FIRE! FIRE! BE GONE ****** FIRE, I HATE...

O heavens, I'm sorry... I- hmm. Look, it was only four years and a handful of months ago that we met first. Me taking a thoughtful step from the step of my back door.
That face so delectable and now so distasteful. You broke me, woman, you broke me.
I pondered for so long, the demise of our world. The inevitable freezing of a seemingly indestructible cosmos. The cascade of hellfire from heavens unknown. Oh and the uncivilized beasts from the sky. Wise beyond our years, dangerous in theirs.
You broke me you broke me, ***** of my dreams, you broke me.
Step away from mine, the ****** hands of murderers and devils. Take in yours the safety you dreamed.
For I am but a tyrant in your ethereal presence.
                                                        
These walls close too fast for such a man... I'm no such thing though.
Brother, oh brother quit being dead, incorrigible fool. Rise from your own heaven of concrete and leaden death. Stupid man.
She. She did this. Taking to your arms each night, returning with your scent. WE ARE ANIMALS YOU FOOL! Did you assume..? Never mind.
But still you lay, dead, foolish.
Gasoline, oh gee golly gosh the smell of gasoline. Sweet petroleum of these masters of ours. ExxonMobil, Shell Oil, BP (oh BP you fastidious harlot), BG, Premier and Chevron. I pray you all burn like my dear poor friend/fiend here. I pray to a non-existent God, of course.
Oh sweet embers, the fire, thee fire. *******, the fire. I hate what you have made of me.

A beastly man, bearded and uncouth. My tooth, my tooth.
My tooth it pains me on a daily basis. My gums are that of a ninety year old **** smoker. Black, rotting, stinking. Parallels of my life, I suppose. Teeth,  dreadful, dying, dead, deathlike, decaying, Dickensian, dark, damp, d... d- **** it. Years of poor hygiene, years I focused my full attention on my love, my life, my sweet innocent beautiful flower of the wild world and the wooded wonderland of Whinfell.

Now you have gone, I feel empty. No, I shall cease to make such mistakes in my off handed ramblings. I shall seek my thesaurus...
My dear love, now that you have deserted my soul and destroyed my world and very reason for living. I feel ever so depleted, hollow, cavernous and wanting. Sweet sweet child, I pray to my non-conformist God, that of imagination and speculation. The veritable Frankenstein of philosophical and spiritual distortion; I pray he guides you safely through these stormy nights and past the cliffs of disturbed memories. I pray he holds you close to his chest and reveres your silken thighs without touch.

**** ME, PLEASE GOD ****. ME.
The embers of my kin simmer to a pedestrian crackle. The cackle the cackle, my voice is a cackle and I hate it. Dried remnants and burned ones too. I can't help but smile as I remember running through the fields behind my home, where the thieves and the addicts roamed. Child like fascination of the lurid creatures dwelling within the brothel I called home. Whorish women, my curse, the bane of my something or other. Feeble mind of mine, it continues to let me down. Not too dissimilar to the bunches of balloons that decorated the cars of the local garage, waiting to be sold to prospective family-men and business men and men and men and men. Sweet men. The balloons, of course! I would sit on the deserted field and from a  distance observe the close of trading and the ceremonial cutting of ******* strings that freed the multicolored harlots of the sky, back into the sky. Only to be destroyed by winds, birds, planes, storms and the pressures of the atmosphere. Weak willed *******, the lot of them.

But you dear brother, of no relation. You were kind hearted and I point to where your charred heart lay.
You held me close and called me Elizabeth. Matriarchal dream of mine. You broke the seal of new technology, purchased from store upon the corner.  Multiple windows on my windows, each one a prospective client. You lucky friend, I choose you.
We were madly in lust. Madly in... lust. I cannot bear to bring the 'L' word from my cowardice lips. Lips that pleasure, lips that weave, oh lips you kissed daily. Masculine frame, strong father figure of which I am vacant. Let me lay with you once more, in my pretty dress and high heels. Let me pretend for a day that I am no man. That I, that I am your lady. Let me, let me, please let me sit with my legs crossed and hair dancing in the cool breeze and breath of yours.
Too many years I herd the pleasure through papyrus walls. Mother wailing and cheering for the lord. Grunting and creaking with the pleasure she felt. I enjoyed it so much. For that reason and many others beside, I chose a life.

Life so frail, life so pure
Stepping slowly
From the step of my back door
Closing behind me
and turning the key
I shall be home to you
As your lady.

