A man of the many drinks, till the ends of the night the drinks drink him.
From the past, brought up in the mud.  Forgive the dirt I bring as your present.
Be unsettled with so, but don't mind my stay for I'm just the part time resident.

A couple pennies for thoughts, a few dollars for dreams and visions.
Speaking in the silence of the dreams to be.
Still to many ways to lie and many more reasons.

Like ever changing seasons, can't really stick myself to being one.
Warm hearts in the cold winters, cold and gloomy smiles across the summers of beach fun.

On the journey of life, but where to go.
Aching feet, I'd have walked all round in circles.
The troubled heart at times, but in my eyes none would know so.

The abstract pathways make no sense but still could clarify the motion.
As like the waves of sea's, moving back and forth without no ease.
Often a soul of lost, drowning in the depths of a bottomless ocean.

Like action movie scenes, often days are over-exaggerated.
Some things in life are way more than than they seem to be with added details.
Commonly overlooked by a downfall eye and the lies incorporated.

Alas, is the Abstract pathways, acting as a map to guide you nowhere.
How so unfair.

May I be lost for time,
but not lost for you
Lost for words
but not lost for loving you.

Treat any the same
no matter what the race.
Despite what we chase,
why can't we chase away all racism?

(Chase for a better world)

Put a bit of myself in these words.
Crazy thoughts flying in the air with the birds.

Hate this crazy dream I sleep in.
Someone else take the pain for your own keeping.

What is existence,
Heart fights the resistance.
Resistant to the acids plaguing my mind to be stable,
Flipping my mind channels through each cable.

& I'm not too able,
To be the space to fill your entire table,
I'm unable.
Mind's disabled.

I hear whispers in my sleep,
The Demon feasting on my dreams. He's getting into deep.
& in case you wondered why I'm a bit on the edge
I fear of doing wrong, my friends make of me Dead.

Who did the killing, I held the knife.
I slit my throat to take my life.
Bled on the sheets to leave a stain.
A strong acid I wish to take, to **** the pain.
I'm really insane.

My mind's picture is of  washed  up colours.
Eyes see girls as any I could easily pick as pretty enough flowers.
A coward when looking into the mirror.
I could fall to the type looking for help in a glass of beer.

It's a medical,
Drinking it well on the regular.

It's a bitter taste that burns my tongue.
If I go drunk tonight, hope I don't do you any harm.

Follow your formation,
On the acid.
Mind vacation.

A taste of life:
green mangoes dipped in
vinegar and salt
None distilled moments
rising worries on top your head- a malt
You keep blaming yourself;
worried and pressed strain on cheeks
Squeezing in a sting of pain
as the first and long taste of something sweet

Pools of spit
flowing unrest in the society
of oppressed people
How not to speak in a place
that has you swallow a needle
The lethal poison of dying tastefully
******* bullets—oh what a steel
They robbed your opinion, with their
own stronger opinion over yours
It's always the problem of a bigger
world; you can never speak against a first
world country. Clench your jaws, and grab
a gun— we're about to fight their wars

The taste of blood
you taste out of a ****** nose
We're torn in our hearts, torn in
our clothes—killing the look of wearing
bullet holes
Gold digging in pockets by the mines
of minors—still a bunch of hoes
Growing up in the dark gardens made of
weeds. You've crowned yourself in shame,
but call yourself king and queen

The taste of failure in the world
the taste of expired goods in a first bite
An approach to running into conclusions,
delusions of subtle uneasiness, of seeing a
roach in a supermarket pie

It's like wanting to die, but not having the
means to afford a less painful suicide
So you keep pushing on in this distasteful
life —dying inside. It all tastes so vile!

Why won't my tongue go numb
to the displease of not tasting success
Failure feels like a chilli cough stuck
in your chest. Depends on how well
you can cope with being depressed

You'll acquire all the tastes you
like, but also know so well the tastes
so vile of life. All acquired tastes

Bright ideas of fools,
an acquired taste.
Guessing I was a tool,
for seeming *******.

An acquired taste for success
has my lips shaking
To acquire success in life,
is to achieve what you make.

Make something of yourself,
something along the lines of being great
And of course,
be something different. An acquired taste.

The song of your heart calls
my ears by your chorus.
I've heard the cries of a new litter,
Cries of their mother's milk,
yearning to be heard.

So I've heard a familiar cry of my own
in my soul.
Darling do you hear my love's  
calls and yearns?

