under a star lit night/
surrounded by crowds of dark
blankets of time, tucked away in secret/
the forever pieces to form this sky;
are petals of beauty falling onto earth.
...red, fiery, and desirable
i saw a shooting star rose, and what grew
from it was our Mother earth.

Dearly said,
dearly at times you're unheard
Only listening to the voices in your head

The irony of life is always so,
feelings of no worth in the world, even after
you die;— you're no worth dead to them, at all

The irony of life is so,
you feel like a failure everyday, even after
you die;—they'd say you failed at life when you chose to go

You don't need a shoulder to cry on,
or someone to give one to reply on
But the shoulders of encouragement to carry on;
especially with the weight of the world on your shoulders
You're longing to conquer mountains, but there's just
this dark hill made of the night's boulders

What's your pick, choosing which side to
fall off of your peak. Which stroke to use,
when you're swimming in thoughts so deep
As you're written in invisible ink,
invincible to your own brink; at an edge close to overthink

...truly who is sadder,
the pen, poem or their poet?

Oh the kind regards, in regards
to how an audience applauds isn't a genuine hand to love

...they've read your poem,
but won't understand.

They don't know enough, even as you're boldly
showing; they'll only see as another random poem

All the pretty summers getting a little dark
Reminiscent on all the girls who broke his heart
Battered and bruised by another battle scar,
Misjudged your heart;—pretending to know who you are

Locking demons, next to the skeletons in a closet
Questions of how he does it; to snip away time like
picking up girls with pretty flowers.
Knowing roses aren't always a pretty red, but the blood
stains of picking them up by their thorns
All their beauty and sounds, carefully arranged like poems

But he started off as the caterpillar before meeting
her butterfly kisses. Words flying high in air, and losing
breath complementing his Mrs.
Describing her by fruit shapes,— cherry cheeks,
a pineapple hairdo, and two plump peaches
Always treating you like a baby, and calling you cute
for giving her baby boy kisses

A little Miss info, the only one for you; dishing out info
by a saucer, at times over your head like a UFO
But you didn't know her dirt, even as you were down to Earth
a terrestrial, inhabiting this relationship often being absurd

             ...baby boy, it's been a while since you've kissed a girl

Hopeless —only in the sense of my mind not putting enough
time to keep up with my hopes
Always like chasing a thought; overlapping you constantly
on a marathon of racing with life choices
Do I choose to give up on hope, giving into my own despairs,
or is it better for me to give hope a second try, giving myself
the necessary time to heal?

Who hasn’t once questioned themselves, questioned
by their morals; all while questioning their purpose
As I see myself as that white rabbit, hopping carelessly over
their problems
Though it’s easy for the creature to get trapped in the hole
That gaping hole to every scar; makes the land of your heart a block
of Swiss cheese. At times life stinks until you find maturity

Usually you’re the bunny hopping in freedom, or hoping to be free,
in amongst all of life’s snares, and the weakness of flesh being
tasty meat for others.

Does hope become a habit, or it falls into the hole
of the people’s Blanc De Hotot rabbit?

//A tear behind a smile
—it's pretty flower waters
remind me on how to cry
Blurred in between the lines
of pretending to be fine

We are all sometimes this flower
growing in amongst ashes
Do not look down on my prowess
not all brave heroes started off,
without once feeling like cowards

But given the right hour;
soon you shall conquer

Sounds & pictures,
for the records to show
—today we're going to war

Grenade hearts; with all their
pent up emotions ready to explode
The sounds of guns in orchestra
of a thousand applauds
Ashes have made grey the floor;
as the after smoke chokes the globe

Parachutes blanket the sky,
black navy teal,—the day becomes night
Darkness roams behind a gun,
and with it's might, dissipates a man's sight
Blinded by foreshadowing, what follows
through, is it's omen painted black of blight

Pools of blood, shallow to a charging foot
marching armies depart blades of grass
from it's root

Children who sing songs with a gun
dancing unarmed under the sun
Thinking it's just a toy for fun;
what has this world become, but the result
of being the victim in front of the gun

                          ...we're killing our earth
Means we alone are just killing ourselves

Complacent; my life experiences are
anew, of all unfamiliar places
Faces are pretty; but pretty much
the same —recalling them more than
their person's name

Maddening; in a maiden voyage
tis an odyssey of this craze, writing about love
Though I'm always so far from it
As I wonder whose dreams I'm tip toeing
in their head, as a memory

Care for me; as I'd care to not overstep
myself, while I'm running on your mind
We're both blind,
blinded in love, blinded by love,
blinded by what we'd hope is love

still we haven't met;
just being two beings, connected by
dreams —trapped in each other's heads

I

alone and happy on the 14th
i rise to the occasion; as it's
beautiful rose

II

roses that are red, and violence not so
new. sugar lips of a nightmarish diabetic kiss,
but what stops a love sick fool

               ..i sit back, and watch the view

III

a heart made of steel
someone stole your heart easily, cos you're
leaving the windows of your eyes so open;
there's going be a lot of robberies this
Valentine's day

IV

here's to a valentine red:

red as the flags of one you
should avoid with caution
red as the daring run of emotions
being chased by a bull
red as the tomato of a terrible first
kiss, causing acid reflux
red as the overdrawing of your account
all to prove you value someone for a day

V

"would you be my Valentine,"
he asked her on his knees

A chuckle she gave, "tis these only
few times I have a man on his knees,
afterwards spoiling me with dinner and
eating out"

                                               wink, wink.

