What a historic day it is, that the birth of Motherland we celebrate,
She beautifies herself with Independence and prides in freedom;
Like a berry, Her seeds are nurtured and groomed to pomegranate,
Its the birthday of Nigeria, a tectonic day of liberation from Edom.

A day to celebrate Her sweet Autonomy and Ultimate Supremacy,
An October 1st that marks an Independent and historic liberation;
She prides herself in political Authority, Power and Predominancy,
Its the born day of Motherland, a day of a feast worthy celebration.

Let's all celebrate the birth of Nigeria, for Her age's a befitting feast,
We must unite together as One Nation built on our Elite's landmark;
This day calls for a jubilation to a lasting freedom and a vital feast,
Motherland glows with honour and pride, for her birth's a hallmark.

She fought like an Eagle with great might and valor, for the liberty
Of Her future generation, and Hero's blood a fountain of freedom,
Today we laud a Nigeria that birthed the Independence and stability
Of a Sovereign Nation, that feeds no more on the putrid of Edom.

Today marks the 56th born day of Nigeria, and still a Sovran Nation,
It calls for a celebration, a befitting feast and a historic merriment;
An October 1st that marks an Independent and historic liberation,
Its Nigeria's Independence, a day to celebrate a sweet merriment.

©Vabec.

The Lioness is one of God's majestic creatures
She is mighty ferocious fierce and brave
Prides herself in her features
While killing the antelope she has desperately crave
The Lioness is filled with love
Only as she watches her cubs
With the lion her belove
And protects them from the hard stubs
The Lioness is not submissive
She lets the lion become king for as long as she pleases
Never permissive
Until hell freezes
The Lioness is the true queen of the pride
No one dares challenges her
If you do you will not slide
You will only talk of blather
If you hear her fearsome roar
then take heed of this lore

Growing up, I was taught the story of two men
One built his house upon the rocks and one upon the sand
And I learned the difference between humility and pride
I was taught to differentiate the foolish from the wise
Because when God sent the rainfall and the waters began to rise,
The house on sand crumbled right in front of thoughtless eyes
And my father would tell me, "Darling, don't build your foundation in the weak, in something that might die"
But I've been constructing my home on gravel my entire life

If there is a God
Why did he let me build my house upon the sand?
Why did he lay down every brick and let the nails tear through my hands?
I am an urchin in the dirt leaving claw marks in the earth
And my cries fall from my mouth and cling to my tattered shirt
If there is a God
Then why would he call himself a Father to me?
Why would he want to break my heart and crush my dignity?
He prides himself on the ringing in my ears
and his mason jars of tears
Instead of being my faith, why would God want to be my greatest fear?
If heaven is where he is,
then hell is anywhere but here

If there is a God
And he's my Father
And he is so divine
Then why did I grow up so sick and sad and tired all the time?
Why would he instill doubts from Satan himself for everyone to see;
"You're inadequate
Inadequate
That's all you'll ever be"
My mistakes render me useless,
At least, that's what Father says of me

And if there is a God,
And he's my father
How could he walk away as if nothing ever happened, although I have seen it all before
Because what happens in this House of Heaven stays behind closed doors
He would enter his bedroom, and leave the door open just a crack
So when he would read his Bible and show us how a true Christian should act
I'd turn to my little brother and say "I wish one day we'd be holy like that".

The mortar in my walls are breaking and the water is rushing in
I wish so badly to repair it, but I've always been like this
The dirt I fell in twenty years ago is matted to my skin
The cuts on my soul since childhood are all I've ever been
I'm sorry Father, for I have sinned
And I have nothing good to show
And I don't mean to point the blame, Father, but sin is all I've ever known

If there is a God, would he let me stand before his throne?
Would he take me into his arms and treat me as his own?
Would he wash my ***** shirt and let me stand where the saints have stood?
Would he help me build a house upon the rocks
Like a father should?

