Songbird
resting in the tree
As an early winter leaf
is kidnapped by winds

The buried seed
in the dark, comes to light—all to see
Where there is shelter
under it's shade of canopy

And dancing fox's tail
entail such details of her redwood
It has filled my eyes with glee
to see something growing so free

As true strength of roots
is the patience we must have, and give
So like this morning wood,
does its growth be strong remarks as it appears

    Listen to the tree leaf by winds
    And the buried seed of canopy,
    All to see—growing free, and
    Give strong remarks as it appears

I'm just a man
fighting to be a man
I know my words are soft,
my hands, and skin too
Would you regard me a gentleman

I have a pretty smile
but always so shy to smile
I'm attracted by warm cuddles,
hugs, and kisses too
Would you call me a weird guy

I love the scent of flowers
distracted by pretty flowers
There's sweet perfumes in my room,
clothes, and berry lotion too
Would you think as me among cowards

I'm pretty much, the ironic pretty guy.

There are only a few people
I'd trust to:
resite my deepest poem

So few people to flip over my heart
on the worth of a coin

When you have so many idol's
who eventually seem so idle on inspiration

You think you know your heroes
Until they fail
to only then realize—
we're all still human

Sometimes foolish

To be around so little people, to remind
you it's ok in a harsh occasion

But lately that's what I've come to find
realest in all my unreal imagines
And choosing to still be happy in all
the strangest of happenings

Tell me who hasn't met daily tragedy

When you've done so much
but it never feels like enough,
or whether you've given it your best start

As when you've been fooled into
being a successful man early, is mandatory
                   "Better know how to provide
                                        for your family"

I'm still stuck on the idea of providing
for self
And the selfish me, of wanting to enjoy
my wealth by myself

Call me selfish for seeking
my own independence

Till I rest my case,
I guess I'm destined to be restless

Two strangers at a party don’t know what to say
My dancing moves aren’t so great
Stiff as a cane
I feel so much comfortable at my place
Awkward start

Single to mingle
But don’t know how to act
Driving up the words, must of missed all the signs
Missing the signal
Stuck in a house with a crowd of party people
I’m stuck in the mud

And you’d say
That you want to runaway, so let’s get out of here
And not tell any of our friends
Leave them chasing their trends, I’ll be running fingers
Through your curly hair
Not so smart

Single to mingle
But don’t know how to act
Driving up the words, must of missed all the signs
Missing the signal
Stuck in a house with a crowd of party people
I’m stuck in the mud, had an awkward start
And it wasn’t so smart

Stand where you'd always stand
its a stampede: for us to be in one
direction of a standing
There's wisdom under my feet,
still the won't understand the miles
I've walked

As is your standard
we all have to stand for something.

Tis this song of heart
But it feels hard to sing aloud
I’m caught up in the crowd
Wondering if I’m enough, still sticking around
And by the reminder of my tears on ground
I question myself—if I’m making you proud

Tis a song I want to sing
Worship of the morning, though on broken wing
I feel robbed by the world of stolen kiss
I pray often, but often the hurt keeps me to my knees
And I’m quick to count all my fears
Stuck in this burden of my burning guilt

Tis my broken song I have only
Singing till your strength becomes my portion
Raising my arms, and heart as widely open
Redeeming those faults, and daily sorrow
Knowing only for today, you’re to decide my tomorrow
I am just a flower—waiting on yours, and power

Tis songs I sing in despair
As when life feels unfair, I know in prayer
To meet in hope, and always find you there

Lord I thank you for this song
Broken as it is, it allows the fixing in me.

I'm the
best dancer
in the dark
Under the stars
of my dreams
and moves of
light feet

We're just beautiful tragedies
all trying our best to
make beautiful
memories

If I could taste your tears
would you serve me a piece of your love
Every piece of the pain disappears
but the cracks still remain in your heart

The walls of my world are just shaking
in my deep thoughts—I am caving

Our moment is amazing,
till it ends in our farewell tears: a sight to see
But it’s so hard to see your beauty behind eyes dew
and it’s the hurt to say my last, “I love you”

A poet armed to the teeth
Bullets of words will bite underneath your skin
Street rappers threats of getting you clapped
I’m just looking for applauds, and a territory of map
Not famous for mixing my pieces with rap
Tipping hats off to those famous ones not being capped
But back to being simpler, Mr Mr do you have a reason for your demeanour

Life is not always glitter, but it does make it prettier
We’re all the beautiful creatures creeping around a world
But some would prefer—we walk around wearing fur
Life’s annoying like two babies screaming to be the loudest
And we have some weeds in our garden, disguised as pretty flowers

Life is a veld fire, in it’s aftermath
Black mass, black soil to spoil—consumed by burning passion's bath
We all have a familiar mask, the present person hiding away a past
All having a role to play, with a few long-running cast
You could live a season, and cancel out a few friends
Dealing with episodes of drama that seem not to end
We're making amends, mending hopes with bandages of faith
Always on the life journey of roads we wish we paved
Following in the steps of His life, truth, and being the way
All hoping to walk up heaven's staircase in the end

Clearing my throat, of a coughing exhaust
The fumes of voice, of this poet's words of thought
In this speech—a piece of arousing emotions
Let it rise to ear, that you hear it clear of the notions

Tis the Poet's speech, the Poet's speech.