Under the glory of the Sun,
we've been burnt to the very hurt.
It hurts to be alone,
never to taste love on the lips.
Instead we've tasted a lust of
power and sin.

O darling where to begin?

From the first stretch of time,
The first depth of love,
the first Man and Woman.

An apple of their eye,
but not of each other.

Serpents will whisper desires in our hearts.
Far it being the desire of one another.
My sights of you seemed to change.  Yet for long I've seen you exposed.

It all went so wrong.

What does the future now hold
for all man kind?
What does the Lord hold
for us in his great plan?

Please don't misunderstand me for being so blunt,
but I can't help but feel like the sun and moon
are in cahoots to taunt.
Their tears will fall together,
marking the warmest winter I've ever known.

If I don't wake up tomorrow,
don't think I'm running away.
I'm just sleeping through the pain,
drowning in my tears every day.
If I die, it's not for me, but for others to live.

I've given my all, but it seems like I've only received a little.
I fear that you've stopped listening to me,
and now my prayers are just a riddle.
I've questioned love, but you've yet to answer me.
So please, care for me last, and forgive me
if I'm being selfish, you see.

I've never been one to think for myself,
always putting others first.
But now I just want to be heard,
to have my words not go unheard.
I wish to be seen, for people to understand
what I really mean.
But time has run out for me,
and I'm left wondering how to trust when trust is empty.

Living is just a slow walk to death,
and my dreams are just constant nightmares.
I follow the rules of my wake, but I'm always
looking for a way to escape the snares.
It's hard to keep myself together, living under the weather.
My future depression has its roots in the past,
and I know I should care more about myself.

But I'm stuck on loving everybody
else, giving my heart out for them to pick.
I try to stay above the high waters of every
relationship, but I'm just a sinking ship.
If love was once mine, I'm convinced I never had it.
I've given it all away to my friends,
enjoying the sense of pure insanity, I admit.

I'm the man everyone looks to lean on,
painting pictures for them to dream on.
Some days I hate it, but I do it all out of love.
I fake it often, but let me end up weightless
inside of being, like a dove.

The glee of joy
   Was a smile stolen under a cheek
A child of the sun as
   They brightly smiled at the:
Glass amber—fragile as time itself

    Precious became such a moment
And named her too
    Dear Precious, dearest first daughter
Now today born

I shall sow the land, tending the wheat
    Laying the gardens watered by my tears
    Placing at you reason to sing glory of provision
I’ll unmask the stars
   To make of a place to place your fears

Sweetly, sweetly shall my songs be as a quiet moon
   The cool of night—and whispers of good sleep
Oh shall I hold an ocean back, of the wrath of conquering
   For man would pleasuring want you as land
I pray it be the Lord who steals your heart
  Blessing your spoils to be tenfold to all others
Soon are you and I to meet

  So of this piece: saved are the words I have of you
The admiration of you my child
    Is you coming to be; soon, soon shall we meet

There's a story in my head, of a guy I'd like to call Joey. I don't know Joey that much, he's always been like a stranger. A stranger who happened to ask me to loan him a dollar. And somehow that meant we were now best friends,—and like all best friends, they start to invite you into every part of their life.

He invited me to his rehab sessions, those talks about his drug abuse. He invited me to his birthday party, a party of so few people. He invited me to get his haircut, which he desperately needed. He invited me to his first job interview, seeking moral support and encouragement.

As I reflected on everything that had transpired, I couldn't help but think, "all of this because I loaned him a dollar."

He invited me to his celebration of working for a full year, knowing that he had struggled to maintain employment in the past. He invited me on his church searching journey, never pausing to inquire about my own beliefs or religious inclinations. He invited me to accompany him on his first date, although all I did was drop him off at the restaurant.

And still, I couldn't help but ponder, "all of this because I loaned him a dollar."

He extended an invitation for me to join him in celebrating his first promotion after two years of hard work. He invited me to accompany him on his first business trip, assuming I would readily accept the idea of traveling with someone I barely knew. He even invited me to the hospital to bid farewell to his dying mother, whose battle with cancer had taken its toll. And of course, I was invited to attend her funeral, where I silently promised myself to remain strong and composed.

Amidst it all, I found myself repeating, "all of this because I loaned him a dollar."