I wonder if I can build it well enough to reach him
Because my current house can't as long as its this way
If there is a God
I wonder what he'd say
about me

I am the prodigal daughter you never learned about in stories

I am sooooo tired,
exhausted..
My mind needs to be shut down,
my head hurts.
Words want to be said but my prides me wounded, my selfworth is burning low
there is a lump in my throat.
I'm haunted by to evanescent nature of my past joy.
Daunted but how far my seems to be.
Yesterday, last week, last month, last year and today have me in the center, wearing the same things, feeling the same,
worried I'm at my end, but a while older

my life seems to be rejecting me; or maybe I it..
I want to be free to exist but everything seems to come with a cost.
There are critics everywhere
even my thoughts have thoughts objecting to them before i receive them and make certain i don't need them.. So I'm running around in circles not knowing why i never got around to things my mind first thought whiles ago,

my will has become meek
my worth shrunk to camouflage with dust specks
I'm exhausted from playing this part,
misguided by the values of what's recently been made 'right'
distracted completely from the life i want to live.
And i don't have a clue which switch ***** it back to normal,
or which life i will leave for those which have grown accustomed to this timid version of me...
After all people aren't always happy when they say. "...you have changed..."

He is the inconvenient truth,
And always goes unnoticed.
I guess it's for the better,
I would hate to be ****** into,
His heart he hides,
Under the vacant smiles.

He is the boy who tells white lies,
And balms his good intentions.
I want him to tell me so,
I hate the fact he doesn't.
His mouth just seeps sugar,
What he thinks I want to hear.

He is a constant misconception,
And prides himself on his demeanour.
They think of him as nice, or kind,
I hate the fact I see the latter.
His delusions of how things should be,
Will never cloud my judgement.

For what I hate the most about him,
Is that I know who he really is,
And it's sad,
he wouldn't recognise reflection.

Animals that have one soul, but two faces
Animals that hide themselves in lies and insecurities
Animals that like to overcomplicate life
Animals that will assault each other with words
Animals that have prides, but act alone
Animals that discriminate on each others individualities
Animals that will **** each other of a matter of ideals

This specie is suicidal
They do not deserve to share the Earth with the other creatures
They build and build only for it to be destroyed
One step forward and two steps back
We repeat history, never learning
We may as well call ourselves Chaos and Insanity

A flag of a distant island
On the wall of a "home"
Made on a compound
An immigrant family
A mother trying hard
To grasp the sands
Slipping through
the hands of time
As the children prides
Themselves
On the fading memory
Of a language spoken
In a far away land...

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It is time to give that-of-myself which I could not at first:
To offer you now at last my least and my worst:
Minor, absurd preserves,
The shell's end-curves,
A document kept at the back of a drawer,
A tin hidden under the floor,
Recalcitrant prides and hesitations:
To pile them carefully in a desparate oblation
And say to you "quickly! turn them
Once over and burn them".

Now I (no communist, heaven knows!
Who have kept as my dearest right to close
My tenth door after I've opened nine to the world,
To unfold nine sepals holding one hard-furled)
Shall - or shall try to - offer to you
A communism of two ...

See, entry's yours;
Here, the last door!

Letting wings
Tell the story...
Marvel at a sunshine's keep
When the bravery of simple and worldly...

Suppose a charity of kind
Vainer though kept, to these we mind
A house of resolve, a yearning time
To remind even the littlest hopes to find

Gages of wan, wonder in the eye?
Overt to liberty, the talk of somewhere
Favored for sense, surmisal in the lie
Of conscience to have, the least's we fare

Cope, sincerity, and honor
To tell a tale of such, might's we enthuse
Is a labor of love, the dread in songs and heirs
To come, with the ides of repose, we never lose

Without a voice to fly
A hap and demand of sustained go
Through the moments deed, a showing of cause all the while
Realms to its survival, the role of strength to hold...