By night:
the wet tears are vivid of our dreams
Despite the foretold of our folklore, forbidding me
the sweet nothingness of ignorance, relayed by my blissful likening
Reality will soon bride alongside what I hoped to be a moment
--still of what time we have left,  let me put pride aside to rest

Oh yes
we are all what we hope in future—beautiful creatures formed in the
dark, to only come to light by the life in our eyes
I bid you all well; in those pursuits to success...may they not cut your eyes
But inspire lessons of your successor. Do teach the young better
For that’s all we hope to do!

May your values
Be an outshine of like the stars above your room
And may you die a peaceful death, as not a corpse flipping over in tomb
as you knit your memories in fabrication of nostalgia,
Remember this; you were woven perfectly in the womb,
not of our own human understanding; still as creations


Tis destiny to be
a roadmap upon what will be the conclusion of your story
Meet your finale with joy, honour, experiences, pain,
passion, gain, acceptance, and to praise Him of glory.

Death, is an obvious inevitable,
make every moment of life memorable
Being grave to childish thoughts is pitiful,
some people try to use you as usual
Falling for looks is foolish love,
the grass is always greener on the other side—if you water it enough
Live, laugh, let go, learn, be led, to then go lead,
love, listen, have less of boastful overtones, and have fun

The poet’s words are a gun—
they could incite by what they recite
It’s up to you to choose what sort of surrender
you pen your words to
             This message is sent out to all of you.

In the paradigm of this fictional paradise—in the eyes
        Of thinking life is all about bias
On the one side, you may find me on a grey line
Or rather a grey lie; as the N is the ends, of something unfamiliar
You may slip easier while wearing slippers.

As are my best years: warm ash blowing in the wind
Time is just a mastermind, planning only to seem less everyday
I tell myself not to be afraid, of that which few will understand
   Life is unclear, as like watching scenes through filthy glass
   I only worry for the young, as still being a youth
Those trying to achieve their dreams, by the skin of their teeth
                                             With a missing tooth

But where am I even going with this,
      Fuelling insecurities to my drive.
The longest ride of galloping dark horses inside,
   I fail always to have a stable mind.
But let me hose you a little, pouring out my pain in these prose
I suppose it’s the running smell of intentions, with a running nose
   I’m cold, and flew out of the window, busy chasing my dreams.

The birds and bees—life is full of all those awkward conversations
         ***** referred to the birdseed;
         Pollen I guess is fairy dust attracting bees
    Everything eventually desires a multiply; of course to divide
The female’s thighs, adding my power of manhood, bisecting insides
     And we hope not to subtract the time we have left,
       As the final product will be the life of our child

   (I still hate math, but ironically try to make this moment count)

Seriously where am I going with this? That’s me again—
Heading nowhere, without any directions.
    I must of missed the signs; sigh
    So excuse me while I grab my thoughts—not to thwart
    And trap myself in these usual profound thoughts.
Those who love to think deep, probably can’t swim.
And if you don’t get that; blame your shallow mind.
    This is Adults swim—
                         All children kindly step outside.

Now let me talk to the mature poets in the room
I warn you, it’s grave to write like it’s always your last;
Buried as a pen in your tomb
Some would try to write good deeds in the good book,
                                                  In that waiting room.

With your holey socks; the only time you seem a fibre of holy
   Hey you! Take off your shoes, this is Holy ground
         And by the way, that was me being profound.

I’m the chaos of words...The Chaos is profound!

As easily, a leaf falls
--we sometimes fall in love
Such is a tragic beautiful nature
deep rooted, in wettest tears desire

Often to be a clasp, locking my lips
by fastening burning sensation to love
—as young, while the time is ours
We are like flowers, pretty fragile, bending
                                  to much higher powers

Do not speak to me of nature: of those
unnatural unattractive eyes, not to at least once
                     See into having ***** intentions
You’d spoil the soil of your skin, that has left
yours and my nostalgia—two kids first kiss
And what’s left of a heart, lying empty on hot
pavement, belonging to the street’s

You are the frozen tear, that cauterized me
till years. Still I’ve enjoyed such a burning passion
As perhaps by nature—why I’m so in love,
perhaps by our love nature, we have all
                      these seasons to fall in love

