I hear the tone of a thousand galaxies. Only sweet angels shed whimsical tears

    Some thoughts form bubbles in the mind, and with a pop, they are gone. Prancing further and further from the fingertips of those who wish to comprehend them.

      They still their breaths and try as they might, halt their lungs but thoughts are fickle things that only come when one does not call for them. This mind experiences assorted thoughts, some plunge like rain from the sky, rapidly and frigid, with no notions of passing by.

While others are sweet and delicate murmurs, some thoughts hold nothing but lie full of animosity and self-hatred, there are those few certainties that cling to our senses like moist cloth on heated summer days.

       And there is a singular truth that none can deny. Through these sights, soaring belts of asteroids and the birth of newly hatched nebulas can be seen.

     For these gazes see freshly pickled specks of lights dispersed across the realms and heed the sounds of a thousand galaxies.

And in these galaxies, holds dust and nothingness

In a kingdom full of inclemencies my hubris does not fail me
Profuse and Fierce, Some may call me arrogant
'Hubris!' chuckled I, 'Yes Hubris!'
It's a recording of my failings.  
'It's that amorality,' I muttered.

My hubris is my substratum towards my nescience.
It is that aspect that will lean me towards drowning in the sea of my own incoherent imbecility.
It's a deep program in my faulty code, a nightmare towards monks.
It's the ink on my arms, tattooed to my soul.

'Hubris!' chuckled I, 'Yes Hubris!'
It does not fail to show in my wording.
It's the ferry to sea, the net in the ocean.
It is limber as it is inventive, with every exception.

It has no ingenuousness, it is unlike modesty and threatens to surmount me.
It's a sandwich in which has caught every hitch of breath, it leaves me bewitched, no certain pitch that I can tell afore it chokes me.
It leaves no correspondence with those around me, too caught up in my own fantasies that I can no longer celebrate or verbalize felicitously.

Many times I wished that I preserved my receipt so that I could trade in my Hubris for something a little less mucusless for it is something akin to Judas, and I cannot utilize it for anything utilizable.

If I could somehow find a way that would lead me to a resilient recuperation. I would judge that to be more utilizable then this Hubris that encumbers me. No matter how many times I beat it down, it war's like a lion and a bunch of tourists on a safari.

If only this grotesque lion-like hubris was shot by the doter of a hubris poacher. Every generation would be gratified and they would find that it is much more facile to coerce without that unpleasant Hubris.

Of course, I suppose in a way hubris could be utilizable in some situations that required it. If I somehow found a way to trade my hubris for something like modestly and found that I missed my hubris quite dearly. I would laugh at my incoherent imbecility and perceive myself to be remotely mad!

These ravings of my hubris I'm quite sure because I found it so consequential to indite a poem of stark preposterousness. In a contingency like this, I suppose my hubris is getting quite polished, so sharply able to strike down any sense of modesty.

I conjecture this is the terminus of this arrangement, please omit my hubris for a moment. I suppose I should give you some tea afore I dose myself in a salubrious dose of radiation.

There is a boy whose name is grain,
In a place of mental pain,
And he sits across the room,
And he looks at me.

There is a boy named grain
In a place full of pain
And he sits across the room,
And he watches me.

There is a boy who is grain,
In school
And sits across the room,
And he stares at me.

A boy called grain,
In school,
And sits across the room,
And he stalks me.

Grain who is a boy,
In school,
Sits across the room,
And has pictures of me

Grain,
In school,
Across from me,
Annoys me.

Hey you gal, com’ere

You notice seh, when word gone round,
And people affie frown
and deh look pon you.

Mi nah say nothing.

When word gone round,
And people affie frown,
And deh look pon me,

Why yeah fi see me?

You haunted or summthin?
Vanilla on cream,
Think she prettier then me,

You nah nothing

Hey goodie, with your white gal ‘air
Only thing you better dan me,
Is ******* that wood like a lolly lolly pop.

Why you affie be so bad mind

You have a sad mind,
Two tiny ***** knocking side to side,
Coming up to me, with ya smile in hand,
Yeah lie, yeah lie

Me nuh see you,
you affie be somebody fi see

Hey you gal,
you think your better then me?
With ya boyfriend
Who ya naw even see, see

Bringing home hickeys,
And deh gurls seh she nah even mean dem.

Hahahahahaha
Go **** back ya moma
Ya, luckier then me!!!

What are lies and why are they white?
This question throws me on an endless plight.
Leaves me wondering for hours and hours,
Don’t throw **** at me and tell me it’s flowers.

If I ask you a question, you better answer me straight,
And if you don’t, it’s a little too late,
I don’t accept lies that are white.
You have a better chance of turning into a hermaphrodite.

Roses are red,
Violets aren’t blue,
I don’t need your opinion,
Who the **** asked you?