A broken promise?
A seclusion of rights, to word and envy of a letter
Seen in the needs of virtue, we claim are a host of what sigh's
A means to an end, that has saved even a little more than better

They say your lost at sea
lost at sea within my dreams
hard to reach
hard to touch from where im from
completely out of reach

they say youve come back for another try
the say youve walked and now your down
they said youve been there
open arms
wide looking eye
waiting for the chance to come by

this chemical equation
of covalent bonds mixing in heat
magnetic shifts pull us here
binding energy across the room
is buffered by the prides dream

but what catalyst my love
can ignite such desire
its reaching critical mass
about to start a nuclear disaster

its as if i have turn into a halogen
reacting   to the site of you
coming into the room

the insoluble pride of my desire
is boiling to a point
i might return

but to you its as if
my face
was a line spectrum only showing
certain things

the potential energy
bursting
esxstasy

For someone who prides themselves on always being honest,
                          I am really such a liar

And for someone who likes to act all cold hearted and tough,
                            I'm a lover not a fighter

And when I say "I don't care, I don't care, I don't care"
                          It's because I care too much

And when I seem level headed, collected, and calm,
                            My insides are really mush

So when I inevitably get **** faced and text you:

                                        "I love you"

Or,

               "I  hate you"

Or,

                         "I hate you because I love you"

Please let me down easily

Because for someone who constantly claims you mean next to nothing to her,
                                           I am really such a liar.

I’m convinced that someone’s hacked into my head
and deleted the part of my brain that controls my concentration.
Because at times, I have the attention span of the goldfish who just downed a bottle of vicodin.

See, my brain is a livewire lined with high-voltage power lines of dreams and ideas,
and I can’t shut off all the switches and relays flooding messages to my nervous system,
because what I have is a nervous system.

Every caustic, worried thought that I’ve ever thought tends to show up there,
and all I ever do is worry about how one wrong word might end a relationship,
or how one right word could start a new friendship,
or how everything that I keep reading into,
is just bleeding into everything else,
mixing colors,
while I’m sitting here…

forgetting to take the time to paint with my passions and prides.

Doubts, dreams, broken hopes.
Faded future
Lost, but never found.
The cost is right
Nightmares now consume the night.
Monsters aren't bad
the heartache haunts me.
Dragons breathe nothing compared to you words.
They burn so bad the coals never cool
The sting and sizzle ruin my faith
You'll never be back
Your prides too high, fall back down to earth
Still by then it's just too late.
So Long.
So long.
Sweet Dreams.
Sweet Dreams.

Calculated or spontaneous movements, both quiet and loud
We are who we're becoming, we were born to be proud
But pride has this level, pride has this curse  
Pride has this tendency of making matters worse

Pride is crucial and necessary, but pride causes pain
Pride is fear of losing one's edge and in turn losing potential for gain
But do we really have an edge, or just a lackluster illusion?
What's this feeling that keeps us inside this self-securing dellusion?

Sometimes I wonder if just for a day, I took all my pride and threw it away?
If I said all the words I've ever thought to say, would I see things start to go my way?
If I stopped telling myself the world can't see me without a mask
Creating a vision of openness, while leaving vulnerability all in the past

While I'm strong, and strongly convicted to my honesty  
I'd rather lie wholeheartedly, than admit I feel weak
Because remember that word, that strange hovering boulder
That tells you to take your welcoming heart, and make it turn colder

But what can we say when pride keeps us safe? Really what can we do?
Whenever I've tried to push it aside, I've felt things that felt together unglue
If the stakes don't matter than prides not a factor, we know what to bring
Yet we'll sit where we are, afraid to move for anything worth anything

I'm hoping one day, I find a new way to keep my soul safe
That I'll stay proud of who I am but not too proud to try
That I’ll look back to how I used to hold back and I'll be laughing
I'm starting to have faith, stranger things have happened

Never he was an honest man
Who prides himself
On wanton expeditions

In a field of truth
He lies, entangled in conceit
To win that which he desires –
It is only but a game.

Mind not his mental means, nor manner –
Be he sane or psychopath –
But the strategy by which he plays:
Cheat, deceive, manipulate,
Overcome, and conquer your carnal estate.