Please do not govern for I am impure of mind.
Life's little scar ingrained in my skull.
Each and every maddening creature has led me, the narcissist, to this here concrete hell.
In which I shall say my final words,
and breath my final wheezing breath
For I have killed two men and a perfect woman today
And Long may they rest.

I wanta write a poem for the ages.
For the George Washingtons
of my generation.
I wanta write a poem for the ages.

For the Thomas Jeffersons
and the
Benjamin Franklins who
aren't afraid to dream of
words that haven't been
created
and things that have
yet to be
designed.
I wanta write a poem for the ages.

For the
Revolutionaries who
have yet to be
born.
For the Paul Reveres
who have yet
to take their midnight
rides
one if by land,
two if by sea.
one if by land,
two if by sea.

I wanta write a poem for the ages.

For the
modern day
Lewis and Clarks who
explored a land beyond
exploration's eye.
For the Sacagawea guides that
guide from a shining sea
to a sea of gold.
For the immigrants who
traversed waters of salty tears
made solely of their own fears.
I wanta write a poem for the ages.

For the slaves held captive
not by their captors,
but by their own fears,
hopes,
desires
and dreams.
Afraid to pursue a land
just slightly beyond their own
R          e          a          c          h.

I wanta write a poem for the ages.
For the conductors of the railroad
that was unseen.
The one that ran not on
coal and steam,
but the one that
ran on
Dreams.

I wanta write a poem for the ages,
for the Teddy Roosevelt
conservationists
and the Stravinsky
concert pianists
and the Maya Angelou
performers,
and the,
people.

I wanta write a poem for the ages.
For the soldiers battling
for a cause they didn't
even start.
For the lives that gave their
lives for a cause,
because they believed in
The cause.

I wanta write a poem for the ages.
For the Daddy who's still
looking for work,
For the Mommy who has
given up
Hope.
For the widow and
her orphan,
For the soup kitchens
that can't
stay open long enough.
For the failing
Economy.

I wanta write a poem for the ages.
For the mustached
man in Germany
rising to a power
ever Grand.
For the nations willing to
ignore it if they can.
For the day that everything
changed.
December 7th, 1941
will forever live
in infamy.

I wanta write a poem for the ages.
For the unconquered Jews who
fought back.
For Anne Frank and her
family.

I wanta write a poem for the ages
For the modern day
Martin Luther King
Jr.'s.
For the ones
who
Aren't afraid to challenge a
System designed to
fight against them.
For the
modern day
Claudette Colvins.
The ones who
aren't afraid to sit down
to make a stand.

I wanta write poem for the ages
For the modern day
Buzz Aldrins
who are
altogether underrated
Just
because they came in
Second.

I wanta write a poem for the ages.
A poem that speaks louder
than words
and goes beyond
generations.

So I wrote a poem for the ages.

every day brings
such magic
such disappointment

where did things go
so wrong

energetic shifts
female
male

exhaustion
weighs heavily
waking to
the patriarchal
*******

how weary
i am of
fighting the
status quo

one wonders
why others
opt
to check out
of this manifestation

deep deep eons
of exhaustion

tired of fighting
the contemporary
masculine mindset

tired of
swimming upstream

when did it become
so common to
dismiss
the sacred feminine?

all beings carry
within them
both energies

being guilty of
dismissing my own
feminine energy

i now pay the
karmic debt for
that way

painful after
painful
encounters

chips away at
my soul
the soul
incarnated here

weary is this soul
of interacting with
males
tied to the current
cultural norms in
most societies

while appearing
different
they quickly become
like all the rest

tired am i of
seeing the unlimited
potentional
in these small beings

it steals my energy
it constricts my soul

there HAS to be
another way...

one that reveres the
feminine....
in ALL

The mirror always laughs first
Spilling light onto imperfections
Alienated from the image in the dream.
A silent curse,
The accusation must remain to this world unrevoked.
Instead pretence must tissue tear stains,
To sundry up a surface glycerine.

Social man has broken all ties with nature’s earth,
He created machines capable of producing images
So he needn’t deny it.
Social Woman was always more comfortable inside
She expressed no claim of love for the landscape
Found no comfort amongst the soil
No romance laying in the dirt.