And it is so
as the young—explore, create, mistakes
To those regards we learn in turn
early on, to carry with us for long

Funny so
how my accent changes around white people
and I wrinkle memories I have on worn out clothes
Funny so
the sound of life hasn't an echo
and my reading voice isn't a girl's
Funny so
I read subtitles over the loud sound
and can sing a song, but read lyrics like a poem
Funny so
music can easily move your feet
yet love's symphony—makes me scared to skip a beat
Funny so
how we can smile the brightest in the dark
also telling a crooked lie through straight teeth
Funny so
how every world eventually becomes small
every person you come across—cousins yet to know
Funny so
how we call girls for dimes
but call her gold-digger later on in life
Funny so
how she calls all men dogs
but always loves barking up the wrong tree
Funny so
how we weren't taught enough about the ******
now the baby mamas we want to condemn
Funny so
we say actions speak louder than words
yet our own actions contradict the Word
Funny so
I laugh while telling a ***** joke
but will look at you as a joke, for making a dry joke
Funny so
how you can never really quench the thirst
the same way you can't water down a harsh truth
Funny so
the wife can count her *******
while the husband makes it count to always be first
Funny so
how we all have a good start, but end so poor
just like I started this piece, and don't know how to end my poem

                                    Well ****—I guess that's the end of the joke.

There’s a lowly eye
Of this Mr Lonely guy
He has a purple eye
Carrying purple tears whenever he cries

Bit the wings of a fly
Wore a serpent tail as a tie
And stole the clock of Father time
Dreamt of switching the bulb, when the sun loses its shine

He’s cocky outside
But an injured bird inside
He’d pry your eyes to melt your pride
And loved to sue any reason for suicide

As the mask only comes off at night
Slow dances with depression—what a lonely life

Seems the blind
can only see love
blind in love-
blinded to see only one

One hundred and five times going to make mistakes
And that's just the count of one day
Guess it's so hard for me to maintain
An appreciation of this above grace
Constantly going back to my old ways
No sense of care behind that repentive prayer
Why repaint that sin in another quote promise's shade
Promising this time to stay away from doing it again

It's high time I repented seriously in my next prayer

All our time is glass,
fragile hands holding onto past
live, hurt, forgive and laugh

I wish this sooner on my life, to have been taught
how to talk to girls...
how to deal with things out of my control...
how to be successful with the right morals...
how to put all my pain in all of my poems...
how to appreciate my highs amongst the lows...
how to make decisions with fact, and not a suppose
how to be tickled by the beauty of life, in between my toes...

I just wish someone taught me all of these things long before

A taste of a kiss:
oh is a memory you'd vault
your lips, onto the key of your heart
A rose—petals open under the
dew of mouth rain
As would I kiss you, I'd long to kiss
again, again, and again
A sound of grips; passionate whispers
it grips me to know I haven't kissed since long
You mist my eyes, and it's a foggy vision
to remember such a good kiss—I had my tongue
write lyrics of song

So long, so long, too long

The phone rings—reluctant
to the answer of destiny
So tis the message from God
  'you've disconnected lately'

All your friends haven fallen
in love—you've fallen out of it
Longing of a touching embrace
              'you seem so touched'

As you have tears, but cannot
cry openly, it tears your apart
Being closed in a ballads verse
          'you dance in your pain'

A thousand steps in the mile
tis a small distance to smile
If you're willing to travel afar
         'life is always a journey'

She's a **** fox, only to eyes
as a foxtrot—love's smooth,
And lovely progressive dance
     'no steps to falling in love'

I'm overjoyed to knowing nothing
as everything is still to be learnt
Mysteries bound to be of a rectify
        'may God fill your creativity'

I heard the fury of nature
as the bee that stung
my earlobe
The thunder rolling like a
stone rolling down the mountain
I was told to drink the tears of angels
in these heavens fountain
then bathed in Spirit
to be drowning

I had loved; to the increase of
the foundation under feet
with the more yet to be found
Oh the heart is so wicked
as I spend it all on every weekend

She knows me not of my vices
in the music advice of my
long dead idols
I fair any better in the lessons
of nature, death & time

As nature is pure, death is a given
and time is strange

The glee of joy
   Was a smile stolen under a cheek
A child of the sun as
   They brightly smiled at the:
Glass amber—fragile as time itself

    Precious became such a moment
And named her too
    Dear Precious, dearest first daughter
Now today born

I shall sow the land, tending the wheat
    Laying the gardens watered by my tears
    Placing at you reason to sing glory of provision
I’ll unmask the stars
   To make of a place to place your fears

Sweetly, sweetly shall my songs be as a quiet moon
   The cool of night—and whispers of good sleep
Oh shall I hold an ocean back, of the wrath of conquering
   For man would pleasuring want you as land
I pray it be the Lord who steals your heart
  Blessing your spoils to be tenfold to all others
Soon are you and I to meet

  So of this piece: saved are the words I have of you
The admiration of you my child
    Is you coming to be; soon, soon shall we meet

To serve Queen till death
a bee had stung my arm
and died

Tis nature, is it not?