He invited me over to share in his sorrow following the devastating break-up with the woman he loved, even though I couldn't fully empathize with his pain. He invited me back to his rehab sessions, sadly revealing that he had relapsed. He invited me to the hospital when a doctor called to inform me that he had attempted to take his own life. Upon his discharge, he invited me to his home, where I watched and supported him throughout his journey of recovery. And when he lost his job, he invited me out for drinks, though I wound up footing the bill.

Inevitably, I couldn't help but contemplate, "all of this because I loaned him a dollar."

Ultimately, he invited me to what would be his final event—his funeral. The demons that haunted him had ultimately taken hold, or so I was told. And there I stood, delivering his eulogy, my words resonating with genuine emotion and heartfelt sentiment.

I spoke of how I had unexpectedly become intertwined in this man's life—a relationship that began with two strangers. I recounted how I had been there for him in virtually every significant moment and milestone. And as a single tear escaped my eye, the overarching sentiment was clear: "I became a part of this stranger's life, all because I loaned him a dollar."

Bearing a smile that only visits in secluded chambers,
Veiled in a darkness as profound as secrets nestled in shadows,
Soft syllables of silence, misplaced amid the day's pandemonium,
Nightly reveries that drown themselves in the depths of a pillow.
I shudder at the thought of rest; an elusive tranquility we
fail to grasp,

The riddled enigmas etched in foreign minds,
And the plague of local trials.
The heavens hold their silence,
Their formless grey visage troubling my thoughts,
-I feel as washed out as the tempest of words
churning in my throat.

Vows echo in my heart,
While stale promises find refuge on my lips,
A spectator of the ceaseless struggle to survive,
Unfurling around me.

The steadfast, rooted in their words, knelt in submission,
I liken myself to a prayer, suspended in anticipation;
Waiting, ever waiting.

The world's burden bearing down on my gaze,
Weighing heavy with fatigue,
He bears so much, a lion's share he never asked for.
Once, I fancied myself a bloom,
Yearning for the dawn- the dream of a rose,

Yet I find solace in the thought
Of never awakening from this enchanting reverie.

My breath feels forced today,
almost as if the weight of the world is crushing
down on me, making it a struggle to inhale.

My tired heart beats with a heaviness that mirrors the
off-white shade of my worn-out Air Force 1 sneakers,
reflecting the wear and tear of my weary soul.
As I took a step into today, I found myself unable to walk,
feeling as though my feet were cemented to the ground,
paralyzed by the burdens of life.

And yet, despite the overwhelming challenges,
I hold onto the hope that even if I overstep my boundaries,
my worth as a person will not be diminished or erased.
My life, my soul, my spirit and very being are worth
more than any material possessions, including the worth
of my shoes.

|a raised prophet but without a million, a steel heart
easy for the stealing|

|a t-shirt stain of a tattooed wrinkled affair, a preferred
only of what his Mistress wears|

|and a sin of flesh, as that of both seem not to care
a joyous celebration of knowing its an affair|

Blowing gas,
the smoke of hell rests itself inside of my lungs
There's ash in my eyes, slowly turning into dust
my body is made of rust, from the metal making up my cold heart
As the saltiness I have for love, comes from chasing after someone,
and being so worked up by the sweat on my brow
By the touch of such a touchy subject; I still feel nothing,
but just this feeling of feeling so numb
My voice goes as deep as the pools of swimming thoughts,
and I'm not feeling shy to drink a bit of chlorine
I see everything so clear, clear as the substance in my bottle,
as with a free spirit, I'm not too shy to shoot a shot
And let me mix the odds with a bit Oz,
in my adventurous tendencies, clicking my glasses
to feel like there's no better place like home
But I'm at home, drinking alone, and writing out forgettable poems

      ..Penning out random thoughts,
           my metal health is only a mental note

Nowhere in between,
I tried to call the Lord
Trying to reconnect;
haven't been to church
-in a while

So I'm must be missing
a bit of service.

ring, ring, ring

Is there anything out
there listening?
   I know I'm afraid of
    being lost,- I'm still searching.

A.. a nation of great, surely this is our land.
Amongst us all is it's people, all many jewels of different colour and brand.

F... fought for this very freedom we bare today, that we got from fighting so long and hard.
Many chained and shackled, many fallen heroes, many more of them still bared.

R... righteous shall a nation like us stand through the test of time,
Hold dearly to yourself this land of many colours, aged to perfection like a glass of the best tasting wine.

I... in darkness we have fallen so many times, losing the worth of our very jewels.
Faced by the very controls of this man, all their policies and all the government rules.