/// Rewinding playback; on a favourite
      cassette tape. CD compact disc changer in
      the glove compartment. Eight track, eight
      miles away from that nostalgic memory of us
                    sort of around the time I was in love \\

Mixtape stories, as they once were,
one story about falling in love—as easily as a leaf falls
to the ground. Looking up to see how far we've come
Falling off track on a marathon of longing to be loved;
probably why I was skipping a few places in life, cos my
disc was scratched

It didn't feel so real in the moment: so fictional; all in the
fixations of an imagery room, filled with unimaginable
dreams. I dreamt about falling in love, but never dreamt
about getting this far

It felt strange, as an anxious mystery before
the next turn of the author's page
Never having the authority to control who we
fall in love with. Regardless, it did not stop me from taking
the authority to buy you flowers- my once pretty flower

"Could she smell my intentions a mile away"
Or rather smell the inexperience I have
when it all comes to love

I could say I love you easily,
but never take it well, being said back in turn
Words of affirmation, non affirmed by an affirmative
upbringing. Never my strongest love language, spoken
only in signs, growls and random sighs
Quickly avoiding a long hug, and saying just a hie

///Hello, opening conversation to an open topic
     in the air. Same place where we all catch a love sickness
     Knees of course in their weakness—mostly blushing
     over each other's sweetness. The tape's signature brown
     memories got tackled up in my heart's radio. Untangled
     now from you—I can't play you anymore to remember it all
                  guessing now it's finally the end of these love tapes \\

      ...but I still love you, for the record

At level best; degress, it's a little more stress
Swallowed my words into an opinionated self digest
Throwing out my heart, throwing pride off my chest
I'm about to throw up—ugh I'm so depressed

My usual visual suicide; thoughts about dying young
I could never afford the cost, from the tears of my mom
And the fears of my dad thinking he never did enough
Searching deep in my insides, for the guts to commit
to that first cut. My fingers ticking from anxiety;
at random times of a pendulum clock
Swinging, and swinging, in deep thoughts swimming
And I wasn't that holy type; not as much as my mom
—unless you consider the holes in my socks
Social degenerate; a little too generous: careless giving
Seasoned professional of a winter heart, with a homely
fire place of love

But let me check my mental state,
Territory of all my made up states,
Stating an expression of his face; or so he said
So many questions on my mental state:

How is your mental state,
             "oh not so great"

Thinking about suicide today,
 "yeah; it's basically everyday"

Do you trust yourself around a knife,
  "a sharp pen makes me think twice"

Did their joking words hurt you again,
    "always; especially my close friends"

Is it all green emeralds, or a pink diamond life,
         "just the envy, and blushing over suicide"

Had you cut yourself at least once before,
"close I got, was scraping myself with a
                                bathroom stone"

Yeah that's not right...

But the words cut me to explain this pain,
I have a ****** tongue; stuck at just another fullstop
Round the corner of a fool's stop; perhaps on the run
Heading nowhere, from places I never knew I'd come
—to these terms of agreement; writing realistically
of feeling fearless. Might of misjudged my feelings

Drinking over until the night is over,
Alcohol bravery to say things I can never say being sober
At home going all out with friends; woke up naked in my bed
Couldn't remember a thing, still it feels good to pretend.
Prayed a hot sweat; couldn't asked for forgiveness out of breath
Not as good as having ***—I wouldn't know how, trying to explain
those kind of past events. Still it feels good to pretend

Lord don't save me from myself,
Save those around me, from dealing with another
version of myself. My secret multiple personality traits
                                  ...Jesus; forgive my mental state

To anyone who cares enough to care for me, though I couldn't care enough myself...

Take care!

Sigh; why does everything I write turn out to be a poem? Why did I have to be the one so attached to their emotions? Why couldn't I have been a doctor,  a lawyer or even a **** mechanic? Instead I'm just this hopeless unheard poet.

I envy people for not what they have, but what I can never be. I can't be a man, and I'd never be a pretty enough woman. Can't stand up for myself, but constantly get cut down when I stand up for others. I've been labelled a ***** by my own brothers.

I know they don't say it in person- but I hear their thoughts in all those disappointing sighs.
And I've disappointed all the women in my life, and still act hopeful that I'll get a wife.

I'm bullied by friends, bullied by strangers Bullied by family, bullied by myself and people's impatience.

This wasn't supposed to be a poem!

Maybe it's a rant; maybe it's a way to cheer me up for not feeling like a man. Thinking about death while listening to jazz. Seems like I'm still far from the end, of a slow death.

Why won't I fall short out of breath, why won't God put me out of my misery because it's a misery being such a disappointment.

I can't trust my dreams, as they lead me to nothing good to hold onto. I trusted someone else's advice, and got accused by them; for being so stupid to listen to them. Then again;
I'd still take their advice again and again

I've been accused of being gay, and maybe my life would have been better if I swung that way.
But okay I could accept that accusation- still not when people say I'm so spoiled, to spoil my mood. Now I'm always doing things just for something to prove.

This wasn't supposed to be a poem!

I guess I couldn't stop these words from flowing. I'm just caught up in my usual emotions.

A note to some, noteworthy ending remarks.
For every tissue to a tear, is a tear to a new scar.

A suicide note to a public, in secret, away from family and friends. I'll be gone by this moment's end- saying goodbye to the old me. See you in ten..

                      surely this is now an end.