Speaking in tongues in accordance of
      The audience, prior the winds of your voice
To be spoken in my ear of that accordion
      Accordingly so of the bellows—the chorus of
Love in that mellow tone of a Holy orchestra
      A symphony of the Bible; all revealing many mysteries
As I constantly read more of you

All the text setting a picture of your context
my joy is content: not like a performance
      Of this world's contest

Psalms 121:1‭-‬2 NIV
I lift up my eyes to the mountains—
    where does my help come from?
My help comes from the Lord, the Maker of heaven and earth.

So as the top would say;
I'd lift my eyes higher than the mountains
    To you Lord—
Of where my help comes from everyday

So I pray: to be humbled by your grace—
    non dependent on man to guarantee the will
Of your way
    In Jesus name I pray, Amen.

Oh the unease
        My heart is green: to be
A vessel filled with the envy of a sea without
       A land to conquer
My words are dry; as of a tongue itchy and ****
      My excessive indulgence of an activity of lonely
Before the groin pain I had  to fasten my *****
      I am the poem—of the words unsung: that of which
The lyrics come from my God above, and strong

But I’m so weak
      To please her of a valuable love
She’s young as of having heart in her large *******
I am old—to be a man carrying his pride
     She’s warm inside; as under a blanket of a cold night
A warmest embrace of a kiss so personal to face
     She was chased by her beauty; feeling unnatural to this world
An angel now disgraced
      Or a ghost haunting tears each time she appears

It’s clear to me now
     That a love sweet as ecstasy dreamt on my pillow
Is as it seems—only a dream!
               Therefore: is anything in my life as so real?

Peeping through blinds, double tap what I like,
—but less active in being interactive
A lot of people are so attractive,
—but funny how I'd say that after they're shaking their *****
Its still for the masses; holding a hunger so massive
as those you tend to like, put you on a list of
their passes

DM sliding into slippery situations,
hoping to get a response from a like on my comments
Still that’s not what I’m about,
—but as I’m feeding my eyes, scrolling on feeds
Not every picture is as reel,
—but unlike a tear on my skin, every unappealing
factor I feel is so real
It's just a thrill, I hate to have at times, and appearing
a thirsty guy

So maybe I'll just leave a nice comment about
the beauty of life, even it doesn't get a reply
And the response to recent posts is staring at the background
with a set of emoji eyes

Lyrics without thought, in this mind quick
to thwart what is an innocent thought

And to reminisce every mistake and fault
ostentatiously, by means to flaunt

There's that familiar sinner in my heart
for the dear me—a red poetic of the hart

I'm so quick in my faith to quickly doubt
despite the flaming desires I have of so much
will to display; but the fears are quick to dout

As the longing to be close to a cost
that of which my purpose is enough the amount
To mount in the fixed place of this mysterious world
lest must I spin my head countless times, and be whirled

As liken to a devilish smile; cheery of guilty cares
must I be trained to despise my lies
And be washed of immortality by a birthed virtues
****** bathed with necessary lyes

I thank Christ for such a sacrifice of an enemy
hoping joyously that he dies
His risen story has imparted a new colour to my
life; a permanent impact as it comes to dyes

As two words can sound and look the same—
steadfast is the love of God to allow me to be
saved by grace. As I often gaze at the words of
how His love remains the same

Unlike the lyrics in my head,
so quick to change

Stardust in your eyes, fairy tale inspiration
of the princess I can see
I'm just sad; a poetic anomaly, and the social
deviate from being any standard of someone to love
But I gave you my heart—to concede the respect of your
royal family ties to love a moderately *******

We could find the keys to lock our love in wedlock
beneath the solid surface of desires nightly
imaginations of the best positions to get that perfect
bedrock

You're waking up in the long creases of short socks
as it's human nature to want to increase
An increase in the funds to afford the fun
of a light-hearted pleasure under the lights of stars
And I could count them all, but they'd seem less
than my scars

Still its astronomical of all the particles of earth
that I'm always struck by your eyes stardust

The fantasies of love; I fancy myself
a glove— holding onto old befores, and
wearing out the test of time

A girl I would proudly call mine
Bribe my way into making a memory my bride; two
seductions of the tied ties, sleeping together at the odds night
And to wake up with a reasonable excuse to be tired

But I've tried to be like a peck of flightless birds—
no reason to fly south like the rest. As I encouraged
her to rest under my wing, upon my smothered talk in
her *******

Two crushing walls on my face in between thighs,
and her ****** being a tall tower close to rise
But I despise the extra seconds it takes to build up
her high. And why like vampires ****, is because
they don't use much of their tongue

But by the batting of her eyes, she is close to come,
to a point of returning a tip of this favourable fun

Under a midnight sun; with the sounds of a substantial anthem. To those standing out, but not all can stand them—or understand them to easily brand them. It’s like a problem not to sneeze into DMs, and seeming allergic to women in the real. I have a couple mentions appearing up on reels.

