I placed all my quarters on forever,
hoping for a future filled with endless possibilities.
However, deep down, I couldn't help
but doubt that the future held much change for me.
This uncertainty left me feeling indifferent, as if
I had lost my enthusiasm for what lay ahead.

    So I said, "flip the coin, and maybe I should
                 chase some tail when I'm in over my head"

An evaporating breath,
trying to photosynthesize with you
and make every kiss sweet like sugar
But I couldn't say that I loved you from
the very start,- still looking for that root word

                 ****, how you've grown on me.

Under the warm embrace of the quilted cover,
A sense of unease did swiftly hover.
The room, dimly lit, cast eerie shadows,
Whispering secrets of the night's unknown.

Then, a chilling sight did capture my gaze,
A pair of red eyes, piercing through the haze.
Fixated on me, they held a haunting stare,
A werewolf's presence, lurking in the lair.

In that moment, my vision turned awry,
A vivid shade of red, painting the sky.
Confusion clouded my thoughts, a tangled mess,
Struggling to grasp this strange distress.

Little did I know, it was my own blood,
Tainting my sight, like a crimson flood.
Before I could react, the beast did pounce,
Sharp teeth sinking in, a painful ounce.

Agony coursed through my trembling frame,
Fighting against the pain, a losing game.
The world around me blurred, darkness embraced,
Consciousness consumed, in shadows erased.

From that horrifying encounter, I learned,
The beast's true nature, cunningly discerned.
Hidden beneath darkness, it did reside,
Just as my blood-stained eyes did misguide.

A harsh reminder, appearances deceive,
The greatest dangers, often concealed, believe.
In plain sight, they patiently await,
A lesson learned, not to underestimate.

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.

The dark marksman it was,
blew an arrow into the chest of the world
Piercing it, marking it with the numbers
it had perceived added up to it's worth.

6 ties into tying so many to their sin,
but it had been redecorated as, "us practicing free-will"
6 of their artifacts that attracted the eyes of so
many; many of which who prayed to He is one and many
6 of the sons to dance circles around a bleeding world,
the blood of innocence, used to block out the sun.

It wasn't a dream,
but still I could have dreamt of it's unstoppable omen
In the likeness of it's raven's eye
-all was black as the night such a bird only sees
Birds made of black filled the sky of day,
turning it into night. Looking closely;
it wasn't birds, but the fallen angels no longer flightless.

Bathed in the likeness of a hopeful day,
I learnt it was a river of blood drowning the
souls of every child lost in a darkness of no end
I could not see their faces, but I could taste that
all were afraid. As the appetite of destruction, filled
the belly of a beast,- but it roamed the world still hungry
As you could never see it above your head; as it's worshipers
plucked one of their eyes out, to witness their godlike master.

And if you never learnt how to pray in
the beginning; you'd never know what words
to cry out when you're feeling lost & desperate in the end.

But I doubt enough would even listen,
no, no, the message varied to be just an opinion
As the words became twisted by the tongues
of people who were lukewarm and unsalted Christians.
-a tongue twister; the words of false prophets
the words keen to your ears, and hands that take your profits.


               None could see, that we needed to be
                        saved from such a world, saved by the Lord.

Unpublished,
are my thoughts; ideas
that could of become dreams.

And how so I couldn't afford it,
I was only loose for change,
short of it, that I became indifferent
To not seeming to win and changing it all
-to lose for change.

GOD; is it even for me to exercise my love
Cos I'm not fit to love, running out of chances,
running red as the blood running out my nose
the sense of smell is gone, I can never smell
any of those good intentions.

And as I cover my face at such an odd hour,
I feel uneven by how I must cover up pain with \
another smile on my face
Still you can see what drips out,
the stains are always present and on my shirt.

I need a tissue to wipe my ****** nose,
and another to wipe the tears from crying about love.

Dress my car with new takkies,
with a girl by the side, looking a bit tacky
It would break my heart,
once we stop loving each other,
Quicker than the halt of my new brake shoes.

