       in my words,
shallow rhymes, given a urinated burial...
  
                           I'm relieved your here and not in my view.

I'll swerve in to the path of your lane,
your words are never enough
             to make me hit the hard shoulder.


I'll 911 your **** into the submission,
     you'll never swerve by..

I'll make you,

        barrel roll in to the suburbs
                          and
                          you watch....

With a pipe
                       and smoke, submit to my rule.


You'll never drive your words like my rules,
                          Irregular rhyme,
  that the wheel will lose its traction...
                                and you'll lose,
        the tread of the road..

Only the tarmac holds the tread of decent,
                      wording that doesn't slip...

You cant hold any traction on the words that
                drive faster than anything you try...


                                to grip beyond the first red light.

I'm green but I run faster then anything
        that you have in park..

              you'll try to rev, but you stall before
         I've even passed you on a repeat...
                                  repeat
                                                    repeating
the same round,
                    That you were playing when I
started this course,

                                    but you haven't even started.

Just park up,
                  you haven't got the petrol to race my words.
                            your engines  already stalled...

My hello's
           were never enough to
you coming to me...

But my goodbyes kept you
     returning
                      for that lingering
taste of what you didn't want.

But in the end I never answered
                                the door.

(knock, knock)
       my heart is with holding its number.

The lines dead, Ill never say hi, goodbye...

                 that moments...….
                               regrettable

But I have peace of conscious,
                   peace of mind..
      now your not in my thoughts.

The  dormancy of my linguistics,
          doesn't mean  I'm ignorant.

But I jest at the wastefulness
                                  of breath.

To expel the fortitude of such.

    Anger is to give me weakness
           of character, and you undue
                                        strength.

I may seem like the sheep,
                   but do not take my

muteness, as a respite of no validation.

For one is most aware when all is smothered
                      in contemplation.

And then you are like a crumpled leaf,
                    silent and calm....

I didn't utter a word, I just walked away.
            letting you take in the view
of me not caring that you were in my shadow.

Not uttering  your worth, but I showed you
                that silence can knock down the
                                              strongest word.

I weep for the flowers,
         who have lost the love of another.


when ever petal drops,
               they are alone.

          no longer beauty,
just a stem of
                                            what was....

What if's,
                could they have been
a
    moment of others picking
             sharing the beauty of life..

But alas, they departed in sorrow,
             and now hangs a stem..
with nothing to show but regrets..


Maybe next time.....

No matter how tired
                             I am,
         and of my eyes want to
creak shut.

               I'll read to you till
we  fall asleep together,
  in imaginations slumbering
                          blanket of snores.

(it maybe her or me? we haven't decided)

You want to test
your nail varnish colour,
              paint my toes a rainbow.

I'll always smile  
          when I look down at your
                      art work on my pinkies.

(2 months later its still there AAArrrrr)

You may not realise this but every tired
              moment means I've spent more
                                            time with you.

And every moment is a smile waiting
                   to happen.
                        You'll always be my No1
thought,
                      when the sunrises with you.

                         Till the moment the stars
                  shimmer us to sleep.

Under a bed fort made for one of you.

                               and a three quarters of me...

When the tall falter,

        Then those

Who were beneath

   Can show that

Even below.

      They were always

Beneath view.


Standing tall beneath shadows,
       They shone bright.

What can I say I'm cheap,
I couldn't afford a 69 so I went
for the cheaper 59, 10% off.
      
                      Ye off the end result.


She was like tongue me deeper,
                    and she blew me.

Not like a vacuum hose,
more like blowing a birthday
                        candle out.

I'm moaning, she's coming.
Then a gust of wind in my face.

What can I say, she called me cheap!
And you get what you paid for,
I don't know why but my ***** are singed.....

To realistic for my liking that *******.

The mother of ones

children is a godess,
      for she birthed creation.

  Where a man can only plant,

a woman nurtures
and watch's it grow
               into something beautiful.


That both can be proud of.

Knowing that one was once
             a seed,

is now strong enough
         to branch off on there own.

Least we fall, let it be on
to a ****** we dislike
     to cusion our descent. .

And may we smile,
    while they wince

in regrettable pain.


Whoops did my foot accidently

        tread upon your  

private property..

Well least you remember
that ones fall
       is another's pain.


And another's *******...

God is a delusion of the weak.
              If you need someone
               to cuddle you.

Then you are not a man
                         but a child.

But those who have grown


know that morality

is in the heart of humanity.

For those who listen to whispers,

                   must realise
that it's just the wind
                               playing tricks.

The definition of self,
        Is not to liner on our
                       Problems.


But to help others to solve
             The failings
    That can be proven to
                 Be an asset of learning.

And change it..

For the better,
       That way,

we are lessons that teach
       Each other substance.

Collect my words,

     There worth is useless.

But your smile

         Is priceless..

Words have value

     As long as they make
                         Someone smile.

Perfection

     Is an imperfection.


An imperfection is

        A unique beauty.


We are all beautiful

      With are uniqness.

They say life's
  
        A story.

Me, I never read mine.
    

I lived it, who wants to know
     The beginning and the ending.

live your story,
     Skip chapters,

Remember your writing it.

We should
    Never think
We're better
        Than another.

But should always
strive to be
better
       Than ourselves.

We cant undo
what has
     Already been expelled.


Never can we
catch a breath,
      That was breathed before.

Learn that every
exhale
   Has meaning.

And we only have
         So many,

let every single one count
      For something.