Under a midnight sun; where it’s a mix of lightness and fun. Children’s tyre swings, and wearing an attire that never changes in its satire. As we all walk a thin wire of what it takes to inspire. So domesticated in a dogma, of where the bark is the only reference to a bite. Drinking the pleasures of flesh out of spite—all the thirsty people sip sprite, and come out tonight.

Under a midnight sun; ****** by a pistol of holders using that ***** gun. Let’s all have a blast in the past, to aim at old prospects hoping that they’d last. Smoking propane for a quick gas; passing comments behind people’s backs to seem like an ***. And woes to those who think of how to smash and pass.

Under a midnight sun; at a time where I need to see in the light His love. To share it with those that seem so easy to un-love. To treat as such, but I must treat them as being more than enough. To see their story through the scars, of they value being above the stars. We’ve all come from afar!

Under a midnight sun; as a song of the dawn. Sing as loudly throughout the moments dark. Sing as proudly as what lives in you is the Son.

It's this longing—of longing to see
you, over the longest weekend
I hoped long enough to see you in person
to give you the longest hug

But we're long to find that beautiful moment
and our love for one another

The sand dances ashes in the ambers
of their world, as you place deeply in the
ocean only by a toe

Towing the line of all your ancestors before
the land is rich of love, but it's spirit
quite so poor

Your eyes where like an open door—
swinging in your presence coming back and forth
For who are they to say: you don't matter in this world?

|a raised prophet but without a million, a steel heart
easy for the stealing|

|a t-shirt stain of a tattooed wrinkled affair, a preferred
only of what his Mistress wears|

|and a sin of flesh, as that of both seem not to care
a joyous celebration of knowing its an affair|

I told them I was tired of being local, and they took me as a joker
But the punchline of that is I'm the only one with focus
You try to vouch for peers, but some people turn into vultures
I meant to say voucher, that you receipt after a purchase
As some people purchase purpose; ******* in the end coitus
Still it was a moment you had enjoyed that introitus

Some do feel small inside; their inferior interiors
Not so big as it appears. Just masking hopes with years of fears
Spill a bottle of fine wine on me, and my lesser many me's
Fine dine around a table of my Lord and my enemies
Spit fire of the scolded tongue, but dire in response of having fun
Over the moon joy with a heated anger under the sun
Not all reach a ****** of their fun—still waiting for it to come

In the third person of the third stanza line
They didn't know me as a first person describing I
I'm that guy routing for himself in the ways to walk by
But the GPS was off to the location, and I have no WiFi

In the cause of this morning rhyme, it seemed fun to write
Mixing a wordplay in every line—I've got a childish mind
That child inside, wants to live freely but how in this adult life
Where being yourself is a crime; so you're a person of omission
As they won't see you for as you are, if you don't follow they vision
I guess I'm supposed to be chasing women, and calling them *******
Lined out naked perfectly on some exotic beaches
Placed on the scales of fame, I'm must be swimming with the fishes

The only time they'd say I left my communicative ways of being local
And a yes to having their focus; get rich and buy yourself a lotus
Smoke some flowers, while deflowering flower's with a magnum opus
As that's the art of the world's composer, I try to keep my composure
Breathes in I'm just most certainly tired of being so local
Perhaps I'll die in the crowd to be considered folklore
But I remain local

In the whispers of dreams
behind the cracks of time—dipping feet
in a sea of tears
A cusp of fears in the year's transition
I have this constant thought of you;
painted in vision

As like the kisses of young
wrestling tongues for an excuse to say we're not
in love. But are we not?
To no fault of our hearts; beats away from me—
darling it hurts being so apart
Frozen in my mind, as when my side is cold
I've never spoken such a feeling
before; as after I fell...I fell deeply in love with
YOU

And like you, IT was all so beautiful

Baptized in water, to wash afresh life
They flipped a quarter to pay a wreck their stripes
Too many strikes in the lines; I've done ill twice
To prove a lesson I never seem to learn
And by the next turn on an unfamiliar road
As where the water drips off the bottom sink—filled in dirt
I'll over think a wish that employers pay my worth