Open wide eyes searching for a connection
Despite her glass tongue that
had cut you down in crude remarks
In regards to how they see you-
as good as not seeing you at all

The sadness of one
could be the joy of someone looking at
it from an achieved hand
They would laugh publicly; but in secret
be sad too. No-one can escape a moment of feeling so insecure

Oh carry on, or
be carried off by time
Carry your warm heart, or
it will carry a chill in it's spine
All as revenge served on
a cold dish; is dishing out poison
to your own soul

Oh spare yourself the waste, of
sparingly been used as a fool
Working on yourself, or
being worked off as a tool

really you're the one to choose;
choices all dependant on you

Pockets swole-
brokenness or dreams
Wells of my eyes-
sunken boredem or teary streams
As much; a military mind
doesn't walk into things- it's a march

Spring in that old step
whether in situations of a new season
The first key to making a moment
a keeper. I was at first a creeper,
a non believer; before a careless dreamer

it all ends in tears-
of joy or pain
all decided by how you act
under life's grey, and the rain

Bones into the many ashes
dust in amongst the surface
The tithes of time; in service
of the hands running on the clock
Church bell hyms to the mountain
tops of heavens close to the hills
Oh Churchill- searching in my eyes of a servant; serving a King

                  ...I rise in bravery on this hill

|as slow as a night rider
comes; i've been on the low
driving nowhere nearest to the sun
all heated up over your love
stayed overnight, spending that night
under those stars- i was lost in your eyes

...and i'm hoping time slows for me to
                       stay trapped in this night

Under the tears of  a tiny whisper
may I find peace in your  love
Under it's  surface; waving calm goodbyes and it's scenic few

What washes away old
brings forward something anew
Like as being under the ocean moon-
at times so blue; but in the end it was all so beautiful...

Only human; as it seems
Fallen into sin when falling onto my
repenting knees
Saying cheese to the screens,
stuck in a lens of eyes to capture my dreams

Was dead at times, when I felt alive
Questioning myself around the ideas of suicide
Out of sight, out of my mind,
still in this out of foresight and feeling drunk out of mind
Numb to the fact of not being treated well in kind, for my kind

Still that's human- at most when you all know you're a little broken
A clock for hearts; ticking slowly in the circles love
gave us for being too open
Proceed with caution; judging the proceedings of
reasoning your one focus

The forecast today:

Under the cloudy weather, it doesn't all have to be grey
It's okay to not be okay,
you don't have to picture yourself a perfect person, if it's not an easy picture to portray

It's okay to not be okay,
just be the best version of yourself day by day

It's going to be okay

Falling into love, falling out time
Falling out of reasons to keep you in my mind
Don't know where I'm going
I just hope I'm running my way to you
Everybody wants love, I don't want a love without you
I'm just falling, please don't let me fall away you

Finding my way in new seasons,
Finding my way to you
Haunted by my exes, telling me I'm a fool
I could sing a thousand songs, to be in tune with you

All of the kings, have all of the queens
All of the ghosts are living inside of me
And I can't save myself
But I'll save my love for you

And it haunts me knowing I'll fall in love
Touched by inner spirits of the spirit of love
I've opened heart before, till love haunting it's house
I'm haunted by a past, haunted by insecurities,
waiting to be haunted by you— don't you ever call me boo

| Gold in your eyes
  black immorals leave you blind

| Immortal pain, forever will they cry
  as you try to decide of all the written
  messages on the wall, you want to reply

| You're like a worker of the night,
   living in the city heights, trying to get high
   Success gives you a fright; you couldn't see yourself
    well in all those bright lights

| Grinding at work, grinding with a girl afterwards
   on a wall. Your job is to answer customer's call,
  And you also had this pretty ******* call; and you
   two did some damage to the wall

| Trying to patch it up, like you tried with an ex
   you got drunk a little extra, in an empty bathtub
    shower, sending her drunk texts
  She thought you were just looking for ***,
  you threw your phone at the wall—it made a mess
  She obviously could smell your intentions with the
   alcohol under your breath

| So you screamed at the wall,
   "I hate you, I hate you all," as always to that wall
  But it wasn't the people you were referring to at all
   it was just at all your personalities, that you only know
  New friends started knocking on the bathroom door,
   people you never knew at all. They found you bouncing
   your anger on the wall, bawling your eyes out on the floor

| You used to have such good conversations with
   the walls; listening to you intentionally
  You filled them with your punches whenever you
   felt empty. Did so, so plenty and affectionately,
   as those walls could credit your pain, with great credibility

| Yours was an unmatched ability
   to tell a good story to an inanimate object so brilliantly
  Wilfully, cutting yourself so short equally,
   as time kissed you on your spine secretly, to pull you
   back in time- minutely, to reminisce on that girl Tiffany

| She was a blonde; only by her kind of dye
   she looked straight through you; only by
    that black eyeliner on her pretty eyes
   She made you seem a sweet tooth addict; only
    by the many times you tasted her cherry pie
   A cherished walk by; she was sort of bi- buying
    your heart both in and out.
   The number of times you told her, "I love you,"
    you'd probably lose count

| Now you just have that wall of where you
   first kissed
  Where you first embraced, and she accepted you
   with your random lisp
   Sharing your clothes of your blue collar salary,
    making sure it came back ironed so crisp
   Supersoaker eyes after— the only catch you had,
    after a long time you had fished

| In two deep, but all you have are these walls;
   they won't talk back to you. But they talk about
   your ex girl. ****, ****, **** these talking walls

Pictures with strangers, perhaps with the fame

I haven’t been the same; unrecognizable even with
all these fans screaming my name

There’s always a price to entertain

I entered into a much louder desperation out of my
old depression's gate. But still lying about feeling great

Still I’m among all of the greats; those who've tasted fame

Anyways, one lick of it made me sick— thick legs always
any easy pick, but I never thought I’d call someone a *****

It’s quite rich, like I am; still with his poor tastes

All these make-ups on a face; making up for your pain
make up ***, made up ideas from sexting texts

It felt a given, it would all take away my innocence

Feeling caught always in the thrill of them cheering my
brilliance; masking how it kills my feelings

To now feeling more worried about my appealing

“How’s my appearance,” factoring those experiences
would they still take me less than serious

Sort of shook hands with the president

Still preferred the picture; not being in a picture with him,
looking like I live on his immoral morals like a resident

Paranoid paradise: so relaxed on being anxious

The camera flashes always judge my actions,
calling me old fashioned. Not fashioned in those factions

Overthinking what to put under my caption

Capture a moment, but the camera lens is the only forever
lasting smile; soon I’ll be turning into Mr Passive

Still I had a passion, beforehand

Fame served me a lot to handle in a forehand, nobody
understands the grip of fame in Hollywood’s tight hand

Serving you free chicken

*******, and thighs— Bets and thongs, a high supply
of different women. Swallowing their pride and your children

A million dollar tub, but still feeling filthy

“Oh really, you think you can have your soul back,”
the devil now outside, once only one within me

I made a deal to die at fifty

Knowing the fame won’t last me that long, feeding myself
to an empty richness. So **** greedy!