But yes, the mirror attacks.
The symptom is always one of weakness,
Of the self not having the power to leave itself alone.
The body distorts the mind at first,
Paving the way gradually for more active decline.
We hold it to ourselves to feel worth, or lack thereof.
You can’t sing the tune effectively, without first trying to think like you’re someone else.
Someone that same mirror fails to recognise.

Keep ahead of the crowd so you’re not held back
Expectations will ruin you more than your fears.
Talent is to others that which they lack
Mystery and purpose are all the mind reveres.

Could you imagine
What it might be like
To be a camera
You might see...

France

A family

Beautiful forests

But what if your owner was a serial killer
Then you might see...

Blood

Death

Pain

Yes... a camera is a daring job.

Watch from your fancy TV screen -
Hypnotized
as your illusions of choice atrophy
A trophy, at your feet
Conceived in rage
From the place where miracles abound

The Eschaton will Immanentize
Dark energy entities
emanating from every corner all around
Hi - Def Surround Sound

Hide - Death Surrounds Hounds
It will bring you to your knees
When the Earth and all its Majesty
Crumble at the hands of the One-Eyed Messiah
The one I despise
You are all deceived

And to him they will scream
"Save Us"
Disenchantment following
Falling victim to his folly;
False exalted flesh reveres no seer
Neither those seared by his imprint

The prevelance of his contrivance
an resemblance of penance
for lack of repentance

And I'll cry to the sky
For the impending hour is nigh
And all things will seem unreal
Perchance a dream

When the duality is truly realized
The wailing and lament
of innumerable disembodied voices
will dually harmonize

The masses will chant
Praying for requiem
And then duly perish
Silhouettes
Pendulously suspended by strings

I hear cruel laughter, I run and run,
Trying to get away from it,
Not wanting to hear it anymore,
But I still hear it,
And it's getting louder still,
Then I hear crying,
Is it my own voice?!
No, it is not,
Instead I see another man,
Who is wearing a red hat on his head.
He is crying, and begging for them to stop,
but they don't, they only act even worse,
toward the defenseless old man.
Then I see so many people spitting on the crying man.
Yet again, he begs for them to stop their cruelty.
Yet again, he begs for them to give him a reason.
But they don't stop, and they don't give him a reason.
In fact, it seems like his pleading inspired them to act,
Even crueller towards him, a frail old man.
Then they beat him, and torment him,
again and again. They use so many cruel methods.
And then he cries out in agony yet again,
Because he is afraid, because he is scared.
Because he wants to know why they are doing this to him.
Because he wants them to leave him alone.
And despite this,
No, because of this,
They continue tormenting him,
And then after a while of this,
He finally fights back,
And gets his revenge on one of them.
That tormentor's name is Antonio,
And he was one of the worst out of all of them.
For, to paraphrase this poor old man,
He, ie, Antonio, has disgraced me,
Sabotaged my bussiness, laughed when
I lost, mocked me when I gained,
Hated and mocked my nation,
The tribe of Israel, God's chosen,
The tribe of Judah, the Jews,
Thwarted my business deals,
Tried to turn my friends against me,
Tried to make my enemies act,
Even worse towards me, then they already do.
Why does he do these cruel things to me,
Because I am a Jew. Do Jews not have eyes?!
Do Jews not have hands?! Do Jews not have organs?!
Are Jews not human beings, like Christians?!
(They were already laughing, but this makes,
Them laugh even harder, for to them, the thought,
Of a Jew being a human being, just like them,
Is a joke to them, and a very funny one too.)
Do Jews not have senses, afflictions, passions?!
If you ***** a Jew, does he not bleed?!
If you tickle him, does he not laugh?!
If you poison him, does he not die?!
So if you wrong him, he isn't allowed to get revenge?!
What would you do, if you were in my shoes,
And either I, or any other Jew, wronged you?!
I know, you would get revenge on that Jew?!
So if you wrong me, I'm not allowed to do the same?!'
No, I am going to get my well deserved revenge.
The villainy you show me, I will repeat, much to
Your hypocritical outrage against it."
There is also another reason why,
He is so angry, and rightly so,
They also stole his daughter, Jessica from him.
Even worse, Antonio and Bassonio helped them do it.
So, with the law that he reveres,
He tries to get his revenge on Antonio.
Sadly, the law is biased against him.
Then he gets condemned,
And beaten, and punished.
Then, after taking everything else from him,
They take his faith from him, which was all
He had left that he loved. They force him to,
Convert to Christianity. He then cries out,
He then weeps, and this,
Causes them to laugh at,
That poor old Jewish man.a
Then they mock him,
"Silly Jew", they say cruelly,
"You don't have rights, only people have rights!"
They may not be using the same words,
But it's the same meaning,
Then the Jew says,
In his own words,
That he's a person too,
This makes them laugh,
Aw, he thinks he's people,
They seem to be saying,
In their own words,
And then I get upset,
How would you feel, I yell,
if he did this to you.
However, despite that they can't
Answer me, I feel like they have,
And they're telling me that,
he's a Jew, and they're Christians,
so he's an Alien, so they can be cruel,
Towards him, while he can't do anything
About it. What cowards those so called
Christians are, they bully an old man,
Who isn't allowed to do anything about it.
I want to cry.
I want to scream.
I want to stand up,
for him, for that old Jew,
who has nobody on his side.
But I know that they will never hear me,
For I am looking at a mirror,
A storybook, it's just a story,
About an poor old Jew named Shylock,
Who tried to get revenge on his
Worst tormentor, Antonio by
killing him, so Antonio wouldn't
Be around to hurt him anymore,
But he failed. And all because,
He's a Jew, just like me.
I'm looking at the past,
I'm looking at a storybook,
A world where Jews are aliens,
Second class citizens.
It isn't my life.
And that is a thing,
I am very grateful for,
And I cry for him, for I know,
that he won't be okay. For he is
plagued by those cruel Christians.
I cry for him, for I am a Jew too,
But I was lucky enough,
To escape being born during,
The time that story was in.
I won the lottery of time,
By being born in the
Modern day, the 21st century.
I was fortunate enough,
To be born in a time,
Where Jews are allowed to be,
Citizens, instead of being an
Alien, subject to Alien Laws.
As was the fate of poor Shylock.
It was a lucky accident,
For me to be born,
in my country, in my time,
And If I wasn't as fortunate,
As I am, as I truly am,
I could have been born,
Back then, in the story's time period,
In the Venice of his time, in the story,
Where I would have been treated so cruelly,
Without even being allowed to defend myself,
Thank goodness I wasn't born in the story,
For I have rights that poor Shylock,
Can only dream of, and longs for everyday,
Thank goodness that I'm not in the same position,
As poor Shylock, but I must study that time,
So it will never happen again.

