I'm eccentric

An enigma

Very flappable

Stoical sometimes

Rowdy

Quiet to a fault

I've been told

I love all shades wrong

You can't pin me down to a particular category

Notoriety you could say

Beign lambasted comes with the title

Embracing?maybe

But that had me covered in blotches

But I'm happier embracing that

Socially constricted

But my cycle love deeply in ways that is freeing to some

I'm exceptionally jumpy some days

Emotions ?lets say they are tasking

Let's say they are OK

I show them by helping out,reducing their burden

I know I'm strong physically

But I've learned recently

My mind is stronger

Being me is daunting

But no one else could play that role
Better than I do.

a slave to desires
masters manipulation;
ushers the dark age.

Without the will, power is meaningless. Without power, will is ineffective.

The artist's true power is deception. Mystery is her medium, myth is her message.

Without the willpower to do something, is it possible to will oneself to obtain it?

The artist only panders to nostalgia. The profit speaks about current events. The historian lays-out a plan for the future.

Could will be the emerged pattern of chemical and electrical forces, as evolved via the force of entropy?

Could we be driven to seek will? Can we will new drives?

Black men, why you stray from your path?
why do your eyes wander away from the pearly gates of life?
Why are those gold eyes of your wander away from mine?
Those eyes where intense for mine,
as if your were meant for mine.

Let me ask you,
does my mountain doesn’t curve enough for you?
is it my sun doesn’t shine enough for you?
Or does the ocean doesn’t waves enough for you?
Why am i not enough for you, black men?

Our hair woven from finest of sheep,
Our skin is richest of color.
Our laugh is brighter than sun.
Our whole personality, being, and soul
Are one of God greatest works.
Our love is one of a kind; no matter how
much you try,
we always be one of a kind.

The outbursts of angry women,
the most beautiful thing to witness.

We fight to be heard —
Another cycle, that will never end..
It is only a wish to watch the fall of men.

red is the blood that pours down his arms
red is the flush on her cheeks
red is the flower that they wear on their charms
red stains my carpet for weeks

wine and women
power hungry; driven
red controls life.

red is the heart
hurting the boy
pumping too hard and fast

red is the truck
that took them away
the world speeding past

red is hungry
red is power
red is strong.

men of endurance
will often take the back seat -
they’re driven by poise.