But hey, I guess I made it

What would have been the chances; still if only I had
waited a little longer for God’s right answers.

But hey mama, I’m famous...

Life is a magnet;

Attracting what we like

Retracting statements;

Only after society's pushback

Hearts sometimes made of iron;

Irony seeing a hard life through soft eyes

As people are meant to be deep oceans;

But a man swims shallow— afraid to cry

Deepened by the weary of provision

Yet not provided a listening ear

She calls, "why won't you come near"

He's a magnet, pushed in a corner by fears

         ...trapped in society's magnetic fields

falling in love,
all the falling
leaves-
it hurts to hit
that ground
falling out of love
all my falling
hairs-
didn't the strands of
our time been so cut
short
your memory resides;
slowly receding

falling in love
all these falling
stars-
once in a sky
of a thousand
wishful kisses
falling out of love
it's a fall out into
trading the tiny dots
of stars, to scars

falling, falling
falling —seems human
to fall in and out
of something

i'm constantly falling;
waiting to be
caught by
true love

Surrounding backgrounds, backdrops that empty glass eye
Ringing in your head; no means to pretend pretence
—always a means to an end. Like a long goodbye to an
old friend still one who owes you tens

A decade of friendship in these confused lines —you onced
slept with one of the guys. Not around, but a lot of times with
the same person, to say at least you've gone a few rounds
The only one to make you come out of a shell; fuelling up
the tank of a monthly desire. But you couldn't tell your friends; despite feeling sensations good as Heaven on earth— their preying
eye opinions would give you a lot of hell.

Still last night was one hell of a night, as he held you so
tight, a knight guarding you from those nightmares
As he tasted your lips, and tears while seeing all those
dark scars under your white night dress

Said, "you're too dark to be found by love," your usual
yellowbone cousins liked to make such comments.
You felt too ashamed to go play with the other kids on the
sunny beach. And it stained your heart; once trying yourself
to bleach

You just forgot your feet; a foot in your mouth kicking back
your words. Unlike the other girls, he liked you more
for trying to stick to your morals. Floral, a scented glow-
a light smell of tragic beauty caught under his nose
Some nights hoping you'd be court, but in your family regards,
you're breaking tradition's law.

Lore beliefs, feeling seven days kind of weak, and it felt
so stranger that you fell in love with him in a week
It took a trip on this crazy life journey, for you to be riding
this long love trip. But he was only meant to be a friend
still it benefited you knowing he had seen you as more than
that from back then

But those still living behind, say you and him don't mix
into a good kind. As to mean the dark can't kiss a light,
such mean judgments, regardless of it being a modern relationship.
It's an old mindset, and I know he won't mind keeping it in secret
But it will all stay stuck in your mind, along with him

Oh my friend,
how'd I ever give the best advice to your situation
But only say and imagination that Adam and Eve
we're black and white. So wouldn't we have been
interracial from our creation?

| a remedy to life
   swallow sunsets- be a little bright
inside. Shine in the night; knight guard
  the day, don't forget to pray.

  treat life sweetly; a lollipop- sometimes
   it *****. A crazy chocolate, you're acting
    a little nuts.

  be ashamed of letting yourself feel
   ashamed, deal with shame to not turn red
when they mention your name.

| life is a few sips of water; no need to rush
    to it's bottom. Take your time
   be patient in patience impatience
  what can't be controlled,— let go
let go at times to gain back control by tomorrow.

   don't spill the remedy, don't drunkenly drink
     till empty. Just sip this remedy at a ready
              .....it's untitled remedy

Burnt out heroes
in amongst the burning plans of villains
Fearless- in amongst trying to be like your heroes
within comic feelings. Sounds comic; chiefly
read in pages of a lifestyle. Naked eye strips,
greyish looks of cloud lids filled with rain in my
eyes

Heaven is crying every night, a thousand
angels in a stormy night
Reminiscing fallen angels from that hole
in the sky. Human are too fallen; those lost
of conduct or virtue- a hole in their soul's closet
the devil that urge you. Church who; probed
questions of your faith to search you.
As I refer to you being trapped in your mind
off it's strict curfew

Even as a role model plays a perfect smile
there's still an act to keep thoroughly
But in that case when fans aren't around,
their face peels away the skins of lie
No need to practice your lines
no need to pretend to be a star out of Hollywood
like light's shine. Shyly acting free!
The end of the scene, a role model no longer blind
when they're now unseen

Skin grey
un rubbed emotions, and cracking sounds
drawing river lines on the skins display
All applauds are gone; just you clapping by
yourself under the clap of thunderstorms
Still feeling empty, even with the person you
brought home, bought home- to come and practice
those secrets tabs of your chrome

At times trying to be anti pessimistic
anti climatic, of all you've achieved and all
those childhood wishes
Swimming with the ugly fishes; selfish needs
you couldn't have had before
It's the role models, having crowds dancing
to their tune, all pressing their head on the floor
Can't mask a flaw, only disguising it until
it all comes out in the world