Baptized in fire, of all those miscreants I'd like to burn
Setting flame to burning evil intent of worldly incense
As the idea of a heaven paradise, is the only call to repent
To accept the mess you made—no sense or point to be afraid
Tip the finger despite the good intent, but a ******* in prayer
Nowadays sinners aren't ashamed, to gain success out of his name
Heathen, Atheist, Christian, Jew, Muslim, Buddhist; all the same
Living the most lively of lives, but we'll all die in the end

Baptized in Earth, saying goodbye to befores, family and friends
It's the spoil of soil that buries my dreams with a fresh rose
She smells of intentions, but I cannot smell good with a ****** nose
Ironically all things are red, that of which we've read
To share with the young, or not really care—we all die in the end
Caught in this life's trap of the pleasure's unfair; a bear in a snare
To rob you bare, with tears and a ripped bandage that you tear
The ones you love aren't always there—in moment's phone call away
Ring, ring, beep, beep, sing, sing, sip, sip; sorry I'm drinking today
You're just throwing those hopes in the air, feeling down by gravity

Baptized in winds, swinging carelessly in hopeful imaginings
That you're the one to be the golden egg of your family
An idea I had once till it cracked, so I sit back relax and laugh
Mask my pains with a grin and jokingly demeanor to always pass
Speaking smooth joy out of a tongue of jazz, and jazz hands
Fingers splayed to play in quotation marks of having a good day
And the line phrase of always saying, "yeah I'm definitely okay"

All in these elements—restless, pretend excellence, dreadfulness
In the endlessness of subtle pettiness, of my helplessness
As of my gentleness elegance, in being my life as the evidence
I've been baptized fully by the full of all these elements

Lucifer Morningstar,
still twas he kicked out of heaven—a falling star
As did his eyes hunger for power,
upon wanting to wear God's crown; seated on his throne
he hoped to have sat while the creation of the world
It came to the fall, tumbling the mountain of His highness
to be like or greater than God—oh the defiance!

As fire burning in his eyes, it now burns to surround,
surrounding his realm of a flames life
And in his strife; he rubs his in the sparks of rubbing
his likeness ways, by a whisper in the ear
A vehicle of fear, driving it into your skin
temptations of the flesh—a temp tempt in critical moments
"Don't worry about it, you're just doing you," listen to
how he pulls away your focus.

Hell would never freeze; despite the coldest hearts
present in it's accompanying. "Come to me," says the
call of sin into it's pleasurable company
Immeasurable, are the sins we commit in a day,
as even in an innocent prayer—whispers of previous ill doing
comes to play. Satan's favourite game!

His hand isn't red; but grey as smoke swallowing the
world, adding ashes to your worth
Solely to count a price to offer up for your soul,
And if the shoe fits, it comes with staining on the sole.

My prayer is to the Lord—that we as his children
don't meet up to the fall. Its one hell of a trip
To the bottomless pit of sharp darkness, that cuts your lip
Despite of the world wanting you to feel like filth
don't fall into its guilt—guilt trip.

Don't fall, don't fall, don't fall, don't fall, don't fall,
fall, fall, fall, fall...
You will instead rise in the assurance of the Lord.

The egotistic, unrealistic quotes of thinking about bars,
With the obvious prison of your caged mind.
It’s a force enforcing me to rhyme at every line
So it makes every write a question of, what rhymes are left,
And which rhyme of the bunch seems right to align
It gets so out of hand; out of control, to seem like a lyrical man
But lyrically— I don’t follow a plan, or a rhyme scheme
As random as a Tuesday dream. We don’t get to choose what we see
No scripted story, to detail life’s most critical scenes
No make believe, of the way we live. As in the ways to stay alive,
Is to survive in life’s performance; that’s always live
I’m cursed to rhyme

Growing kids, calling each other “bra”
A mark of the memory on the back. Our favourite line in strap
Of really how we loved to rap(talk)
As keen as a king, to ***** people off royally
A bald man could say it boldly in bold—of all the lies he sold
But I doubt he’d have a heir; and that’s not so fair
But of the lies he sold; comes it’s fare
And that’s just a small example of the chaos inside
Inside my mind; a few seconds of exercise to stand the test of time
I’m cursed to rhyme

Hey there Mr Rhythm; I’ll introduce you to Miss Flow
Marrying the two, but don’t diss their force
As to reach the terms of getting them to divorce
One is a gulf of words; finding the best stroke in her golf course
For I know enough words…no never mind
There has to be a better rhyme to find, as I’m cursed to rhyme

The fourth stanza—a search for an answer
As only the few of my hand had of some. I’m quite handsome
The sensitive guy, who loves to write, and all and all
Always cursed to rhyme

***** girls, with tight short skirts,
sand in the eyes—the colour of dirt; employed
by the moon, and doing the night work.
Quivering in the cold, like skeletons out of their
closet—to act as if you don't know their prices.
But it's quite obvious!