But with her, I had walked a mile,
and kissed so many times with her devilish smile
I learnt how to speak a demons tongue,
to demonstrate by every tomorrow,
an example to say, "I need you now"

As we'd get high on the laughs
about the lowest and saddest of things,
But strangely enough, my humour was high brow.

She'd be a Medusa in my eyes,
turning my thoughts into stone
-there's always something heavy on my mind,
dear, you always weigh heavy on my mind.

It seems my emotions must find their rest,
Yet slumber eludes me-, a constant test.
As torment resides, reflected in my gaze,
Slowly turning to ashes-, tomorrow's haze.

Once, I was lost in dreams, in a forest so grand,
But now my skin feels naught, scorched by the land.
As the same scorching heat, consuming the trees,
Leaving me numb, devoid of all pleas.

As reality peels off my eyes, like a fleeting tattoo,
Where nothing feels real-, a transient view.
Mirrors shattered, in a mind of fragile glass,
A fractured reflection, and a mask that won't last.

Sorrowful tears, with impure intent,
Washing away all, as they're freely spent.
Like water beneath my sink, dripping away,
Taking with it all, in a sorrowful sway.

Vultures I rely on, hoping to evade,
Becoming their prey, in this world's cruel charade.
For it's easy to be devoured, my dear,
In this unforgiving world, where shadows leer.

I needed a place to rest my weary heart.
unfortunately, I had lost my room key,
so I asked you to spare me a space in your heart,
And you handed me a spare key and welcomed me in.

As I told the clock to wait a second for me,
still ticking off my list of red flags, and making
sure that we were compatible.
As we spent time together, making kisses
as wet as the scales of a fish out of the sea,
But I probably should have waited a little longer,
before I start calling you my catch

I couldn't resist the hook in your eyes.
The first time we made love, I was swimming in
the moisture of your body, deep in my feelings.
I took a break from breaking you open,
to sink my teeth in between your thighs.

And I was pleasantly surprised to find that
you were quite the trumpet blower.
As you found your voice blowing on my horn,
and I was left short of breath in the length of it all.
Despite my shorter stature,
I was tall in all the necessary places.

We spent our time smoking and getting high,
making a printer jealous with the loads
of paper we went through.
But I was always afraid of heights, afraid that
my mask would fall off every time I laid by your side.

As I was taught that love sometimes hurts,
but it hurts even more when you were in love
with someone who was hurting just as much as you.
But with you, I found a place to rest my love
and a spare key to your heart.

i heard of a shadow,
in an empty room
full of intentions,
still they're like a rainy day
still deciding how grey it wants to be.

i picked the corner of a world,
where my square ideas were vaguely
valued; a child who thinks out of the box
i stored a piece of myself in the closet
of my parent's skeletons;
ancestry artifacts burdened by a
generational chain,- the attire of a uniform
conversation; pretending i had a
good day at school today.

"no i didn't cry as much in class,
as i usually do, dearest mother
i did try to make a pass on math on being
calculative, on how i spent my day,
busiest father."

"as i bullied a bully before he could
make me his next victim
cutting him short a few generations
when i kicked him in his *****."

and i only cried, not out of guilt,
but to guilt everyone else, as to make it
seem as if it wasn't entirely my fault.

still even if it had not rain that day,
i'd still ask myself why my tears
felt so grey that day

Oh,
how I yearn for the era
when existence was adorned
with the bliss of simplicity.

It was a time,
when my grandest ambition
was to emulate the adults,
to engage in make-believe
and assume their roles.

The mere utterance,
of those two words, "young man,"
would instantaneously illuminate
my innocent countenance.

It was a designation,
that bestowed upon me
a sense of significance, reverence,
and recognition in a world that
appeared so immense and unfamiliar.

Those were the instances,
when I genuinely believed
that all was attainable, and
the future held boundless prospects.