No role models left,
just the ashes of their dead careers and
immediate deaths. O yes, success tickles
the ears—as common sense becomes so deaf
All is grey, grey is the colour of my heroes,
forgetting they all started as imperfect people

A taste of life:
green mangoes dipped in
vinegar and salt
None distilled moments
rising worries on top your head- a malt
You keep blaming yourself;
worried and pressed strain on cheeks
Squeezing in a sting of pain
as the first and long taste of something sweet

Pools of spit
flowing unrest in the society
of oppressed people
How not to speak in a place
that has you swallow a needle
The lethal poison of dying tastefully
******* bullets—oh what a steel
They robbed your opinion, with their
own stronger opinion over yours
It's always the problem of a bigger
world; you can never speak against a first
world country. Clench your jaws, and grab
a gun— we're about to fight their wars

The taste of blood
you taste out of a ****** nose
We're torn in our hearts, torn in
our clothes—killing the look of wearing
bullet holes
Gold digging in pockets by the mines
of minors—still a bunch of hoes
Growing up in the dark gardens made of
weeds. You've crowned yourself in shame,
but call yourself king and queen

The taste of failure in the world
the taste of expired goods in a first bite
An approach to running into conclusions,
delusions of subtle uneasiness, of seeing a
roach in a supermarket pie

It's like wanting to die, but not having the
means to afford a less painful suicide
So you keep pushing on in this distasteful
life —dying inside. It all tastes so vile!

Why won't my tongue go numb
to the displease of not tasting success
Failure feels like a chilli cough stuck
in your chest. Depends on how well
you can cope with being depressed

You'll acquire all the tastes you
like, but also know so well the tastes
so vile of life. All acquired tastes

In the depth of the night
in the dead silent- thinking about suicide as a pass time
Wondering if I was a killer in my past life,
a passing life, passing interests in unfamiliar colours
In amongst the ideals of some men, not so ideal for others
close mindsets, but ideas all distant cousins
In an irony cliche— all the racism one could give
words seeming much darker on criticizing a dark skin

Throwing a scissors in the sea
cutting my blues, and slicing a sharp mind's eye
But I'm still a little blind in my doubts for a future to see
Fortunes match the brave; misery paved in the ways
of yesterday's mistakes. Not as concrete to proudly say
I belong to the streets
Simply cos of a veranda setting; I'm sort of in between,
in between crying in reality, and being lost in dreams
in between tucking hope, or untidy faithfulness of a loose belt
I smelt the wettness of her eyes, a shattered mirror of pain I felt
ice in her knees; she buckled sometimes in love
A girl who told me her story- un glory, the unholy of feeding
a desire, quicken by how many times the flesh will starve

A little boy in the corner forced to be a man
cornered by unrealistic rules to a hustle and sketchy plans
"I don't know what I'm doing," he says to those who don't
understand. "You're not a man if not blown by a woman's
gagging words, to say you've got a fan," so said the always
abused man

Cycle of events
the wheel of misfortunes, and a tired cliche
But who actually listens anyway- we all like to
pretend we're okay. Just moving on with our days,
mundane experiences; Monday blues everyday slowly
becoming serious. Series of events, another episode
in the seasonal depression, sleeping restless, in the
oppressiveness, and my saddened aggressiveness.

Feeling as less —don't you realize we're
all a little sad. Life that has made you feeble;
we're all sometimes this sad people
Sad people, sad people, sad people

Learning on how to pray—kids without suits or ties
Trying to make tradeoffs for mercy, with our
little pocket change for tithes

"I need to change" I say on the Sunday
"don't forget about that sermon," by Monday
trying to keep my weight all on the Tuesday

Forgetful as always on Wednesday
thirsty in my spirit and my flesh by Thursday
planning out how to sin on the highs of Friday
my throat is too dry for asking for forgiveness by
the end of Saturday

So glad to make it back again to another Sunday

To love to be loved
letting being known that I'm only trying
Still don't know how much time I have
to fill up one of my cups
Still being charmed by these scars
still chasing the rush, like a dog chasing cars

And still it's not over until you've said it's over
posing questions- am I still worthy
and not just a poser

Yes, I am still worthy, in the openness of
my faith; my God that calls me closer
Here's the closer, the curtains soon fall
towards the end. A never-ending endeavour,
we live in a world only to last a moment
And in heaven we'll be golden forever, and
ever, Amen.

A pitter-patter chorus in memory
plays a tune; yesterday's rain stuck
in the trees

A bird's whistle, a steaming cup
of rooibos watermelon & mint tea
waters both trapped in leaves

A dusty floor, swept and tucked under
a warm blanket- lost in the sounds
soundly sleeping I was

A sun peeps out of the corner cloud,
an after clearing of grey smoke, whispering mist
muddy water splash; split by passing cars

A creaking old door, swinging into the
mood of things- moving out of a dream,
I relocate into my very first step

A morning orchestra, as I yawn loudly as brass
instruments. The bells rings to wake me up
from this dream, and out of my bed

                        ...yet to face another morning

Dusty eyes- ***** looks
kissed by rust for lips; a bit rusty
from the last I've kissed
My tongue tied in my teeth,
compliments have faded into blue
once a someone for loving you—but now treated
as no-one important after I broke up with you
                          ~towards my exes

I cry in secret under the dark of a dim
lit screen. Finger typing, stereotype reminiscing
on ill talk hidden under a voice tone
I translate your body language well- you're angry
at the sight of me. Disappointed, annoyed, bitter
towards what you've concluded by sight
                       ~towards all people

Only when I pour my heart out
you have no words to utter a comment or
recognition out of your mouth
And as I write out of a passing meaningless
thought- seems you have so much to say
Giving a ridiculous fee towards the recognition
I'm always forced to pay
            ~towards publications and peers

You make me feel less—no I've come to
always expect less. I've made myself less
Under stress, standing underneath society's
umbrella term of being successful
But haven't I already succeeded in being humble,
caring, understanding- being myself

It all seems impossible to actually be yourself
and somebody else wants to be somebody else
Who then nowadays is actually being themselves?