Twisted tales, spun with golden thread
Crafted by careful practice and confidence
The master of charisma in his own head
Is no Eros, in any sense – Erosive, yes –
He is only what you want but for a brief moment
Be suspicious and expect this ever-real Narcissus.

A lecher he is
A Greek God in wish –
Nay, he only lives in the fantastic,
Though he roams about us
In a surreal bubble,
Where love comes to pass,
He is ever-so subtle

He markets himself as a Rembrandt,
Although more a moke* than baroque,
Something which he could never see
Staring into his reflection so blindly.
At a cost, worth more than his fee,
This cheap knockoff of Sal Dali,
Would sell you his love
For a buck forty-three.

Beware the lecher.

Our footsteps echo through ancient halls,
                where here is everywhere
        and every time is now.

Caesar’s twin-edged conquests are our own
                as is Brutus’s fickle knife
        and Marc Anthony’s cunning speech.

Plague steals across our Europe
                like a remorseless highwayman -
        rosies all ringed and falling down.

We wait in Wien's Kärntnertor theater
                for Schiller’s An die Freude    
        to shine anew in Beethoven’s score

and are ushered in at Menlo Park
                where Edison's tungsten faintly glows.
        Tomorrow will bring sun to the night.

There's Jonas Salk at his microscope.
                One more test will crack the code
        to banish polio's scourge.

But nature’s caprice strews logs on our roads.
                We are dashed by a Tsunami’s rage.
        Katrina’s torrents have swallowed our homes.

Prides of warriors wade rivers of blood  
                and Darfur bullets tear into our chests.
        Nuclear Toys ‘R Us shelves are fully stocked.

We are the heirs of each triumph and treachery.
                We grasp the keys to tomorrow.
        What have we done? What must we do?

As here I sit,
I await the next hit.

Three men against one,
The pain has just begun.

As I lay under this unyielding sun,
I wonder how this was begun.
Surely it was all just a bit of fun?
And now there's no where left I can run.

There is no way I can win,
And yet I've never given in.

And so the moment they relent,
That's when I begin to vent.

As I rise and begin to stand,
"What are you doing?" they demand;
That's when I strike, quick as a viper and sure as a ******,
I hit out right at his jugular.

There may be no way for me to win,
But at least I've erased his stupid grin.

I step back for a moment,
I see the man collapse from the blow I sent.
Now I know that they'll be hell bent,
To make sure that all my blood is spent.

For sure I'm in a worse position than before,
But that's all my prides ever been good for.

There is no way I can win,
And yet there's no way I could ever give in.

This woman I fell in love with
is an enigma, none like her,
I admire her, this quite night.
Flames of desire lick me
when I even think of
her voluptuous softness
wearing shimmering black.

She prides in what she is,
doesn't pretend
as someone else.
Darkness is her
without any apology
though she owns a brilliant
cosmic jewelry shop;
only she can display diamonds
looking different in every minute,
each more dazzling than the other.

Without any arrogance or
posturing that suggests invincibility,
she surrenders all she has,
when sun demands it,
with the confidence that
when she'd  come back
after a hiatus, she will be no less.