Clashing at gold, is a folly surely,
As bashing at skulls; is a scarring thing.
Turmoil for those who weep but rarely,
ye have set aflame the fiery king.
He burns those who persecute under his wing,
Whom he reflects with a tornado flame.
His realm expands and as his subjects sing:
“Ye King Of Fire triumphant your reign.
Forever may you stay as king and all be tamed.”

He pardons all who try to be godly.
And he destroys those who are not trying.
The King Of Fire Singes the unworthy.
And protects those who are under his wing.
He commands the skies and the one sighing.
He always protects his queen just the same.
The flame he controls mirrors the stunning,
The force he utilizes reveres his name.
The force of ground, and fire and sky is his fame.

“I have let go of friends who are not friends.
I have let go of, “I love you’s” that leave the after taste of, “for now”.
I have let go of the men that want to crawl in bed with a woman black,
fantasized exotic.
I have let go of boy who reveres my loudness
But only when it doesn’t interfere with ego.
You mistake hubris for confidence and fail
to stand next to,
work next to,
build next to,
something more than real.
I have let go of woman who deems me not worthy of respect but
of her unnecessary redundant jealousy.
I have let go of his lips that seek release instead of pleasing me.
I have let go of hands more prison cell than wanderlust…
There is something worth touching here,
Worth more than just ******* here.
I have let go of bodies assimilating for comfort
instead of adding to the peace that my vibe brings into any room.
I have let go of you women more foul milk than friend,
More siren than Goddess
More damsel in distress than Queen.
I have let go of darkness for light
but, I will never choose between the moon and the sun,
Because they both feed me.
And people drain me.
So, I have let go.
I have let go
of giving in
and bowing down
of staying silent
of thinking myself 2nd
And wanting to be chosen 1st.”

-Indigo Morrison

Blessed is she who comes across,
A man so pure and full of love.
Who devoutly reveres his beloved,
To miss out would be  a vast loss.


A man like mine,
Perfection in human form.
Oh how he is flawless,
A personality which endearingly shines.

He posses a touch to admirable to be factual,
A voice that makes you feel at home,
A smile that says you’re not alone,
A body so desirable, so ****, so practical.