He was born from the darkness of man's sin-
a monster, a vengeful spirit, and a barter of death
A whisper of an end resides in his breath; and swallows  
up all in it's deathly grey cigarette stench

You'll find him at the edge,
you'll hear him creeping in every corners crack
He will follow by day
as a shadow of every lonely previous night
He'll shine on all your fears before you sleep;
he'll chase you in your dreams—cutting the images of all
your imaginations, a constant knife in your spine

A blade of grass,
he'll valley around your heart and water it's weeds
He'll brittle your skin, belittle you in insecurities,
and beneath his towel of hand- he'll wrap his darkness
around your neck

You'll wish upon a star,
as he's the darkness surrounding
You'll pray to a god, he'll prey on your doubts like
a pouncing predator. His fingers are a remote to
channel your anxiety- a device of your depression
Placing unworthiness in your hand, as a weapon of
your own self harm. He'll cut you from hopes, and
pierce a dagger of misery into your soul

You'll run, run into his arms that he lied a trap for you
An uncomfortable long hug, he'll ***** you until
you feel too ashamed to scream for help
He'll promise you heaven, but give you a whole lot of hell first
he'll give you his curse, he'll curse your very worth,
and leave you bare and unholy—his unworthy curse
He'll disguise his red hand with a bouquet of black roses,
but beware his thorns, beware his thorns

He'll treat you fairly in the abuse he gives
us all. He'll attack you singlehandedly, but
he has a hand in us all

His goal is to raise an army of his slaved cowards,
be weary- fear wears red, in the devil's flowers

Oh- falling to the floor
falling off the bat; a swing at love, again
It's not all the same, indifferent but still
the clueless cliché. Anyways what could
I say to not seem the clingy type
a softie sometimes, knowing he'll marry
a strong wife

A dragon, fierce fiery breath
she speaks a word of fantasy, and unlike
the rest- she has a tougher flesh, and presses away
my insecurities with an impressive hug pressing
on me with an impressive chest

Self control out of the handle of my reflection
perhaps my emotional side is never-ending
Cherished by a face that could never disguise a smile;
my awkward smile, belonging to Mr always nice guy
Confidently shy, shying away from being a razor
of cutting words to chat up a girl
My mistake to chat sensibly after a little rude talk,
mixed in those silly jokes. I choke on my physical words,
a silent face and volumes of confidence only in these poems

Club scenes are meaningless to me
meaning less of me would be less active than seen
I'm falling in between an introvert, and a little
extrovert trying to creep out a bit
It's always a risk, and amidst in the mist of dispersion
of a stretched out imagination of a ******
Told always, "you really need a girlfriend"
good at making conversation with just a girl friend
Till feelings are involved, it sort of does in my head

Spares to a secondary nature of testosterone
spiking at a random
Making passes of being a little passive- my confidence
isn't so massive, although my caring eyes and heart
are at times attractive

But I still have the eyes of a jealous man; possessive
to means if I find you as a potential. Potentially pointing
out my heart's gun to shoot around your lines
I'll still be a little awkward saying my hie, and wanting
long hugs goodbyes

I'm just so sorry for being this constant shy guy

If it were colours & dreams
my mind wouldn't sit still
While chasing an army-
my mind knew the drill
A beautiful face stuck in history
with no place to go
I must have missed the mystery
of the lands I've never explored
And while going out into the world
my mind was suddenly whirled
All on the wheels of fortunes, I was
so fortunate to find all I that I deserved

In an ignorant galaxy in the space
of my clouded mind
It was a beauty of ignorance that
showed my character was so sublime
A finite mind of infinite ideas; doesn't
have enough of the time
I was blind to me destiny, and destined
to sometimes fail
And coming to terms of pre-events, you start
to learn to more after you fail, and to prevail
You can't be a captain- with no strength to your sail
and you may escape the world, but an ignorant mind
still prisons you it's in jail

I've conquered an ocean
in the occasion of a blue moon
Was drawn by my foolish nostalgia
as well as a Saturday morning cartoon
A journey so long, but it's far from through
I'm not done with this world -I've got so much more to do

And if it fills like I'm falling
out of heaven- just let me fall, fall, fall
I won't be falling for far too long

On an open road, to open a world of a stranger's eyes
as the light in mine had lost its shine.
And what once was love or desire had been
thrown in time and consumed by it's fire

I was searching for something,
searching for someone...

I met an old man who wasn't okay- he said out of a
hanging cigarette, "son I'm doing drugs to **** the pain today
While lying to my family and pushing friends away,
as I'm nothing **** perfect, but I'm perfectly imperfect.
I never knew purpose, and maybe God did it on purpose"

He jumped of the edge of his dreams inside of his head,
in a colourless world —all passions were dead
in the grey smoke of cigarettes; he said, "son don't you see
I haven't prayed in awhile and can't crack a smile
I've been living on the line, but it's not drawing me still
I got children to feed, a nagging wife to satisfy and a house
of unpaid bills. I got ash in my lungs and a chimney throat,
I cough like a **** exhaust, and I'm exhausted beyond"

He didn't trust any man, or listen to gods,
his face was kind of odd, as his problems were round
Going in circles; he said, "son don't just believe a
beautiful title to a scene- you'd best **** believe that
there's more things hidden between. While praying on
your needs, some are embarrassed to pray on their knees
It's a deaf kind of silence before a man's defeat,
but you still have some time to deal with your grief
And life may take it from you, but it can't take all you
have to give. Son you best believe"

"Let your imaginations take you to places unseen
and don't let them trouble you of youth
Or let them tie you down in your shoes,
you've got nothing to prove- lest you proving how to lose
And don't lose yourself in this broken world, else you'll
end up searching for yourself. Don't look at me as a
stranger- I'm a reflection of yourself"

"We're not strangers in this this world
we're just living in a strange world"

subtly, subtly does the depression
rip me apart- a part of me
burning, it's all concerning and
undeserving—unnerving under my skin
i wish I could be a different person.