Broken hearts are taken for granted,
their sunny shapes are torn;
their tiny windows are doomed and forlorn.
Broken hearts are never noticed,
they are no more than abandoned,
they have never existed;
as far as people can recall,
or as long as their sanity allows them to.
their truths are denied,
no attention are they given by their lords.
Broken hearts are injured,
their wounds probably incurable,
their eyes are now full of hate, pain and recurrent danger
that will never be healed.
Broken hearts have been deceived,
tricked, stained, disregarded, and disgraced
without ever being able to be fixed or retuned.
Their minds have been scattered,
their fragile little fingers that feel sore,
and nobody with their vanity will ever know.
Broken hearts feel lonely in their loneliness,
sad in their sadness,
cry in their doom,
weep silently their misery
in the center of their darkening rooms.
Broken hearts are never known,
even when they are truthfully true,
even when they are as subtle as glue,
when they feel that they are nowhere in blue.
But above all,
their honesty is graceful praised,
their patience is sacred graced,
their courage and loyalty regarded embraced.
They were lied to and thrown away,
they were betrayed and laughed at night and day,
they were kicked out and are now withering away.
They have hands that are now crippled,
their eyes have lost their cheerful sight,
their smiles are false and sort of painful.
Their waves are nothing but smoldering red anger
in their murky oceans,
they roll and roll without ever glancing backward,
and soon they forget who they really were
and embarrassed are them,
deciding to turn away and never bother to look back.
Their carols are never sung,
their chords have now flown away,
their melodies have not any single remembrance of themselves.
Broken hearts have desires that are never fulfilled;
destiny that is never reached,
and craves that are never satisfied.
But truly,
their devotion and humility as sacred and holy.
Unfortunately,
everything is just never more than unfair to them
as if they deserve to be humiliated
and for their prides to be consumed
and cruelly torn
into pieces of irreparable tears
when their deserted nights appear
and the massive lies start to bring out their fear
to haunt their very innocence,
their breaths, and flashes of sadness.

I am so much happier when I’m with you,
and as a women who prides herself
on being independent,
that is a terrifying thought;

but what I’ve come to realise is
I’m not loosing myself,
instead I’m becoming a better me
through spending time with you.

She prides herself an hourglass
yet never long enough, this body of time.
sharing conversations,
you'd otherwise be sharing with the wine.
It made the day's last leg's cross over
in my mind.

Be more than only snapshot dearest friend.
You are a focus in the lens, who lends
her smile.
And though, a distance shears
word salads by the mile,
just know the love you bring
stays with me all the while.

Chest stews jealous behind the sun-risen eyes of confusion.
Beaten and drugged to midnight without touching overt illusion.
Humility is shaken false when the sun set tallies.
I’m still subject to the vacillation of peaks too valleys.

My peak is but a broom in an infant’s hands.
Troubled by the dust of a valley’s demands.
That claims to sweep what I could never pain…
Paint me the wandered sheep that wore lion’s mane.

I feel the viper of ignorance in the bump of a stranger.
Venom through my pride peeks invisible danger.
Whose reflection is my shadow radiating a contusion.
Vanity is not fair till it's understood delusion.

For I knew not when I didn’t in prides hindsight sip
My Master will always humble silence to thy lip
Brings meaning to the scars of my landscape
Plowed, reaped and sowed for a son’s sake.
………….
I Love Jesus

Who am I?
I am the Skeptic type,
Surfacing placid as each side creates waves,
Pulling on heart strings for their own self ameliorate,
Heated controversy focusing on Health care, Religion,
and Hunger debates,
Inevitably resulting in ******* up charges for war to undertake.

Equality's repercussions leaving our freedoms at stake,
While inflating our Economy
only the rich take the cake,
Consistently keeping the poor at bay,
One resolution would be to properly educate.

Before you sell into the poison they produce to control and degenerate,
Look into the disputes staged to manipulate,  
Open your eyes and see we're being left with no other options but to obey,
For when they deny you your right to bear arms The Constitution goes up in a fury of flames,
As we sit back and watch as they replay the tape.

I am free yet I am caged,
Caressing the bars of black and white mind frames,
Constructed to destroy thought and leave the masses divided
in a collective state of confusion as their questions remain,
I no longer associate with my neighbors today.

Empathy is a far cry full of ache,
Frayed by the misconception that lives are part of a game,
Monopolies and greed breed nothing but hate,
As a silenced homeless Veteran plays his violin drowning in pain.

We're left searching for some kind of circumvent,
In a country that prides itself upon convenience,
Our golden gates are not always what they seem,
If born into poverty your chances can seem some what foreboding.

Think of the future aside from your own
and find hope in opportunities for the much needed change we all see and know,
With so many imperative predicaments there is plenty of room for growth,
Obstacles only providing the likelihood to overcome and to approach ,
For strength does not accumulate for those who are not familiar with struggle,
With all these unresolved culminations there is plenty to live and fight for despite your troubles.