The recollections,
of those untroubled days
still kindle a warmth within my heart,
reminding me of the sheer felicity
that can be discovered in the most
uncomplicated of matters.

Time, like a river flowing effortlessly,
glides through the hands of mankind.
In a futile attempt to grasp its elusive nature,
man wields a worn-out butter knife,
hoping to tame its relentless passage.

With each stroke of their rusty blade,
he yearns to bend time to his will.
Yet, his efforts are in vain, for time remains
indifferent to his feeble attempts.
Like a blunt instrument, his desire to control time
only leads to self-inflicted wounds.

As the days pass, the consequences of his
futile struggle become apparent.
The man's obsession with manipulating time
takes a toll on his well-being.
The butter knife, once a symbol of his determination,
becomes a harbinger of his downfall.

In a cruel twist of fate, the man's relentless
pursuit of power over time leads to his untimely demise.
His body succumbs to the ravages of high cholesterol,
a consequence of neglecting his health in his quest for control.

Thus, the irony of his situation becomes evident.
In his pursuit of mastering time,
he becomes a victim of its unyielding nature.
The man's story serves as a cautionary tale,
reminding us that time cannot be tamed,
and that our efforts to control it may ultimately
lead to our own downfall.

Let my memory forever be etched upon your arm,
like an exquisite tattoo that tells our story.
As you gently brush away those tears that
bear the weight of our shared moments,
know that a part of them will forever remain
imprinted on your delicate skin.

The petals of the flowers have turned to dust,
leaving behind a bitter taste of ash that burns in my heart.
The words that once flowed freely from my tongue
now feel like coffins, trapping my thoughts and emotions inside.
It seems foolish to even speak about death
when it feels like it's already consuming me.

As I lay awake in the darkness of yet another sleepless night,
I realize that my callousness towards others
is nothing but a defense mechanism.
But in the end, I know that I'll just be a stranger
to them by tomorrow's rest.

I haven't exactly fallen head over heels,
but there's something about the sheer
beauty of flowers that captivates me.

In the dimly lit bathroom, I find solace in my tears.
It is here, hidden away from the world,
that I allow myself to release the pain that
weighs heavy on my heart.
The worn-out tile walls, with their rustic charm,
bear witness to my vulnerability.

As I stand before the mirror,
my reflection distorted by the cascading tears,
I realize that counting my tears has become an impossible task.
They flow freely, like a river that knows no bounds.
Each drop represents a moment of anguish,
a fragment of my soul that I have let go.

In the vast expanse of the sky,
where beauty knows no bounds, we pondered
the question of when our union would take place.
Our eyes, filled with the salt of the sea,
reflected the longing within our souls.
I, consumed by a solitary existence, carried
the weight of my worries in the depths of my gaze,
yearning for a wife whose name remained unknown.

In the depths of my loneliness, tears streamed
down my face, as remnants of a past self lingered behind.
Each word uttered was a testament to the pain I held within.
While others reveled in the joys of love, I stood alone,
a mere spectator at the end of my own journey.

I stood there, waiting for love to take its seat,
but found myself lost in the pit of my own heart.

The skies hung heavy and black,
casting a somber mood over the world below.
It was as if the heavens themselves were
burdened with the weight of yesterday's sorrows.
The fields, once vibrant and alive, now wore a grey smile,
a reflection of the tears shed in days gone by.

As night fell, the symphony of crickets filled the air,
their chorus echoing through the stillness.
It was a quiet night, interrupted only by the
gentle handover of the sun to the moon.
The air carried a pleasant scent of dew, a reminder
of the rest that awaited all living things.
And amidst it all, the tiny footsteps of rain danced
upon the asbestos roofing, a thief of nature sneaking
into the sounds of peace.

In the midst of this atmospheric symphony,
a wooden kitchen door ticked with the passage of time.
It creaked open and closed, its rusted iron hinges
adding to the melody.
The door seemed hinged in thought,
attached by fears and darkness.
It formed a latch, and night became its key,
locking away the light and welcoming the shadows.