C.. can we not stand strong together my brothers and sisters, stand strong and block out all our enemies as a great nations wall.
The world at many times may try to tear us down, but my dear Africa shall we not walk tall.

A... and as the days may pass a thousand times,
Yes we may lose many people, many lives but don't get caught up in all the lies.

For this is your home, were your mother feeds your mouth for your stomach to be so full.
So do not seek another hand to try feed you and take her place , don't play the other fool.

Speak proud of your nation, bless it well with your words,
For many spoils follow us, so many hopes and dreams flying in our airs like our beautiful birds

So my dear jewels of her Nation Great Africa,
May this Africa day be always the best.
Speak well of your nation, for you were born to be her people and surely not part of the rest.

This is, Our Africa

A book inside your eye,
reading pages of your history;
been working on your body,
And living unemployed;
acting like a grown woman,
kissing pretty like an
Innocent girl.

I should take a picture,
just to capture your heart,
cropping out all the issues,
put all emotions on record;
Skins made of golden brown,
so I can taste it's worth,
and my car seat still remembers,
you sitting there, with
all your skinny curves;

Kissing, like I missed you,
grabbing on, like I own you;
But you were never my girl.

Thinking by luck,
I could get a ****, to remember,
a feeling right before,
you go on to hit a long road,
to the places I'll never visit;
Less when I'm going shopping,
a couple Christmas gifts,
long distant kisses, and
all of those future wishes.

Betting we'd miss,
our own wedding day,
skipping the after party,
for another after party. Leave our
guests dancing, grab a piece of cake
just for the extra cream;
So I can eat it,
with you in between;
And call it our perfect wedding.

African child,
we were in love for a while,
living in the moments;
the few tears, and many smiles;
We said our last goodbyes
over a long phone call,
and it's only now,
they ask about you and I.

I'm praying you find better,
and find that perfect guy,
waiting for you, like I couldn't;
And I'll smile for you,
even if it hurts;
Clap for you,
even if it hurts;
And congratulate you both,
even if I can't find the words.

I'll be so proud of you both.
As we all gain something,
when we let go.
African child,
you made me grow before,
during, and the after of
when you were my girl.

                            A thousand thanks.

Coupled gazes,
I find myself united in this profound state of matrimony,
a tender embrace in the obscure origins of life.

The arrival of an African infant;
marked by the scorching touch of the relentless sun,
its complexion seemingly tainted by the flames.
All my imperfections persist, though remain unnoticed,
a surreal spectacle to the eyes of many.

Is it not the expected destiny of an African child?
A dusky guardian draped in the cloak of night,
do not judge me solely by my outward appearance,
for my brilliance emanates from within.

Dark skinned and gifted,
high on all my ideas and imaginations.
All that keeps me forever lifted.

Brightness in my smile,
ten thousand years of wisdom behind my eyes.
Like the motherland I live in,
dearest mother has birthed a precious child.

Kissed by the African sun,
always dreaming under it's moon.
It dawns on my pride,
as I rest in it's afternoon.

You're worth is the worthy one
you have inside.
Hold onto that,
carry with it your African Pride.

Would the wind still blow in your eyes,
staring at the sky?

Kissed by the moon, dark skinned in the day.
You blush, but it's just an awkward smile.
You bruise easily, but it's just another skin line.
Your heart is warm, keeping in the sun's ray.

Looked as being so different; as they'd say.
Your blemishes are pure to their appearance.
You beauty colour is made to have resilience.
No matter it's shade, be proud and put it on display.

                          ~Its your beautiful African skin.

I've read about bloodshed;
whether foreign or local by hands of same labour,
Tribalism; though something I haven't experienced,
I've felt it's affect. The very hurt of a neighbour.

History has shown us plenty, still the plenty
of hurt in our history we carry.
If these walls could talk; they'd seem lesser, and
quietened by the ground's bloodshed.
History taught us well into future, but affected the
present so badly.

Tears of loss, tears of tragedy,
tears of us, tears of brothers and sisters,
Are tears of all, us as one nation's family.

Tears of old, tears anew,
tears of past, tears of present and future,
Are the tears of another I shed too.

These tears on the grounds of present pastures;
I question how long generations we'll wait for
the tears to into laughter.

Sigh!

Letting off your despair,
looking ever so lovely today.
Let me run errands with my fingers
throughout your entire hair.

Those afro and curls,
how can I make you my girl?