The alleyways smell of ****; the club scene of
turning a blind eye to your number of drinks.
Charismatic ill gentleman, with their casual winks;
its the end of the week. As the troublemakers parading
the street.

The performance of the local band, guitar, drums,
keyboard, bass, and of course a mic at hand.
A breathalyzer for an asthma attack, to break the pressure
in awkward conversations with the rude jokes to crack.
Lap dances in the centre room; a long key looking for the
right lock. The goal of every man to score by their crotch.
Lest he has the *****!

Perfumed necks, and high cleavage vests, to show off
some perky *******. Tightly tuned hair—linear
of a piece of linen wrapped in good and neat care.
There's barely enough chairs; so sip a little while
looking around for a seat. And don't be too shy to move
your feet. But watch your step, least not to bump into a stranger,
and disturbing the chaotic night's peace.

Taste a little bit of love; in their cup under the
lasting lust of every fallen star. Take some company
back home, stuffed in a six sitter car.
As we watched a day end—watching another rise by
the time of that great Morningstar. To describe a night
they hope never ends. So by the next week, we'll be doing
it all again.

At sake; we are lost and distant from home
In after the smoke, the rising ash of turmoil
Who really wins on both sides of the war
Only the dead live to see victory
Victim to bloodshed—they no longer see it's misery
But leave their loved ones in misery

To watchmen; on luxurious high wall
Must they see of evils, but ignore them all
Who really wins on both sides of the war
A ruler to deem an enemy
But as of their people—forced to call neighbour enemy

There's a cloud—dark, gloomy tower in
the very distance. With echoes of heavy thunder,
and the growing flashes of lightning.
A cough to shake the heavens; as in the smell of
dew—it's due a season of the washing away of old.
Overflow; I speak this overflow. As in after the Storm,
cones the smell of growth. To wait patiently
on the Lord—as he is revealed behind, and of been
working through the storm.

How funny is life, when I try to help all people,
but get accused of being called too nice. Acting a little mean,
then they say I don't care about human life.
I guess I'm supposed to be a bitter sweet spice?

I'm so useless, for people to use less for their appeals,
and often priceless; at a price less of being any real.
Life is just a biscuit, but unfortunately not everyone
has the cream. But here's a dream, lurking in a nightmare,
an omen in the eyes of the ungodly—the identity of a nobody,
and the somebody only with the right amount of money.

They tell me I'll be great; I only need to be a little patient,
I must of misheard them, I guess the meant "paid less."
I've gained a lot of lessons, to lessen my chances of not gaining
a few blessings. But explain to me why the teachings are so depressing?
A serpent in the sheets, are the scales of lovers nowadays; you pay for recognition, and ironically the obliviousness are getting paid. We all know that devils name, but plead cases as if hell is going to change.

Success is such a mountain, and failure an easy path.
Dreams are like a fountain, but the taste of reality gives it a laugh. You'll always be your past, searching for a future. And the present
in itself, is trying to avoid being the biggest loser.
Trying to be hopeful, in a life being  promiscuous—it's all
just a *** full.

You try to live for the moment; it's momentarily
as a distant picture losing focus. Life is an untitled moment.

As to be; a righteous figure, but to always
be burned by the world? Or the vilest breed,
in successful pits, but burning in Hell?
I guess we're all going to burn in each side of choice
in the end. You live by the sword, to die with
it—you live with the shield, to only defend.
You are the sly player, or played by the game.
They either call great of your name, or scold you in a
greatly shame. You are the writing on the writing of
the wall, or the wall to fall of rite.
You are the ruler of the dark, or the blind display
ornament sitting in a light.
You are the anthology of misery after success, or an
unabridgement of joy before loss. The mistreated employee,
or heartless boss. —Life is unfair—good intentions are rare.
And as to be; a righteous figure, but to always be burned
by the world? Or the vilest breed, in successful pits, but
burning in Hell? We all burn!

When I say I’m in love;
it feels easy to say, but much harder to do, much harder to
prove—to keep it entertained, in maintaining my youth.
And to walk all over somebody’s heart; you fit the world’s shoes.
So forgive me to say;
it’s not always as easy for me to say that I love you.

These are quotes about love.

Love is a drug—I guess as the addicts who waste their funds.
Funny how the nose will run, chasing a cold love. To cuff your
heart in the glove of love. Sometimes we’re not left breathless after
making out—it’s in the terms of us breaking up.

These are quotes about love.

Love is dumb; as the phrase, “two fools in love”.
But what of those intellect—to invest time into their love.
Never mind, I won’t speak up. I don’t have the heart to speak up.
I’m really not in love.

These are quotes about love.