Who am l, who am I?

I....am the representation of all depression
in the darkest thoughts, all chasing- not to mention
The deception of what is my self-esteem,
a passive aggressive; less than the self taught lessons
a dog chasing it's tail, in a ball of tears my eyes are
always fetching.

I am depression: a random whisper of sadness
this is my depression who robs my gladness
A quiet madness, maddening villain; a saddening
million dark thoughts- non making sense but just bad dealing
I choke myself on awkward feelings, cutting myself
with the sharp thoughts of over thinking

I am depression: who makes you feel like everyone
else is in their well order. "You don't have much time to
make something of yourself, you’re getting much older"
Pour me tears of cringy replays, poor me could have
done better. People who pierce you, asking aren't
you supposed to be clever

I am depression: making you question everything
in anxiety's language. You're in a perfect imbalance,
impasse- a dead end in your head. Cornered, cornered!

This is depression, in it's usual session, an unhealthy
obsession to beg the question: is this out of your
compression? Comprehensive over spending, a penny for
a thought-in the end to only self lessen

I pray to the Lord that this feeling doesn't follow,
and if so, I don't want tomorrow.

Falling angels as a constant of falling rains

a hole in the sky, a chasm in my brain

anxiety, and delusional ways

waiting, waiting in an empty room's calling

whispers of darkness in the lightness of unrighteous

wickedly ill, sickening thoughts vomiting onto ink

it hurts to think, so the others go and think for me

I have DID-oh really; who then is in control

One holds the steering; is leading and sometimes brave

another's eyes on the road; positive and always looking forward

the other stares out of the window, prefers to be left alone

she otherwise sits in the centre keeping the peace, and loving

the other is the corny **** with jokes of cheese, not so serious

I've locked the beast in the truck- can't let that darkness out

| Your body at first a stranger to my foreign kisses
   Learning how to speak another language in French kisses
  Ice cream painted lips of cherry lipstick, for licking kisses
I've inhaled your passion many a times in breath kisses
   And catching all stomach butterflies of butterfly kisses

Turn the lights a little low- you'll have a morning glow,
  from the bathroom, on the sofa, and the carpet floor
Rubber bands in my hand, trying to stretch you out; I had
     a lot to say, but the words got lost in your mouth
Hold my supplies, and grind on my belt—point the places
I never felt. Watching shivers of ice on your back slowly melt

| Your eyes running like bath water
   Want to dive deep in your thoughts like pool water
   Trying to train myself to breathe under water
      Pocket full of love- can't you see like sea water
Trying to quench my thirst like you're a glass of water
      And I hope you drown me in that body water

Singing a chorus of that body's natural tone,
about to overload, over the low areas sending tingles
  to already curling toes. I smelt the readiness of your body
   with the drips of scent stuck on my nose. Open to close
  the deal- peeling slowly your heavy clothes
      Entwining both of our ready and longing souls

|  Velvet skin-smooth and teasing to every bite
      Sensations running under skin in a sensitive bite
     Marking all the places I own with a territorial love bite
      And what's the point of a bark without a harsher bite

     Be at your best, stay at your best, I'd say it with my chest
        at your breast; you obviously guest that we'd lay in
     Our little love nest. Going down your West, and making
         the best effort- leaving nothing less, just to impress

| The weird, wonderful and I
   lost in a wash of dreams—or was it
    just my tears? I fell in love in your glaring eyes
  Omission, and my hiatus from personal friends
    bad omens about bad luck
  You were just a chum I'd hate to meet,
   with all of my charm and ice cream bucks
    a lick of paint white to coat our insecurities

I'll admit all the ones I love all just bully me-never picked
on by jealousy, but just the people who love to test me
I never had the time to state the plans; but I would
mark my territory in all your memories land
Honest; I'd light the passion we both shared again
if I worked more on my pyrokinesis powers
My heart stays warm over you, I just pray you don't end
up bullying me too

| I swear it doesn't feel like my first time
   practicing with myself probably last night
  But I'm going to be shy; wrapping it tight to the fit
   still without a ****** for my heart—I'm going
     to be love sick. Our sheets are going to be ******
  And I still hope by that time we both are too

We could have a good time, and not feel so pressured cos
we're both so shy. I can't always be this romantic guy
Let's both stay connected; as long as we don't change
our heart's codes to the WiFi
Just a little private time after pillow talk in this chat room
bury my past lovers in a present's future tomb

...let's shoot for love, and fall for each other like shooting stars

—this a dreaming past
a touch from God, glimmer of hope
in terms of giving someone else their
turn. let live what you earned, never
dessert what you deserve

serve up the sweet course of your worth
but do not let it be spoiled by any who
cannot see it for what it is

funeral tears
black curtains over eyes
darkness consumes the lonely night
under the lunar eclipse of a lunatic
the craze of loneliness, despair,
unpleasant dreams—fears of an uncalled
bloodline bleeding the pain of lost love
fixating eyes, on the sights to starve
flashing desires; and a blink of time
time is short, as are these words