Music in my soul, in my veins, in my ear,
Rhythmic hunting, a low pulse that only I can hear.

Separate seats, separate lives,
A brushing meet, competing prides.

The force pushes, always peering,
The pressure mocks, its grin is leering.

Crawling upwards, invading the interior
Onwards it claws, I’m nearing hysteria

My stomach churns, my throat is tight,
My chest burns, my mind alight

Souls all around, but souls are worth dust,
Empty and worthless, ****** dry as a husk

Eyes averted, pointed blank gaze
Still my mind flames, calm in its rage

The stations flicker by, spiralling down the hatch
The names pass too quickly, too quickly for me to catch

Closer to home, a new home I’ve built,
Borne out of upheaval, decorated with guilt

Stepping towards a future, try to shoot from the hip,
But it’s all a façade – loneliness has me in its grip.

There was once a famous painter who, to express his love for a woman, cut his own ear off and sent it to her. We all know the story. Even I, a pretty eccentric and extreme person myself, thinks that's way too extreme. but hey, nothing says I Love You like a ****** chunk of cartage stuffed in an envelope right?

A couple days ago you told me to do something that scares the **** out of me, at least once everyday. No, I didn't cut my ear off or anything like that. lol. but that night I sat and thought about things that frighten me but to no avail. I wouldn't say I'm fearless, but I'm a person who enjoys taking risks and prides himself on surviving the most horrific experiences. There aren't many things in this world that rattle me. I'm not superstitious, I have no interest in what others think about me, and pain is only temporary. Well, Physical pain. Pain of a more emotional variety can last. Years even. An intangible, constricting weight of question. A couple thousand needles of "What if?". A potent venom of repeating "I wish". The things that spread your eyelids apart in the middle of the night. When you tell your body "No." When you squeeze your pillow and mumble to your own thoughts "No, don't you dare wander to that place." When you plead with yourself to forget.

Nights like this are the reason why I find it hard to write you, the nights where I don't sleep, can't sleep until I write you and even though most times I don't send the messages, (Or they get sent to you accidently baha) I'm gonna send this one to you. Because it scares the **** out of me.

Starting is the hardest part. It's been probably forty five minutes since I've started the occasional ritual of tossing my bed covers aside and pacing around my room tenderly as if I'm scanning the ground for the words I need, as if I could just pick them right up and hand them to you. However, I always find nothing. I skip every other step on the way down to the computer and sit gingerly in my lame floral chair, watching my cursor blink against your empty message box. It speaks to me. "Blink type something ****** Blink." After a few minutes of typing and erasing and typing and erasing I thought "This is stupid." Then I remembered the story about the painter. It made me think. People have always done stupid things for love. Sure, I'd be embarrassed and vulnerable and possibly even having you meet me with a spine shattering "sigh", "This is getting old." or even have "What is the ****** point?" hammering my morning thoughts. But Hey, At least I'm not mutilating myself.

Well. I tend to beat around the bush a lot, but at this rate I'm just stepping on the twigs. Dancing on the torn leaves and such. I'll stop. I have some things I want to tell you.

I won't let my guilt stop me from saying what I want to say this time as I've done many times in the the past. I think that's what holds me back, the guilt? Whatever.. I mean you're over it, I should be too. I know you're over me too, but that won't stop me either. Des, I miss you. I miss your voice. The medicine in your laugh, the discipline in your scowl. The way that we'd talk all through the night till one of us unked it. The several stones that would plop in my stomach when I would get a text from 'Desire Deslonchamps', Your french *** name (It's so **** btw) I miss the armada of butterflies roosting on my ribs whenever you'd tell me you adored me. I miss our conversations, you have always reached higher than anyone else I have ever talked to intellectually and I mean that quite literally. it baffles me how no matter who else I was with, they were never good enough. That I was always comparing them to you, and thinking "Des wouldn't have said that." or "Des would have loved this more." No one is as funny or talkative or as tender or as wild as you. I would stuff every single one of those girls in a shredder just for even 5 minutes with you.