As I stood there, my feet grew cold,
chilled by the ice-like glass of my fragile character.
A towel hung limply from the handle of the cupboard,
a silent witness to my dry mouth and the skeletons
of my past that haunted me, beyond my control.

But amidst the darkness, comfort found
its way to my side, persistently offering solace.
It was a visitor, never truly staying,
but always there when I needed it.
In my mind, I set up a spare room,
a sanctuary for fleeting moments of respite.
And in those rare moments, a sparing thought
would gently grace my mind, offering a glimmer of hope.

Yet, even in the midst of this fragile peace,
a shadow lurked behind me.
She knew my name, intimately aware of
the battles I fought within myself.
The empty room, once a sanctuary, grew heavy
with the weight of my inner demons.
Like a fallen angel, I descended into the depths
of my own despair, the falling rain mirroring
the tears that stained my soul.
And in a whisper, a secret was revealed in my ear:
depression, depression, depression.

And so, my depressing thoughts found me once again,
enveloping me in their suffocating embrace.
The world around me faded into the background
as I became lost in the labyrinth of my own mind.

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.

In the vast expanse of the celestial realm, where stars twinkle and galaxies dance, I witnessed the somber symphony of funerals in the skies. The haunting melody of a dying star echoed through the cosmos, while the silence of a falling tree reverberated with a profound intensity.

From the very moment of my arrival into this world, I burst forth with an explosive energy, clutching a fragment of my own existence. Yet, amidst the chaos, a wise voice advised me to gather myself, to find stability in the midst of life's tempestuous storms.

Within the depths of my being, my eyes shimmered like precious diamonds, forged from the crust of knowledge buried deep within the recesses of my mind. Some may label it a "***** mind," a guilty pleasure concealed behind the innocence that radiates from my gaze. The words that flowed from my lips possessed a silver tongue, born from the very metal that mankind had forged in the fires of their own pride.

I savored the bitter taste of acknowledging my past pride, forever harboring a touch of spitefulness within me. I regarded those more fortunate as my rivals, constantly engaging in quarrels within my prayers of gratitude. Trembling at the unanswered pleas, I sought solace in crafting my own revelations, only to be met with failure that served as a reminder of my own unfaithfulness. And in those moments of vulnerability, tears would cascade down my cheeks, a silent plea for understanding.

In the shadows, I am a lover, concealing my true emotions behind a smile that graces my public facade. Yet, in the intimacy of secrecy, my grin betrays the excitement that courses through my veins as I share my innermost thoughts. Secretly, I am my own strict disciplinarian, relentlessly chastising myself for every misstep taken in the light of day. As the sun sets, I extinguish the lights of my mind, allowing the darkness to envelop me, preparing myself to ignite the flame of motivation come morning.

For it is in the night, when the world slumbers, that the truth reveals itself. It is in the darkness that I find solace, where the masks we wear during the day are shed, and our true selves emerge, unfiltered and vulnerable.

We eagerly await the faint whispers;
an anticipated breath, and mere hint of your desire.
The echoes of passion reverberate in my ears,
as hearts yearn to break free from their confines.
How could I ever forget the way you adorn yourself,
that dress that sends my eyes rolling back in ecstasy,
just at the thought of you behind me.

Beginning with a few words,
I surrender myself to the pleasure of your touch.
My jeans constrict me, a physical reminder
of the intensity building within me.
My eyes, like flickering candles, chase the
sensation of our skin igniting.
The tension in the air becomes palpable, and
my smile retreats into itself as you kneel before me.
A gentle bite, a tantalizing lick, and squeeze
- my pleas become nothing more than fuel for your insatiable
desire to continue.

From the anticipation that hangs heavy in the air,
to tears that well in my eyes, everything becomes drenched
before we even reach the depths of our passion.
I dive in with a breaststroke, my teeth sinking into your chest,
eliciting your favorite reaction.
Our tongues dance, speaking a language only we understand
- the language of love, of desire, of surrender, and French.
As we moisten our lips with a hint of saliva,
my attempts to speak are futile, for words cannot capture
the intensity of our connection.