A love like the finest of wine,
Each day it gets better,
Nothing but better,
A love so sensibly divine.


When you have a love like ours,
You’ll learn there is fate,
None of this is fake,
Days seem only hours.


Blessed is she who comes across,
a man such as mine,
A love so divine,
to miss out would be a vast loss.

Donald Twittler, not a pretty picture
Sees himself as some kind of king.
Makes constant promises,
Doesn’t know what integrity is,
His word really doesn’t mean a thing.
Donald Twittler reveres Adolf ******
Wants a Nuremberg rally of his own.
He craves mass adulation
From a battered nation
From the mistakes that are his alone.

Donald Twittler phones from the *******
Rages  online in the middle of the night.
Each complaint anyone makes
He claims they’re all fakes
As if he's ever known wrong from right.
Donald Twittler, the personification of a drifter,
Has no relationship with the truth at all.
Don’t bother asking why;
He’s the best his Dad could buy,
And he’s never had to be on the ball.

Donald Twittler, a slimy sort of critter
Gets climaxes from national attention.
He has never had morals;
Buys his way out of quarrels,
If he had a soul it’s far beyond redemption.
Donald Twittler, thinks he’s better than ******
And we should all kiss his big fat ***.
More than half of us disagree
And urge him to quickly flee
Because most of us would just as soon pass.

Awoke to the sound of gunfire
Chewed teeth pacifying the burning rage against the disease
Mother's Milk a distant dream
And the sweet salt of your super nature
Caressing the cavities in my head
Swallowing the holes in my soul
as metal shards make more young soldiers whole
completing an illusion of control.

How long can you hold onto a necessary reverie?
As long as you need assuming you both agreed to dream tonight,
To face to face the side by side
To never ever lie
To reprobate the profligate
And accept the overwhelm
All allowing of the atmosphere
Loving every moment hard and soft
And every crevasse in the journey between.
Revive the sight of yourself within the mind of one who reveres
the eyes with which they have been blessed to look upon
a ****** deity,
and to worship fading gold and cracked plaster,
knowing it was born to age and die.

Of Anchor babes he cries foul
but it seems an empty howl.
Just look at HIS life
A Serbian “Anchor” wife!
Plus a Russian first spouse
what a hypocritical louse.
And He reveres Vladimir
why, He holds him so dear.
His claims of innocence belie
perhaps HE’S the Russian spy.
Give Donny the code?
not well does that bode -
He’ll repopulate the earth
using his daughter with mirth!
Heaven forbid we elect this toad
for our fair States it’s the wrong road.
He’ll be busy building a wall
while the crazed shooter's at the mall.
With this whacko in charge
and his cabinet at large
All we’ve worked for is gone
while the lemmings follow the “Don”

Right On Mike!!

Here's a strategy
Surround yourself with Generals
old glory and the anthem
Pick fights with ethnicities you don't like with twitter rantings
Trump is an Emperor there is no doubt
A self absorbed narcissistic caricature born of empirical arrogance
Government is no longer in entity that needs to be studied
All you have to do is run it like a business and reject the proclamations of Jefferson and Madison as mere *******
Banksters become Patriots creating wealth on Franklin's printing press with interest
While Paul Reveres ancestors boo the players who protest
White privilege never ends
White privilege never sacrifices it's position
Instead deflects by omission creates hallowed traditions
Calls it history or sacrifice
ghostly heroes
rise from the dead
Gory glory hallelujah
Congress raise your fists
Your purple stained fingers plugging your ears
Social and economic justices
fell behind and now are in arrears
And there is hell to pay
In this American way....

I cried today in my car
While I went on an extended drive
I just want to be touched
Held in the embrace by a boy that reveres me
Gently sway in the dark
With our hearts pressed against one another’s chest
To the tunes of cigarettes after ***
Softly playing in the distance
I crave a matured intimacy
Where another sees my authenticity
And accepts me in my full mystery
But I don’t have that
And it ******* hurts
Viscerally
It aches in the center of my chest
And the tears slightly make the pain subside
The romance novels and late night self-love sessions
Provide some sort of escape
But they cause huge crashes after the chemical highs have dissipated
When will my time come
Tomorrow
One month from now
Two years

I’m glad I haven’t experienced
Physical intimacy with another
Because now
With the knowledge I have
All of my experiences
Will be with someone who reveres me
Teenage insecurity no longer influencing my acceptance of low-standard decisions
Each new sensation
Will not go unnoticed
I’ll be fully absorbed
And intentional in the moments where
A man tightly grasps my waist
Under my shirt
For the first time

Delicately moves his lips against mine only to spread them open
With his skilled tongue

Moments where a man
Slowly peels off my shirt
In an unhurried lust

Roams his rough palms across my bare chest and focuses his attention on my hardened *******

The moment where a man
kisses my breast softly
For the first time

Distance measured in time,
Darkness replaced by sight;
Sanity now a faint sound,
Rarely seen in the light.

