i cannot, cannot carve myself
into a stone; as a mind set in stone
and all of it's memories, are made of gold
as i'm buried in the dark,
like all of the seeds of my words
i spread so many in the world, hoping
one day some wisdom would grow
longing of a day, a day
that I find my composition as a poem
but what is even a poem,- a piece of
writing; i'm a piece nowadays, with an addiction
to a scanty diction
an imagery i myself pretend to imagine,
and a passing time of passion in a tone
of passive


it's me. no it's we,
it's they who try to be them
it's all of us; related- but our words'
seem not to be so relative,
these days i a poet cannot, cannot relate
to my very own poems .....  ......

There were a thousand roses
in my eyes; as I had seen the light
of the sun kissing a flower
It had touched the petals of your hair,
sweetened in a desirous aroma
Tied in a knot; not a single strand of it
was out of place. But I felt out of place,
-stranded

I'd never lose the number of my own words,
but in a moment I couldn't count on them at all
                
                         I was in awe.

Attributes of emptiness-
a void we seldom couldn't avoid,
that which I couldn't afford
I'se a glorious imperfectionist,
and how perfect is that in this imperfect world
Is it a goal to compare a life of a successful self made,
to one who could never afford a maid

Smiles all fading in the world's only true green:
"the grass is greener on the other side,"
But I know it hides the many weeds, residing inside
as one so in love, and blindly in love for their bribe
Married to their empty pocket,-  a loyal bride

Do not speak loosely of your words, you'll be loose for change
To work so well with others; it's all the company
of people's similar struggles

The poor will work for the rich, the rich are poor
to them in return. It's just the will of the world

Nothing comes to waste,
I'd still love you, and handle what comes with your love handles
Still for us to have a good **** session, quenching my thirst,
- I'd still adore you with a *******

I'd never get tired of you,
never getting tired of holding your baggage from those baggy eyes
I'd still admire the birds flying around your eyes,
your crow's feet wouldn't force me to walk out of our love

Your husky voice would still be attractive to me,
especially in my many, many lows
And I'd never put up a front for that gap tooth,
cos I had fallen in love with you, with all of your flaws

Church bell ears;
I've heard the holy ring of an unwritten hymn in a minor key
Their piercing eyes, are bites of bullets, all pointed guns
as hands;  pointing out my immoral acts; three shots back
at them and one pointing up to discredit a God

A wrinkled heart,
by the irony of a preach; a church's lancet window,
Stained in sin of an unwritten scripture, and a scripted faith
On top of an unholy pedestal, all ready to cast their first stone,
alongside their own boulders of sin

Oh Lord, even if I don't believe in a God,
I'd believe in a better place than here
So my only prayer is being seen by your eyes,
as one saved from the desiring eye of the world


                                                   Amen.

There's a quiet night of crickets,
echoing in the applauds of the handover of sun to moon
A mystic smell of dew, and a due of rest,
I've locked my eyes into a dream, listening to the
ticking wood of an old kitchen door,
It slowly creaks open, and closes rust on their iron hinges
as I'm hinged in thoughts; attached by my many fears,
and the darkness forms a latch,

               -And it's night becomes it's key
                 that unlocks my inner demons poetry

I like what I see, but if I approach you
please don't cause a scene,
I might not fair well if your glare is too mean,
so please be polite if you know what I mean

Let me start off by saying,
"I've got something in my pants to unlock
a bit of excitement, and drive you insane"
Just give me a second, because I'm a bit tipsy and I've
lost my car keys inside of my pockets, of these Levy jeans
And it's a bit taxing trying to be charming, and I can't
always afford that kind of levy,

My lungs at this point of time are quite heavy,
the brain, quite empty; so please excuse me if I think too ahead,
about me filling you up with your head instead
It took a lot of confidence for me to approach
you like this, and I skipped a couple of stairs
Your friends were giving me some intimidating stares,
and I'm just trying to be intimate with, and show you
some care, like nobody else cares

I hope you notice that I'm innovative, and trying
to be a love doctor, with my skills of patience
That line must make me sound so inventive,
and may cause your heart a bit of disorder, but I'm
good at making an intervention

I love how I'm speaking all of these bars
while we're chilling at the bar, but probably for you,
you're only hearing, "blah, blah, blah, blah and blah"