I look through your pictures all the time, I feel like a teenager sifting dreamily through a magazine looking at some chiseled, oiled up celebrity that doesn't even know she exists. I read everything you post, I worry when you seem sad, I laugh when you laugh. Everytime Facebook tells me you've uploaded and new picture I always go look and end up sighing like a ***** maiden. Excuse the metaphor but it's true. haha.

A couple days ago, when you were telling me about your ex, for a second I kind of thought you were talking about me... and I got so excited, I really thought that you still felt for me and that maybe I hadn't completely lost it and that you weren't jaded or whatever, but when you showed me what you actually did write him, and everything and... ugghh, I just felt so stupid. Sososososo stupid. I don't know why... and I know you still really like him and everything, but I just want to let you know that the level of emotion and personal attention I have for you is strong and consistent. I'm not saying that no one will ever feel for you as strongly as I do, But I'm saying that it'd be pretty **** hard to top it. I just want to let you know that this will never go away. I have tried everything short of a lobotomy but I can't ever, and will never forget about you. I know how foolish it is, but there is no way I could ever help it. Humanity help me, it's literally impossible to knock, like that crazy romance **** You see in movies. It's unreal.

Desiree I think about you more than I think about Sableyes and Adoring fans and Acid trips and soft melodies. All of the things I daydream about. Whenever I daydream, I always add on the wishful thought of someday sharing whatever I'm dreaming about with you, or just sharing me with you. I laugh hysterically in my head at the thought of ever being what I once was to you again, a laugh developed by my pride to stifle my cries and soak up my tears before they ever surface. No, I'm not sad all the time, just when the thinking reaches a fever pitch. Sad isn't the word, more like frustrated. You know me better than anyone on this planet, seriously, You know that I have problems communicating my feelings properly. Most of the thinking is me trying to put words together for you. Though I usually don't come up with anything until I actually do write you, There's always been one thing that I've wanted to tell you that I could never form an appropriate form for and even saying it now would do it an injustice because I can't make these words jump off of the screen and wrap it's arms securely around waist, or whisper quietly in your ear or emulate the disparity of them properly, it's all I got. This xenomorphic phrase.

Physical pain may be temporary, but I'm still too much of a ***** to cut off my own ear, So these words, They're all I have left. The only thing that I can give to you with every bit of a human heart and genuine honesty I have...

Desiree Deslongchamps,

I love you.

“She prides herself on her strength and steel,
but she cracks like porcelain now and then.
She knows how to piece herself back together,
but covers her cracks and chips in layers of glue.
She is composed of fire and compassion,
but she struggles with doubts and insecurities.
She burdens herself with the weight of the world,
but carries forward bravely, determined to make her mark.

She takes the reigns and her presence screams command,
but she hates the burden that comes with being in charge.
She knows leaderships rests deep within her bones,
but she resents her authority and responsibility.

She builds armor out of sharp wit and determination,
but she doesn’t dare smooth out any of her jagged edges.
She understands that she is the hero of her own story,
but recognizes even heroes need saving sometimes.

She burns soft and bright like a star in the night sky,
but she explodes violently like a supernova from time to time.
She scatters herself like stardust across galaxies in the aftermath,
but she is phoenix incarnate, reborn timelessly from her ashes.”

Is it really any wonder
That we court the God of war ?
When a man offends in innocence
With imprudent comments poor,
When the slightest altercation
Leads to seeking of red blood,
And grudges borne with vehemence
Paste protagonists with mud.

Why is it that we tip toe
Through the fragileness of life ?
How is it that you rage
When he glances at your wife ?
What generates the jealousy
Of competitive bright flame
And activates the trigger
In the deadly baiting game ?

Why should we seek redemption
When the way is set in stone,
When antagonistic temperament
Is the customary way home,
When the flare of angry attitude
Leads the bearer to abyss
And inevitable conflict
Throws all reasoned thought amiss ?.