Time passed by, by distance;
Normality replaced by sin;
Silenced is each breath,
I now no longer depend.

Years merely moments,
Laughter drowning in sand;
Happiness dripping with blood,
Is a death so carefully planned.

Moments, weighed down by the years;
Distant is the chaos
Of which no-one reveres
Years filled with moments
Of Self loathing while drowning fears;
Dreams no longer visible,
Unable to see beyond the glass...

He strolled, two steps back from the crowd;
To breathe, skip a heartbeat aloud.
His heart sighs! He clears the devil's abode.
Evermore suppress the core,
To shove beneath the sheets.
He still grows in void.
He still trembles his feet.
What shapes this bloke's heart?
What tests his deceptive mind?
He proclaims to none,
His trials, the tribulations.
He whispers to none,
Beyond smiles the deep atrocity.
In ghost towns for he reveres solitude,
Into deep valleys to trod through multitudes.
He worships the axe, he deems the pen.
Sober in chalice; he smoked in ashes!
The rough disposition but gentle ticker,
The pride he plummets but gradually emanates,
Where he's tested by divinity.
This bloke soul scratched it all…
He divulges to no soul his toil!
Smittenly shaped by paramour, his intensity…

Poet's Muse

Vicious power she wields
seduced and dazed the poet yields
enamoured, willfully thus entangled
in the intricacies of her magical web
she is wicked and ruthless
and captivating nonetheless.

Beloved goddess of his dreams
subject of writers' praises and whims
sprung from the grounds of Helicon
immaculate as angel from heaven
her whisper enthralls, throws him
into hypnosis and deep chasm.

A fresh morning breeze blows
from whence life comes forth
sends echoes all over reverberating
she is as perplexing and beguiling
poet in tranquility is awakened
goads him on to ink and vent.

Lyrical verses are writ
her image of beauty and wit
the poet yearns and reveres
in poetry the Muse he immortalizes.

Delilah I. Causin, May 11, 2015

"I'll sleep beneath the shade,
I'll rest my head; lay in the glade.
Rest my soul! Let the mind as well
Let it journey the blue to seek and tell.

I seek peace, no touch of eternal bliss.
With you laying as sleeping death, it reveres the spirit.
I'll open the mind,
And teach the heart to grief yet not dwine.

They say you've tried so hard,
You're there but you'll never reach the heart.
It has a void so delicate to touch.
Not many know the misery as the miserly so much.

Innocent as I was before,
Now I know what that meant much more.
I've learnt to be cautious so much that I let go.
It haunts me but keeps me grounded to my core."

So let me sleep in your aura for it revives me.
I've felt the grass long enough to know how time slips and gets me.
For into you I see a reflection,
And an ecstasy of a clear vision. "

I’m glad I haven’t experienced
Physical intimacy with another
Because now
With the knowledge I have
All of my experiences
Will be with someone who reveres me
Teenage insecurity no longer influencing my low-standard decisions
Each new sensation
Will not go unnoticed
I’ll be fully absorbed
And intentional in the moments where
A man tightly grasps my waist
Under my shirt
For the first time

Delicately moves his lips against mine only to spread them open
With his skilled tongue

Moments where a man
Slowly peels off my shirt
In an unhurried lust

Roams his rough palms across my bare chest and focuses his attention on my hardened *******

The moment where a man
kisses my breast softly
For the first time

But what of all his greatness, what then now;
Does his determined might just disappear
Into the clouds of far where angels bow?
Or dwells his gift, where gifts were shared down here?
To answer this we may need search our tears;
How Laker's passing made an ocean's salt
Form into sorrow vast that vast reveres!
To have me think eight's spirit, shall not halt.
As when with perseverance he did teach
Adored Gigi to strive for game's elite;
He does with us with ever passion's preach!
To drive us forth to seek our greater feat,

I sense within where inspiration cries:
Here Kobe lives, where Mamba never dies!