...in all, I'll always be this tragic poem

a sound of loneliness
—the single man in the other room
listening to peer's ***
the heavy eyes of knowing you'll
only see your tears every night
sigh; he's empty, much more than
the room of air and empty thoughts
his comfort is only his words, a lowly
dimmed phone, penning his thoughts
into notes—a sad poem

so unfortunate that he has to start
his new year alone

                             @the sad poet

On a dark and stormy night,
I was born out of a place without any lights
A nurse and doctor looked at me less
More than they'd expect a child to fix a world—yet being a mess
The clouds were heavy, heaven was empty
And I tricked myself that it was because the Lord had sent me
An angel was with me, but still with a devil within me
Question of sin by a seed, growing like a black willow tree
I was born a writer; with no right to be inspiring
In spite of things, my desire is to speak all the right things

To say you'd stack your success in columns
Sort of feels common; knowledge to mind
All your steps, like you have mind powers
Less successful in the things I did, all uneventful
Quite dreadful, of a sucky life with a hint of menthol
These opinions put over my head all affect my mental
Deep pressed, feeling the pressures of always being depressed
So hard to wear your heart on sleeves, when you wear a vest

With this self opposition, and man's superiority competition
Sometimes forgetting you're Christian, and it's composition
With all the respect for all our women, their first time christen
And with the guidance of someone else's wisdom
To avoid all those mistakes, and repetition

Who else do I need to show respect, for respect back
For being young comes with baggage your adult self will
have to unpack. Getting kicked in your past,
For wanting to kickback and relax;
As you've never completed a difficult task
That an adult never had the time to ask or surpass

That was my childhood, putting me in a foul mood
And life's birds of prey looked at me as child food
Still growing in a pretty beating moment, and it empowers
Because I wouldn't be me without reminiscing on my
hearts and flowers.

A body to face fatigue
All in a world of make believe
As love makes me weak in the knees
Also blowing my mind like leaves off a tree
Always missing the misfortune of someone's glee
As it seems common paying a fee to be free
And the R is really the real realness of all of we
As rhyming is easy, but the rhythm not as peasy
A little melted cheddar on a ****—all for anyone
calling my writing corny and cheesy

Be as it may, in my non constructive mysterious ways
Best believe I woke up today with some talent to display
Better to tell it as it is, maybe on the course of wordplay
Besides, life always feels like a game; to only be called strange
—to we all say oh, before an okay

Casually writing, and easily rhyming
Could be a next word of each line I'm deciding
Coarsely the can do spirit of striking another form of style, yet
we don't know if it's the same place of this twice striking lightening

Duality done by the dues of a dualing two
Doesn't make much sense in fighting a battle you're
always meant to lose

Excess mentality of my supposed masculinity
Exactly what it takes of a world to belittle me

For the focus of an unfocused mind lacks the right sight
Fixed enlightenment could mean being honoured on
the bright side

Galloping choices aren't the ones to remain stable
Goodnight kisses are of course a lover's choice,
of having butterflies by their naval

Hurry home to be whole on a homely manner
Homemade appearances don't share enough
experiences, even if being the best planner

I know my greatest faults, and I must admit
It is the hardest thing to speak out your failures,
even just a bit

Juggling time is liken to throwing it all for the air
Just don't be surprised when you don't catch it all,
and want to complain about life being so unfair

Kindness in modern times has become a self taboo
Knowing that you could give a hand, but they'd
always want something more from you

Laziness is all any one of us can share at a given
Lazarus could have laid in his tomb a little longer, but the call
of Jesus wasn't lazy, and both weren't too lazy to be risen

Money is the root of all evil
—perhaps to those buried in wealth
More as with selfish intent, only taking you to think
about yourself

None is greater than another if ever told
Neither can escape getting old, at once being owed,
and being owned by their own contradicting words of bold

Opposites do attract
Oppositions do want to settle things in a match
Opportunity is open to all hands; just learn early
on how to catch

Passive thought delays passion
Past mistakes tied to the mind, delays you massive
in doing an action

Quiet thoughts are a quiet night of all beautiful stars
Quality is the above all of quantity, when showing
exactly who you are

Rarely do you know your destination at the beginning
Revel in the journey, it's self discovery, and all the
lessons in your proceeding

Somewhat of our being wants to be something
Someone out there has it all, yet feels like nothing

Teeth help frame out a pretty smile
The same of which can frame out a disguise to
tell a pretty lie, once in a while

Under the skin of a sinner, is the skin of guilt felt
Unfortunately the guilt of some is all in vein,
to not have those sins swiftly dealt

Variety isn't always a guarantee of various options
Various people have their varies, but all depending
on various costings

Wailing about life is a life size whale in your mouth
Watch the words you say; you could drown people
with the pointless spit all coming out

X-Ray train your wisdom to see through deceit
Xylophone train your ears to hear the scale of hidden
meanings behind one's proud speech

Young were we all at a time
You yourself are the one to decide the end of your prime

Zero tolerance to those who say you don't matter
Zealous character is in high demand; no matter your
age, ***, upbringing, religion, and personality—you
are here for a reason, and not to be cut off from life
like a cancer

...as from A to Z, we are all special deep in our DNA,
                                                     both you and me

Silent things
Silent sins, and it's silent king

Silence in all but once perfect dreams
Silence the lambs of their bleeding sheep

Silent are the hills of the new mountains & their peaks
Silent pauses; a man wondering if still good in the sheets

Silence is the violence of a mind without any peace
Silence in the times of a writer's block searching for a piece

Silent responses for a lover begging on their knees
Silent witness to the crime of love scripted on life's t.v. screens

All wanting of a silent death;
in the end—death comes much closer in every breath
Pain hurts more in silence, but it's voice often remains silent