There is a soothing pool,
Which with the driest dirt,
No man shall break its rule,
It stands to be assert,
As outlaws start to drool,
When these men hurry first,
They encounter their duel,
A man with crimson shirt,
To man he is no fool,
They try to make sure he is hurt,
By using deadly tools,
Some disguise to a friendly flirt,
To try to become cool,
But he does not attempt to lurk,
Cause they were very cruel…

ITS CEASELESS BLINDNESS IS ITS POWER,
IT HOISTS ITS POWER BY THE HOUR,
NO OUGHT IF DWELLING, FORT, OR TOWER,
THE EAGLE EYES GLARE THROUGH ITS GRIM TERRORS,
ITS LUCK IS POOR, THUS IT ENCOUNTERS,
ENDLESS PROBLEMS, ENEMIES, ERRORS,
WHEN TIME HAS COME TO FACE THE BEARERS,
IT GOES, DEFENDS WHAT IT SEES FAIRER,
THE CIVIL PRAY FOR PEACE FROM BATTLES,
IT FIGHTS TO TAKE WHAT IT CAN HANDLE,
ULTIMATE FORCES USED AS RAFFLES,
YET MAN IS STRONG,
STRENGTH IS IMPERIL,
INTEL IS THE ORAL,
THAT LEADS TO HIS QUARREL,
THE PLACE WHERE HE KEEPS HIS BOWS AND ARROWS,
TO WHERE THE SHIELD AND SWORD HANG BY THE MARROW,
THOUGH IT’S LIFE IS HARD, ROUGH AND NARROW,
ITS TRUE LIGHT NOUGHT BE EQUAL TO ITS DARKEST SHADOWS…

When has one lost what once was true,
One will know the way to lose,
In which all odds that one assumes,
Imply the one odd within you,

Within one shot there’s no more chance,
Although one shot can take all ten,
If chiseled right it takes the pin,
The mind should set to lose nor win,

The time is set for reigns to fall,
Phithets will soar and shoot to mark,
All though omega shot it hard,
A mega shot target was scored,

The moral for this stanza is,
If you haste slow with controlled swing,
The more likely you pack a sting,
Regret the one who’s rushing in….

I do not love nor I do hate,
I don’t put anything at stake,
I don’t attempt to make mistakes,
When it come to fight face to face,

Its these old lines which make win work,
May be a gift – may be a curse,
To one – it may be held assert,
To others – they mioght as well kiss the dirt,

It may be black, it may be white,
It may be wrong it may be right,
One may see all or lose their sight,
It doesn’t matter in the fight,

Cause fights all show we’re all the same,
We’d strike them hard or lose the fame,
No matter what – we feel the pain,
To stay the same is pain to train…

To wake and feel is life’s fine deal,
To love and yield so one can heal,
The fine repeal which one sees real,’
Is a virtue of the green seal,

To wake and joy a life long bliss,
Hestia gives us our precious kiss,
To say unless is like a diss,
When you are talking to your sis,

Enjoy the life the way you are,,
Thinking this way will get you far,
Drink fresh water from a smooth jar,
It will guide you – reach for the stars,

All desires which one achieves,
Depends on one who thus perceives,
In order for on be allieved,
To feel alive one must believe…

When thou lost order within thee,
Allow truth for the remedy,
Thou seek not being obsolete,
Ambition is one-third the piece,

When fair is foul and foul is fair,
Answer with a righteous prayer,
And once the sword of truth runs there,
There’s no desire for foul to dare,

Thy second bit is quite a sweat,
For love is nothing without debt,
And once this virtue lays a threat,
Preserve the balance with one step,

The final triumph is through the hail,
Indifference is the frozen stale,
And once its staggered breath gets pale,
Thy will gets handy when they’re frail…

Open your eyes and who do you see?
Climb into the high and what can you read?
While trying to find in what you will creed,
One tries not to die while trying to exceed,

Open your eyes and tell me who’s there,
And see with your heart if for you they care,
When destiny takes away time to be pairs,
What have you not but to treat those unfair?

Open yourself and pass all the pain,
Because it is the only one way to gain,
And if not then one puts itself to insane,
Cause if not others may maintain all their fame,

Now you know who is always real sharp,
Don’t grief on it because its only the start,
And whilist one gathers light to form one’s star,
Foes put one through stress because they can’t get far…

What Is done has been done,
There is no life of waste,
Whether I lost or won ,
Just depends on my taste,
And control there is none,
Whether I slow or haste,
May be worth a whole ton,
But its commonly based,

There are much roads to choose,
In this play we call life,
And we haste our hopes through,
Though the message is rife,
Whether lies or the truth,
Its as clear as a fife,
And this verse is the proof,
Sometimes there is no fight,

Cause of thy strings of fate,
Which are deeply controlled,
Through the higher estates,
They take hold of our roles,
With the keys to our gates,
Sometimes leads us to hold,
What is up to our pace,
Cause of this bind toll,

Through the times I’ll realize
That the fates need my kiss,
So I could stay alive,
‘And contain all the bliss,
In which hate’s been revised,
It would be one’s real wish,
To control every life,
But without my own fist,
To do wrong or do right,
Just may be on their list…

See yourself and look at me,
For all I’ve known was known to be,
As me and self are vibes and beats,
As heart and mind can clearly meet,

But look at you and see a soul,
An endless orb that keeps on core,
As it creates a set of doors,
That open up when love gets stored,

Release yourself and thence find peace,
With many paths in this small street,
Find a way outside the heat,
To rest yourself on cotton sheets,

Cleanse the central solemn core,
As peace and glory cast once more,
As hate and anger reset fore,
For opulence has made its tour…

In the dry desert,
There is a soothing pool,
Which with the driest dirt,
No man shall break its rule,
It stands to be assert,
As outlaws start to drool,
When these men hurry first,
They encounter their duel,
A man with crimson shirt,
To man he is no fool,
They try to make sure he is hurt,
By using deadly tools,
Some disguise to a friendly flirt,
To try to become cool,
But he does not attempt to lurk,
Cause they were very cruel…

I’ve been searching for a reason,
To keep on living,
To appreciate others and keep on giving,
To make the turns that we have driven,
To love your friends as rightful siblings,

I’ve been searching for a reason,
To find the truth,
Of what I’ve been searching for in the truce,
And by trying to make my spirit coup,
I’ve found myself in an eternal loop,

Wheras I have fought against many names,
And whilist by trying to stay the same,
By fate did only my heart remain,
In this ****** hard cold dwelling of a crushed terrain,


I tried to be nice,
But rude things came my way,
And by thinking twice,
I kept losing my face,
Towards the reigns of the skies,

Then fell out of grace,
Yet with hope by my side,
I recounted my pace,
And against many lies,

Have I found my own trace,
In which made me the light,
That saved my own sake,
And within the fold did blindness awake,

Seeing all lies in the midst of the game,
And recovering of when I was once insane,
Happiness, truth, and eagerness came,
And foes have none but themselves to blame…

There is someone who’s at the top,
Maybe a crook – maybe a cop,
Maybe someone who’s selling pop,
Or one who wipes the streets with mops,

There’s someone who decides to stand,
That person seeks to set demand,
Who sets before the moves are planned,
And does it all within one hand,

It may be right – it may be wrong,
Who’s at the top may seem so strong,
And may have trained for thy so long,
In order to keep moving on,

No matter how neither how hard,
The race will take you at the start,
And even if you don’t take part,
It may just take your wings apart…