What I see is what I get.
And once I have it, I won't regret.

Let go, and let go of your hair.

Seems wild to others, but tame in my eyes.
Running thoughts running in your hair,
telling me what's on your mind.

Going round and round with words,
tying knots to an issue with your curls.
Always to get on your nerves,
for speaking in vein of how I'm in love with your Afro & Curls.

What if I bite my tongue,
and don't actually bleed.
Rather forgetting how to breathe,
thinking shady thoughts under a tree,
I might leave.

And if I'm on that very trip,
what's the destination.
Is it lower than before,
right underneath my depression.
I have a lot of love to show,
but I'm too passive aggressive.

While falling away,
wondering when I might hit the ground.
Screaming inside my head,
but the empty silence is way too loud.
How I wound up like this,
is dependent on what falls under a cloud.

Storms of emotions,
overcast my many personalities.
As stranger to so many but
definitely feeling like one to these families.

And I like to rhyme my words,
trying to connect dots.
Aiming at my target audience,
shooting these many shots.
Maybe I just want my dark thinking
in everyone's thoughts.

Not to cast a shadow over you,
but a dark reflection of cause.
So give yourself a hand,
you all deserve an applause.
You've read into my dark thoughts,
of a bleeding pen as it draws.

So like now I feel empty
and worthless.
Only if and when I give someone their worth
I know what worth is.

A monkey's wedding: our elders told us
it was, each time it rained with the sun out.
Pink skies, white clouds, golden tears and
the good times of being young.

Tree climbing to touch the sky as high,
fruit picking, and stone skipping at turbid puddles,
The smell of after rains, wet grounds, dew tear drops;
all at the nights condescending condensation.

Chasing rainbows on rumours of Peter pan's hidden
treasures at the end. As a guileless manner supposed.
Sunlight creeping through cracks of clouds,
the remainder of light showers, reminisced in the mud.

Sculptures we'd try our best to carve,
playing house outside, under the upcoming sun,
And trying our best at reciting parent's love.

Tell me have you seen anything as beautiful,
as the beauties after the rain?

Tell me,
do you think about me  now, and then;
Do you think up the version of me from  
now, or then— either as a noun, or just  
as an afterwards friend?

Emotions crease onto another,
wrinkles in the heart—broken
But still in place; afterward I was stood
up by the door of your heart's place—at first
Enthusiastic; red cheeks of a child blushing
over cute callings. A blushing bride as it were;
under the wedding vale with teary eyes.

I loved you still...

Perfectly imperfect, your flaws are what
drove me crazy. For no definition was in them,
But they'd define a picture of your strength.
Every kiss leaving wet yearning lips, shaking
and scarred by our out of breaths.

I loved you plenty...

As with the little I could give; money, fame,
fortunes, & recognition from the public.
Only am I recognised by demoiselles, next to you.
For when we see what we could of had,
we'd seek it more than it gave us first attention.

I loved you joyously...

Beatitude; those warm fuzzies of being next
to you—thinking about you, longing for you,
waiting for you, crying for you, & praying for you.

I loved you darling...as still as the time
I must wait, plenty more than I can express.
Joyously in all my endeavours.

I could never stop myself, falling in love
with you again, again, & again.

I've fallen in love again.

Wide eye tears; crying all the same
—for the ringing memory bells that call your name;
all of the kisses in French are in Notre Dame, that
had placed a thousand stars in my sight’s eyes.

The blaring drums to the sum of
a sound of love — it was loud, it was rough, disastrous,
distant, and sometimes so longing; but also so caring,
hopeful, understanding, peaceful, building, and close
to my heart in the simplest kind. Vanilla like, still it
was a taste so hard to explain.

For that I am truly grateful, even if it felt brief,
I did get my plateful. So until my next fill of what
I get to feel so familiar: I look forward to falling
in love again.

In your eyes, a delicate pink hue danced,
Like a flower's tender blush, I had never seen,
Yet, I dared to kiss you, craving to understand,
To feel the enchantment that your lips could bring.

As time passed, you blossomed beyond that flowerpot,
Rooting yourself deep within the garden of my heart,
I nourished you with words of admiration and praise,
Expressing the immeasurable value you held, my art.

Your memory, a seed, lay dormant in my mind,
Buried in the depths of darkness, patiently awaiting,
Until the moment it would sprout and bloom,
Unveiling the love that within me was awakening.