Love is lust; for words in factor of those who want love
after trying their luck. You look to a love of what’s to come—
the question of, “will their make me ***”.
To few of those who want to make love, but instead just want
to fake love.  Enjoying the moment of a rush.

These are quotes about love.

Love is sorrow; phrases of, “I’ll make it up to you by tomorrow”.
But does it follow. To swallow his pride—I doubt it takes like chowder. You fix your face with powder, but you address
the situation with a new dress. As if you being sweet could
turn a person’s sour.

These are quotes about love.

Love is King; as it rules your heart—knowing every King needs
a Queen. As every hand has a mouth to feed. So do you make
food for thought, or the sweet nothings of make believe?

These are quotes about love.

Love is gem; precious if true, if you don’t make it pretend.
You’d love one, but unfortunately would of kissed ten.
You could marry a friend, or a stranger instead. In the end,
do you keep your love, or quickly spend?

These are quotes about love.

Love is eye; we all see what we like.
Some value curves, others the shape of beauty inside.
Some fall for the heart, others are attracted by the mind.
A few in the sights of vile—as toxic relationships in denial.

These are quotes about love.

Love is wrath; the wrath of a heartbroken woman,
burning everything in her path. You had your chance.
As you’ve loved first, you will love last.

These are the nine quotes about love.

Called by the stars,
seven heavens knowing my name
Amongst the trumpets, and the angels praise
under a name of Grace. I am saved—unafraid,
paved lead by the golden streets of paradise
My body is no longer alive; just a husk bound
by the rules of earth. My spirit arise!

Heaven is warm, the skies bright
I lost my butterfly wings, caught plenty in
the net of time. These are the eagle wings I have now,
to rise to the presence of my Lord; lost in stars!

My family is pretty tragic, and I don't fare well in any still
Just chasing a piece of magic for that taste of thrill
The amount of times I've done wrong, plays lyrics in
my head like a boring song

We grew impressed by curves saved in secret
vaults of our phone—it's a wonder how I can talk to girls
But it doesn't mean I was good at it before
A war inside of my eyes, I've been through a couple tours
With no resort to recreation, I'll resort to being bored
Life can feel a bourd, jesting kisses getting me hard like a board

Packing the load of weighing burdens
in the haul of dreams searching for a purpose
Penniless thoughts we grew up snatching from life's purses
And the only fear a teen had, was dying a ******

You could blame us being thirsty
always wanting to drown ourselves in success
Dancing swiftness in the crowd, but secretly depressed
I tell you my life before was such a mess
But you could never tease me enough to have that be the only
thing I confess

Thankfully the brokenness of my heart could be conditioned
to bring forth a new piece of a work of art
After every scar, the C of every cut becomes the T of time
for all my scars to become stars

My life is now the scars into stars!

Cover upon the covering,
under the canopy of the Lord, let my lips
speak words honouring.
Faithful and true, and his mass—I am secure.

I've tasted a love so pure—honey dripping,
and anointed in oil. My centre is Jesus, in every
facing turmoil.

There isn't a battle I'll face alone.
No weapon of the enemy shall come to pass,
even the daggers formed to persecute me of my past.

I trust the all of my Lord; in every word,
the motion of destiny written by his hand.
Despite the broken promises of man, not everything
I see is said to last. But the eternal of my God isn't set in a
time of fragile glass.

And even at my brokenness, he will work in me;
as He has strengthen me over thoughts of worthlessness.

I thank the working of the Lord!

A voice levy—to impose a fee on speaking freely.
My breath is so heavy, as my bones take on another
burden. Searching in the confines of a world not letting
me be.

A Christian that has been castrated; as you'd assume
I never had the testies to speak my father's truths.
The world has test me plenty times as a youth, before
my ***** even dropped. This part may penetrate some
sensitive hearts, so let me stop.

Perhaps you'd call me being too religious.
My religion isn't based on a bound by monastic vows.
Tis of relationship I have with my God. Filled with His
holy spirit, after being saved by His son's loving grace.
But alas you'd still call me being too religious either way.

But that's okay—I'll turn the other cheek.
Do it as many times as like in rinse and repeat. I can follow
those lessons of the Bible, but please don't hit me with,
"well aren't you a Christian," when I'm at my lowest.
I'm a Christian, but human too. I'm also going through it too.
Do I still seem being too religious to you?

Perhaps I'm being too religious to speak any real truth.
You'd call me selfish, if I said I don't speak truth for
me or you. I speak truth for my creator, but saying that
would create tension. When I speak of repentance to a sinner,
a part of me expects aggression. But I see that you're empty,
and hope to lead you into being filled by the Lord. But I'd seem
to full of myself, and a fool to try and save a sinner. At fault for
being a Christian, as you'd love to say, being too religious.

I guess I'll always be too religious.