I refuse to release my grip on you,
for once I have you in my clutches,
nothing can tear me away from your intoxicating presence.
Silence your phone, let the fragrance envelop your neck,
as I search for the sweet nectar that awaits me on the tips of my fingers.

One, two, or perhaps three this time?
The possibilities are endless, as we lose ourselves
in the intoxicating symphony of our desires.

Thus, I might find myself falling in love
with the sweetness of a tongue,
the tender expressions that I've never known.
The assurances remain unverified, unvoiced.
I will pour my heart into a symphony of syllables,
but they remain as nothing more than silent echoes,
yearning to be heard.

Why do you play the role of a side,
when our love could be the main event?
It always feels like I'm just making love next to you,
And we both know it's not right,
like a clandestine rendezvous with a *******.
Why do I shower you with gifts,
when you barely acknowledge my existence,
sharing my deepest secrets with you, only for them
to be your farewell gift?

I cleanse my vision,
trying to rid myself of your haunting image.
I'm not a swimmer, yet I found pleasure
in drowning in the depths of your thigh's, last night.

Steaming my spectacles;
the only way to capture your breath,
we shared a few smoky moments, and I noticed
your capacity for holding things in,
in those puffy cheeks of yours.
We ventured in and out of your home,
and weaving in and out of their sheets,
There was a lot we could've discussed after,
but nature always called you away.

I tend to prattle when I'm at ease,
you slept on my arm, muffling the torrent of my words,
my wit often coming to my rescue as something so handy.

Regrettably, we only truly connect at the peak of a ******,
and whether I decide if I enjoy the simplicity of that,
This melancholic sensation in my heart,
it's an entirely different climate.

I wish I could record all of your secrets,
but I lose track of the time, and there's
this constant laugh track on my mind,
forcing a smile to bloom awkwardly on my countenance.

I wish I could purchase dreams for your journey,
enabling you to traverse the labyrinth of my mind.
As I stand afar, I find myself ensnaring the playful
butterflies that flutter within my emotions.

I wish I could to weave a bow from your desires,
launching them towards the stars.
On this celestial arrow, I'd affix a note – a divine appeal
– for you deserved everything, everything that edges
you closer to perfection.

I wish I could fold up my passion into paper,
and gently tuck these parchment words
into the chambers of your heart.
Despite the paper cuts stinging my hands,
I'd endure, for it's merely a testament of my
unwavering affection towards you.

I wish I could mask out all of my tears,
for I am but an unsightly mourner.
I have wept before mirrors, only to have them
reflect my sorrow – the painful awareness that
I can only yearn for you, never truly possess you.

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.

The portrait I've painted of you bathes in the glow of a setting sun,
Each dawn graced with your radiant smile,
Drawing me deeper into the warmth of your gaze.

Your image, forever etched in my mind, provides all I ever need.
Much like a jubilant trumpet’s cry,
I cannot help but sing your praises,
With an unspoken promise to give you my all.
In the dust of days gone by, it's your earthy brown eyes,
Unmasking intentions as pure as morning light.
The joy of your companionship is unparalleled,
Yet, I find greater delight in unveiling your hidden side.

You are akin to a summer behind a veil,
Unfolding exquisitely as you reveal your true self.
As we retreat into the seclusion of the evening,
The drapes cocoon you, shielding you from the world’s gaze,
Granting me a private viewing of your unguarded self,
A world of you that unfolds when we are alone.

I found myself immersed in a profound contemplation of the future,
Embarking on a mysterious journey into the unknown,
Witnessing the passage of time, transcending my youthful self,
Facing the fleeting nature of existence, like a fallen leaf,
Unprepared to depart from this earthly realm,
Ultimately, destined to become mere dust,
reunited with the very ground from which I emerged.