I wasn't prepared to fall so deeply, so intensely,
A solitary florist, learning to tend to his own soul,
But with you, my love, I discovered a newfound purpose,
A garden of emotions, where our love would forever grow.

You're a 95, and I have 99 ways to show you love
Still four years behind, I could never afford your touch.
But I could teach you how to bite those words,
straight after I bite that peach.

And even if I walked a mile,
I could never be invited to be on those streets
But let's be honest, I love to kid around a lot,
so no wonder why you just call me a kid.

Daily old friend
like the newspaper prints,
We're making headlines
the stories of a previous generation
Imaginative,
each piece of us, a verse
Fact,
all that is cons and a Prose.

Inventive,
of design per our discovery
We've found to channel
the very skills birthed in us
To now control
those far hidden skills living remotely.

But that's if you're willing
to tell a vision.

Aspired,
to reach the many highs
Inspired,
by our heroes who've made it to their peak.
Hopefully we won't fall,
in season itself
But if we do, from our fall
let's grow again.
Find that step, and sprout out in the spring.

True heros story,  
knows many trials and tribulations
Legendary heros,
face legendary oppositions
Never a joyous read
in every chapter,  
But worth every page turn,
till you reach the conclusion.

Horses will run a mile,
but at the end of the day be stable
It's a consistent manner,
we all could follow.
Really if you're that willing and quite able.

Wish I had the knowledge to think straight inside a crooked world,
Or at least on the piece of wisdom that only exists. I kindly prefer.

Dear Sir, if you have the ears to listen, or are  you just ignoring my voice,
But if screaming to the Heavens would get your attention, I'm leaving you no choice.
Cause I'm left out onto the ground like pieces of black rose, and these feelings seem not to matter, but they'll gladly impose.

I kindly prefer for you to have the time to give me back some of mine,
Pay a little of my due on pieces of a silver dime, and stretch out the path I'm walking on from this thin line.

Dear Sir  you've seemingly took much of your time, leaving a lot of responsibilities behind,
And your not the type to hide, but don't act keen on it if it's only on your pride.
For you may think of me lesser for thinking you're no longer by my side.

And don't call me by my faith, a lot of it has gone to waste.
Instinctively hiding my pain behind a smile on my face.


So kindly good Sir would you take the time to move off your throne,
Lend the hand to aid upon my palm, and being a King with your crown, would you'd do what should be done seemingly calm.


So here's a reminder to you, thinking I should bring my affairs to your alarm.

...Alas;
life is the word in itself
we live long, knowing not everything will last

...Alas;
the ringing sirens of heaven's bells
to only hear redemption after a hell of a life
I've spent my best hours on one hell of a night
one hell of a high; to rise above all of my trials

And surely to an unsure
to pity a fool; leaving love for the fools
Alas by chance, love is exactly that
so too is life—we live life by chance
And only by chance are we to express this
gift/grief of life; all in letting out a sigh.

                                        ...Alas

he tried to be a loner—his demons
wouldn't leave him alone
caught in the action of girl's bodies
moving slow. swimming depths of
chlorine; and drowning himself in
alcohol

                           ...it's all so brief

A leaf in the wind;
was falling in the rain
(such heavy rain)

It's despair,
the story of a kid
(such a common story)

Who fell away from their peers;
as it's so lonely to be brave.

As poverty's coin flipped over;
soon dead on it's head.
Chasing any chance of wealth;
going round in circles,
Chasing it's tail.

With a gun of six;
shot, shot, shot, shot, shot, shot!
The weapon of man's hand;
that only revolves around death.

And I'd still ask the Lord,
to shine on our worth;
Despite of us being at our worst,
never lose the light of earth,
as we keep shinning our torches.

I'm just the born sinner,
Being doing this same gig for so long, not even a beginner.
Pills and potions can't fix me for the long run,
Really I've been playing in all the childish games that's not even fun.

Empty out my pockets and tell me what you'll find.
Try face the Devil upfront but he's sending cheap shots at me from way behind.
And it's been constant back and forth, I don't even know anymore,
They keep saying we all rich, yet sometimes you wake up feeling a little extra poor .

And this is an alert, somebody go ring the alarm.
And we don't fight much, but pushed to wall we could do to you much harm.
Tell all my demons to move out of my way, have no time to entertain you all.
Lest if I could change my name to be reborn like The Bible's outspoken Paul.