A smile is a
       Stone skimmed  into

the sea of life.

It'll ripple outwards,

      Washing up on others
             Shores.

A smile travels  along way,
       See how far yours can


Make waves.

Kindness,
      Worth nothing.

But pays with
        Just one act.


Go on make someone


         Smile today.

One is never weakest
     when they think they  

have fallen.

But one must show that
every footstep  is a motion
                 to rise.


Proving  that no matter
the steps we fall down.


There are always fresh ones
                untrodden,

that will let us climb higher


            than before.

You are the one
                 footstep
that connects to mine.

For every stride we take,
                Is never singular

   But one in unison.


You and I, are a step in the right

           Direction.

Never mistaken, but when we
             Work together


we"ll always take the right step.

I'm a victim of my own
                                  voice.

A ****** suspect of my
                          thoughts.

My actions are a chalk drawing
                         of mistakes..

But in all of this I was innocent,
                          not a suspect...

The web we weave,

                only catches the
flies of our misdeeds.

We may have droplets,
        of regrets hanging
           in the morning
but they dry up.

remember life is a web intricate,
           and flawless.

the only ones that can cause ruination
                  are ourselves.

           never catch what you cant handle.

We will always be the sum of

                     2 parts,

              that = 1


                            - 1
       and there is only loneliness.

But together 1 + 1 = less but more
                        than was before.

You are the equation
       I've yearned for,


              that just adds up completely.

You were  bright-eyed like a flouriest
                     angel lighting up the streets.


But they can be dimming.


            Night has away of draining
                                                  beauty

into void less shadows.

I once saw stars in your eyes,
          now all I see is the space

in-between.

Flowers blossoming,
            spring breezes
            were your words to me.

I found you clipped,
           dead eclipses vacant within you.


It doesn't matter how bright you shine,
                               the city may outshine

                                                  you.

And what was always able to rise,
               set with the demise of light.


They found you extinguished,
       in a shallow grave of regret.

Cities have a way of collecting
             the wishes upon stars,

and dousing them out in to
nothingness
            but silence.


I wish upon a star, but all stars die...

I felt *****,
        worm down.
        but I stepped into the rain.


Every droplet had a meaning,
                 erasing, cleansing
moments that clung onto me.

Some were easy to dislodge,
              washing away before me.

Others were like soot, coalmine
                                                deep.

Only the deluge before the pause,
                                  awoke my life.

Something's never really clean away,
           but are dulled, only to await

the next deluge to cleanse me
                     that little bit more.

My looks were never a van-gogh.

                   But more the


abstract version of a never
                     published child.

I'm not pretty, never said I was.

But my colours
                     vibrant..

Hopefully I may rub off
                                       on you.

Looks aren't everything you know .

Come for me,

          but let it be a mortal wound..


For if I breath a breath...

Know that yours is a hastily
      
                     kept moment.

And obituarises aren't in
                      the vocabulary


                                         of


shallow graves.

My depression

       Only flows with tears



Of regretful consequence.


Do you know what warm tears
                Taste like.


The sorrows of what lays still.



    Im sorry, but I couldn't let  

              Another drown with

My irreversible mistake.  



Swim far, so I didnt sink,

          I want to swim,

With you all, family are together.

If we die
           For less than,



Our humanity.


We aren't worth

   The flesh were printed on.


Worthless copies of  nothingness.
           That are reprinted in vain.


Let our humanity be the virtue,
         That we live for.

Our memories are woven
         in those closest.

And the stitches only become
                        faded over time.

But even though never forgotten,
       we see there pictures.


And know that we were proud
          that they were sewn into
the memory of all that we remember
       That there memory is worn well.

If I were just one word,

               I'd be simply  

                             "me,

I may have tripped
            over my own feet.

But at least when I stumble.

I know its my own steps that
                      got me here.

Laughing that the shoelaces of life,
               made me dust off..


And not watching  my step,
           but make sure if I do

trip again

its my own fault.

          And not someone else,

getting in the way of my walk.

Even though the candle  

                 Burns brightly.

There was no warmth.


This wick has been cold
                       For more time,

           Than others know.

My wick burns negative,
        My light is cold against

The realities of life's burning
                    Ambition.


I want to be warm,
      But even though I'm bright.


My flame holds no furnace.

           Just embers that are cold

I will rest when death
kisses
        My soul.


And my windows,
    Cease to look

up a view.


All will be quite within,
          As I am gone,


and my shell no longer fruitful,
               Spoils


over time.

Words are a sail,
   
 that is either
     Greeted at the port of others.

Or shipwrecked on the rocks  
of
    ignorance...

Hope is a candle in
        A
hurricane of darkness,

But against the storm,
                A
             light ignites brightly.

Hope maybe small,
      but it will always burn


brightest when we think
                     it is gone.

I could never swing from a 0..

   cos I'm always plus one,,

I'm never alone, the weight to much to carry
to an early grave,  

                    if I ever thought of that moment,
   they'd be my wings giving me flight.

I'd hang on for the breath on sunrise knowing
             that there is a new beam of balance.

That id not be dust,but I'd be a fresh breath
                        on the new day.


I'll neve be a zero hanging limp,
            as im always plus one.

Which the all of you breathing me through
              each daw, knowing there is more

to keep me going, even though I'm low you keep
                   me flying high enough to float


and not fall where a hang alone, silent...
    

   Know I breath each dawn and I'm never alone.