A seductive whisper,
passionate kisses immersed in
sultry falsehood on their lips

A heart transformed into granite;
gazing into each other's eyes,
locked in a fiery embrace
with a captivating enchantress

With a luring melody and enticing phrases,
to an intimate soirée for just the two of us
Be cautious not to sink your teeth into those words,
for you may risk losing a precious tooth!

Oh, how utterly enchanting, as sweetness unfurls in the breeze,
A tender caress, as our lips intertwine with such ease.
In the dance of love, we twist and entwine,
An invitation extended, a date so divine.
In simple moments of conversation, our souls intertwine,
Passion ablaze, as we discover hearts aligned.

Pretty are her eyes, seductively caressed by the midnight hour,
Ensnared in labyrinth of time. For those who dare to surrender  
to their allure.

Like a shadow, lurking in the depths of innocence,
A hazy mist of temptation, igniting a burning desire
within the daring soul.

Tonight, the darkness unveils,
Revealing the irresistible glow of your essence.

Our resting fates, lay on our head' two pillowcases.
All my thoughts all seem fast asleep in bliss.
Who would dare, disturb my best peace?
Darling, I hope they all would know you,
Are the most valuable piece in my entire mind.

In the tranquil embrace of night,                                             
our destinies entwined, as our heads rest upon the soft pillows.
Every thought within me slumbers, basking in heavenly tranquility.
No one should dare to shatter the serenity that I have found.
My love, I pray that they all understand the depth of your significance,
For you are the priceless jewel that resides in the very core of my being.

Resting face of desire, and her beauty.
You made all of the boys lose feet and chase.
Such a dame, known more for a name,
And games we could play in Sun' day.
I miss you, as you took your last rest.
All I have, is a last scent on your pink pillowcase.

In the gentle repose of passion, your beauty
shines like a radiant sun.
You ignite a fire within, causing men
to stumble and chase after your allure.
You, my beloved enchantress, known not only for your name but for the irresistible games we played on sunlit days.
Oh, how I yearn for you, as you took your final rest.
All that remains is the lingering scent upon your delicate pink pillowcase, a melancholic reminder of our cherished moments together.

“Lightning doesn’t strike twice,” they say.

Yet, for the child who raises their glass jar to the sky,
Reaching for their dreams like capturing butterflies,
Doesn’t opportunity present itself once again?

Trapped in the labyrinth of my insecurities,
Longing within this spinning reverie,
Like the threads of time, I’ve lost my curiosity,
The first time, the sounds of joy would tickle my ears,
A passing breeze urging me ahead,
How can I ignore what can’t be ignored,
By seeking self-promotion and disregarding what lies in store?

A curious mind will inquire a second time.

Wisdom embraced me once,
In her nurturing embrace, countless times,
Though not her own, she taught me her truths,
Infusing them with a spiritual essence and whispering them with a kiss,
Her eyes painted the speech of a chosen few,
And with attentive ears, wide as the gates of a church,
She welcomed, studied, earnestly, devotedly, diligently.

On the veins of the altar,
She caressed herself within me,
Wisdom loving me a second time.

Life unfolds as a simple circle,
Round and round we all journey,
If there has been a first, a second time shall surely follow,
For if today we haven’t done it all,
Tomorrow offers us a chance, a second time to pursue.

In the grand overview:
a miniature universe encapsulated within a fly’s delicate wing,
entrapped flawlessly in a mesmerizing reverie.

Futile lips that have savored the nectar of a sweet existence,
envisaging the whispered endearments of love.

All amidst a flightless winter, detached from the embrace of summer,
swift moments of the paparazzi’s intrusive lens,
devoid of an escape from fleeting trends.

Lost in the footsteps of our predecessors,
bloodlines tainted with the stench of yesteryears’ socks,
corrupt law enforcers bending the straight lines of justice,
pastors reaping rewards from tithe—promoting slander,
bound by a constricting necktie.