Still chasing dreams amongst the unchased. Feels so nice.
To know people could drop thousands of dollars on you but could never match the price.

That's just enough to hear before ears start to bleed,
And follow to myself to be the good role model to the next man. Gain all the skills to lead.

Cutting corners on the empty roads with your Bible in your back pocket so you come prepared.
Almost  all of us are going to Heaven some day, some of us earlier than most  but we'll meet you there.

Alert, alert, alert, hear it loud and proud.
Alert, alert, alert,  open your eyes for the things that need to be found.

You act as a fatherless child,
Far less better than your own pride
In amongst life's streets,
Crying dirt out of your concrete eyes
But even if taking my heart was as easy
As taking back all of the time,— I'd be stuck in the past,
As two beings living out of a bag, suckling on our dreams
Hanging off time, as we pass the time with painful laughs
Under the laces of when you feel so sure of yourself,
So full of yourself, from swallowing all of the fears you had.

Love is always a resounding banter,
Battering you into a nostalgic feeling,
But by the second and third attempt,
You'll still be comparing it to the first's feeling
As once upon a time, you were on my mind,
But what's a neverending story, is chasing after forever,
And ironically for us, forever is all but on limited time.

          XOXO, please cross me out of love, before there's.            
                                    another ex, I'd pretend not to know.

Dearly said,
dearly at times you're unheard
Only listening to the voices in your head

The irony of life is always so,
feelings of no worth in the world, even after
you die;— you're no worth dead to them, at all

The irony of life is so,
you feel like a failure everyday, even after
you die;—they'd say you failed at life when you chose to go

You don't need a shoulder to cry on,
or someone to give one to reply on
But the shoulders of encouragement to carry on;
especially with the weight of the world on your shoulders
You're longing to conquer mountains, but there's just
this dark hill made of the night's boulders

What's your pick, choosing which side to
fall off of your peak. Which stroke to use,
when you're swimming in thoughts so deep
As you're written in invisible ink,
invincible to your own brink; at an edge close to overthink

...truly who is sadder,
the pen, poem or their poet?

Oh the kind regards, in regards
to how an audience applauds isn't a genuine hand to love

...they've read your poem,
but won't understand.

They don't know enough, even as you're boldly
showing; they'll only see as another random poem

If I could die,
I could die for you someday.
When the worlds on fire,
burning in flames of denial,
Can I at least do something?

I really wouldn't mind,
to be on fire.
So just stay alive.

I really wouldn't mind,
if you could rise when it's all falling.
Just find the time,
the time to stay alive.

In due season, the yesteryears
of what once youth could be:

—I've been young in love
—an old soul, but of a young heart

Like as a child likens their time to being
plenty as when the sun is in their eyes
Our youthful days have come to set,
a flower in the skins of being a beautiful
fragile being

I'd be like you see of my nature,
twisting to sun of my creator
We are all beautiful flowers—
in the grounds of time, and life
Planted with purpose; we grow, we live,
wither off, and eventually die

                           ~This is all our lives

All that I have, isn't all that I wish to do.
Oh how the faithless are faithful to
being unfaithful.
As in turn; the ugliest truths are beautiful
to the ears of a true friend.
Oh how the rich have plenty to give. But what
more can they receive?
We value more; that we've slaved to pay;
but would treat differently, something for free.

All that I have, isn't all that I truly want.
Oh how the needs are so little to their wants.
And only in life's tribulations, do we then consider
all of our needs.
Oh how they know me for I, but not for me.
All that you have, others would want a piece.

All that we are, isn't all the words said to be.

I am all that I am;
is all of me.

Fear...

As passing mist;
smoke and mirrors of devil's
magic red right hand.
Under his ******* hanging coat;
hangs speculated thoughts and myth.

Fear...

Is all to self.

You are...
the authority that spoke all into creation,
the same power in my mouth to speak miracles into life,
a voice to the broken silence like a roaring lion;
the Lion of Judah in our hearts.

You are...
the thoughts to inspire me again, when enemies speak worry,
not like the promises of man, who will fail me in time,
your promises are eternal; for you’re not bound by the
limits of space and time.

You are...
the overseer of me when I don’t see myself,
the light of my heart in the dark backgrounds of daily life,
the softest whisper in the world’s chaotic winds,
the spoils of sufficient needs in my life and others,
the loving Father, Redeemer, and Holy spirit I have in trinity,
that has done so much for me.

Words aren’t enough to express all that you are to me.