Reflect on how protracted
Is the winding road to love,
How long to place the building blocks
Of friendships’ hand in glove,
How gradual the process
Of steady cultivating trust
To the wondrous actuality
Of a brother bond that must.

Why does the God of war surmount
Mans best and dearest quest
To find a peace and harmony
Despite discords’ very best,
To live his days in certitude
Sidestepping risk of harm
To work toward tomorrows’ dawn,
And evening’s soothing charm.

Shatter prides absurdity
To dare to breach the norm,
To reach aloft for courage
And scale the unknown’s form.
To rail against mans’ enmity
To flail against his foe
To conquer human natures‘ worst
This beast of war must go!

Marshalg
Victoria Park Tunnel
21 June 2010

Get that hate off your heart and get me off your mind
No longer your concern so lets move on with time

Cuz there's No time to go backwards, we tried this before
You made it all clear that the real you is sore

Your ego had shown and your prides on the floor
But you took so **** long, now your prize out the door
...
Im not trying to boost but you could have lived lavishly
Cuz no matter our bank account, no matter what tragedy
We kept our heads up, and your soul was so attached to me
But that one last night i had you, you had did me savagely

And i accept that, matter fact i respect that
I told you to stand up for yourself and helped you grow, U can't neglect that

But when your fam ask what happened, do you tell them all the truth,
tell me what words did you really use to reflect that?

Tell me what words did you use to help you think that
What you said was how u felt cuz if u think back

Just one day before, we walked out by the shore all in love but i guess you didnt sink that

I guess you pick and choose what you want to marinate
But thank god, cuz this really could have been a later date
We were three years deep in and i let it sink in
That with you i could never see my heart break

But that broken heart and shade that you threw was never worth it

And im not playing innocent, i threw shade, i got my word in

But that really does nothing
So can we please stop the bluffin
Cuz the both of us knows we dont deserve it

The both of us cant really bare the burning
The hate in us cant stand to feel us hurting

I never wanted it to go this way,
though it was my actions
that catalyzed the death and
the following internment of our love.

I never meant for it to be like this.
We have our prides and our
angers and our unbearable
emotions.

My finger still won’t bend from
that parking kiosk. I was so mad.
I don’t know if I would’ve jumped but
*******, it was a toss up.

I am sorry you saw that side of me.

The demons that normally vent out
through the line breaks of the poems
as they line the walls of my computer
numbering the thousands.

You should read them
all some day. Perhaps gain
a little perspective into
how I am who I am.

I never meant for it to be like this.
This broken record of arguments
and excuses and tears that never
seem to fully stop.

You’ve put your guard up.
Distance is a distinct enemy
of love, so is pride/anger/regret.
—Insert the adjective you wish—

I hate myself for you.
Most likely more than you do,
though you would tell me that
it isn’t possible.

Your anger is beautiful
to me, even though it
is the loaded gun barrel
lodged between my teeth.

Your passion for us was
something I have grown to
envy, even seek to emulate,
now that I understand it.

I never showed you how
I felt, never let myself believe it.
Now I am begging for a
second/third/fourth, chance.

Perhaps the boy has cried
wolf one too many times,
and now must face the inevitable
jaws of a love now lost.

I never meant for it to be like this.
Stuck in this terrible place,
this awkward stalemate
between loving and letting go.

Hatred lust and anxiousness so we meet again, hatred saying nothing while my lust moves with the wind. Only after post disaster does my anxiousness attack, finding blades with finer points deep inside my back. I see the sun when time to run in fields with pens of sheep. Where wolves will hide in smaller prides to eat their flesh in sleep. All the love i had malformed to hate, inside my heart does ache, outside the spark is fate.

My friends are always here, cold or hot shoulder. His love was like the burden of a boulder on a cup holder.

Love too much? how does one do that? How did i love you so much that our enchantment flew back? how did I who wanted us high like the sky watch us die while you ascended without me i watch you fly.

My friends, mal or bueno you are here and i love you, you stayed without fear.