A captivating visage, a trivial coin’s value,
not worth a penny for a fleeting thought,
over ephemeral regrets concerning “Instagram girls,”
no foundation upon which to establish standards,
a desolate heart, a tool appropriated by the most reprehensible,
urban heights in pursuit of an intoxicating sense of glamour.

As society’s vigilant eagle observes it all, soaring through the skies,
yet the sight of it all leaves one plagued by a sense of discomfort.

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.

Over the course of a lifetime,
one often finds themselves lost in nostalgia,
yearning for a bygone era.
However, being human comes with its flaws,
making us imperfect perfectionists,
enduring the growing pains that come with it.

Somewhere along the way,
we fail to realize that personal growth is not uniform.
Though we all enter this world through the same process,
born from a woman’s sacred embrace,
we are like branches of a tree,
diverging in our paths as we age.

Father Time, wise and unforgiving,
teaches us the brevity of this existence.
For just as scripture says,
“a man leaves his father and his mother,
and cleaves to his wife.”

Yesterday’s memories often become tomorrow’s regrets,
and sometimes pave the way for future repentance.
Yet, amidst the hardships of life,
some souls are fortunate enough
to be saved by unexpected miracles.

Neither the young nor the old should fade away,
for within them lies immense potential.
But even with the brightest ideas,
the world’s judgment may cloud their minds.
Sharing one’s plans with eager ears
does not guarantee attentive listeners.

Do not let those who treat you unfairly
create division within your heart.
Instead, multiply the power of love,
by loving others with both your mind and heart.

We are all stories written in the stars,
collecting memories from the depths of life’s pond.
Before this moment, existence prevailed,
and now it is your turn to create what will be.

Fall upon your knees in prayer,
but do not bow before ungodly men.
Choose not to judge,
and love them even more than they fail to love.
But be cautious not to let love blind you,
keeping a fine line of self-respect.

I am always with you,
like the echoes of past memories.
In the present, I am here to remind you,
to keep pushing forward.
Do not perceive my words as mere poetry,
for they are valuable lessons from a life lived before.

self absorbing,
***** talking tastes of erosion
don't want to spoil the mood
but i soiled myself in a bust of tears
i don't cry as much, not much time
to cry about anything as a man on a constant move,
and i don't have  much of the moves, to move
back into your heart,-

let's vacate quickly before i'm occupied by time
opting out of the options at hand,
not so handy being left out when you're left handed
as i see your yawn like applauds;
forcing everyone else to chip in

we've become bored of our love, as the writing is
stuck on the wall in white; a chalkboard
as if i forgot to dot down the notes,
taking note of an aid to memory
it's too late now; the classes have ended
and I've been schooled by someone
else who could love you better.

Some live for the moment,
I won't be in a moment of motionless
Some hope for the right moment,
I'll make right to build that moment
And any beautiful moment, is all but a second,
So I'd never second guess myself,
Asking how fast a moment is gone

Principles, principles that are in charge of my life,
Be an ethical person, still be good despite your obvious bad
Living a somewhat basic life; basic truths that you'd never forget

             Do it all, and never give a moment's rest.

Let me relate to guns,
somebody who took one for family
The bullet is adopted,
-a stray that killed a cousin
Gun powder that tastes like baby kisses,
to die tastefully, while she cries
But who am I to judge; I keep one in my pants,
some keep theirs inside, some on their side
I could use it to bring death in her eyes,
or bring in her, a reason to spawn life
This gun is a tool, and it's user a peacemaker
or just a weapon

                  I'm so attached to my gun.

All the purple flowers I've
seen, sort of relate to purple eyes
Cos my vision was obscene,
obscure, insecure, and vaguely pure

Still I had seen a pretty flower,
a flower that pretty much stole my
words. She had a bite to her:

  So till death do me part, to have and to hold
this pretty flower, pretty much came with thorns

What not to say, my tongue is twisted
with the knots under my breath
I unbutton your lace, to undress
my eyes; worn out and ******* by the day

There's multiplication in such an act,
and I'm so divided on where to start
Divisive thoughts, disagreeing with myself,
whether I act as a dog with only a bark
Or choose to be animal who tends to bite,
chasing tail, and pinning it on a donkey
-it's a game to someone wanting ***

But as I shouldn't say,
I want you call on me, and worship a name,
in the moans of the night
And your thankful glow, becomes the
morning' prayer
Would you still believe in me,
confine in me, in the confines of my arms
And tickle out all of the bullets out of my gun

Behind the shades,
I see the show upon the stage you've set
But once the show ends, behind that curtain,
is where the true showcase will begin

Her skin was dark as what you
see when you close your eyes
And in the night, all you could see was
the painted white of her eyes
The tint of an artificial smile,
while she was a fly by night kind of gal
A shadow behind it's shadow, knowing
she'd always have a dark past

Her hair; black as the blanket of night
covering the sun. An heir to her throne,
who was her light-skinned son,- ironically
But it must be so commonly,
that the dark gives a reason for light
And from a dark place;
a womb was that, that birthed a new life

She braided her heir, to prepare
him for this twisted kind of life
Crowned him with thorns, so to
know, it hurts to think so sharp
As she hung a neckpiece around his neck,
to compliment his youthful charm
Bathed in him in the sweetest of flowers,
to nectar him in love
And tattooed stars on his back,
so that a thousand angles would always have his back

Tell me if this wasn't love,
or  just another dark ritual, of a dark queen mother.

Let's get high, and drink until the sun gets low
Cos I'm so fond of you, but not so fond of other girls
So no wonder I haven't found any another girl
And let me be cut in my eyes, every time I see you,
Then pretend the tears aren't a mix of blood from what I saw

Thinking about our regrets after we make love; an afterthought
Afterwards, we'll talk about ourselves as we were before
I'm always a little mellow, making a melody out of a poem
But never tempered by your tempo, once I've struck a chord

But lowkey, I'm trying to fit into your memories like a key
I've been a little twisted by other girls, who don't know me
You know, buying love out of a loan,- I'm really just lonely

every shadow behind a star
-i started this poem with an empty space
a cloudy mind that tipped the skies
with a tip of a pen
i poke a hole in the sky, till tears bled
out of heaven's gate
and for heaven's sake, i must have gotten
mixed up between the skies, and earth being
such a hellish place

i had a touch of love by a kitten's mitten
a soft smitten experience, i had walked
into a bit quieter
as i could never say the words out loud,
to express my love to impress a crowd
but we all want to hear those words,
at least once, once in a while by the one
two is a bit mutual, and three's a crowd
but you have a lot of things you're still waiting for,
like having someone being so worked up
over you; so i'd best kiss you after five

cos every star has a shadow,
and every bright thing has a dark side
-i hope my bright smile won't shine
a light on what i'm hiding inside

Scribble kisses,
the first few are always so messy
So please cross it out of your memory,
as I become a professional; writing out
my love with the tip of my tongue
To taste how you feel,- I've had my full fill,
as every smoker needs a break
I've smoked a few of your words,
that all of your secrets beat inside of my chest
Invading my lungs; so hard to breathe
while constantly checking up on the energy you
have left, something like my vape
-I'll put you in charge

Darling, lead the way
pause for a bit, and let me press all of
your right buttons, just before I press play
Cos you're a perfect picture, and I have a photographic mind,
capturing every one of our moments
As I'll take care of you, with my every focus

While you love to blur my glasses lens,
and I'm hoping my intentions aren't less distinct
I'm just trying to have a peek of your piece,
and maybe disturb your peace

I know a self aware *******,
not always aware of what
he left behind,- I do it on purpose,
as my past feels a bit like ****

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.

to settle the lights of your very eyes,
would always feel light years away
still i know the end of that tunnel is so
bright,- in it's vacuum
******* out all of my words
out of my heart,

you've become a space in my eyes,
a galaxy in my sights
chasing a heaven in it's person, but
above all, I was just chasing my many highs

                        so i was much like the above title

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