Do you feel as young as you do— By the gazelle or doe,
passion dripping off lip's honey dew,
Behold all winters past— Flowers singing voices
of turtledoves, ripen the joys of my heart;

Arise to me, but come away— Sweet voice and a
lovely face, as I taste your name.
A banner over me, is your love, stirred up by desire,
I'd do any all for my— Oh beloved.

Sorry on the terms of coming
to terms of long awaited words
We're only the sweet nothings
desirable thoughts, but not
so thoughtful in person—per se
we do this everyday, everyday is the
same decor with different shade

Such a shame; beautiful in my eyes
but a beauty only set of afar sights
Sightseeing on what could be,
still this is the fault of an awkward me
hopeless romantic, passive; inactive love
closed heart to all but open chances to love

Would of been fun to live as just boring people
entertaining ourselves on less than serious jokes
—you don't like spoken word, but you'd maybe
listen to my cheeky comments in a spoken word
of thoughts

Being a boring cliché
words of saying I love you more than yesterday
the answer to my prayers; anyways these
feelings hunt me down as it's prey
What more can I say...actually what haven't
I said if we're still stuck as attracting friends
Face to face our magnetic force pushes us away,
and the turn of the other, pulls the other walking
the other way. It's so magnetic...oh God, that's so
cliché

We're two bored people, too bored
to board the relationship status
Lovers at first sight—old fashioned
given a little chance to act on the obvious
thoughts, could mean we'd have a little action

      ...but now I'm just so bored of these thoughts

To expect trials and storms along my Christian
walk is a given. And under these storms; let me
find refuge under the house of my Lord.
My shelter, refuge, and haven; as where the
Spirit of the Lord is—ikhaya lami.

Found love in a man’s clothes; the one who had
Love in his heart before that love stick in his pants

Man-made; a man made from complex emotions,
He’s just an emoji showing one shade of feeling
With a different one behind him

So few, do rarely wear their heart on their sleeve –
He does so well to cover up himself

                                              Naked men are so few!

I sat there waiting for myself;
patiently, so anxiously- my thoughts between beauty,
love, ambiguity; a tragedy and all manners of happenings.
While we were both picturing the inkling of make-up
***- but we lacked the foundation of making love.

Holding onto the fear of more arguments
afterwards, so tightly like a hug. I was choked
out for most of my words, fitting over the hand
of fabrications, like a perfectly fitting glove.

It all became a tacit question
between the both of us: “this time, will we make
an effort at making love, or is it another downwards
spiral of us just being so down to ****?”

I'm up, but don't feel awake,
world has me broke,
but I won't let it break.

At times I don't live my worth,
but I'll never forget my place
Stick to my guns,
and aim my ideas straight.

I'm guided by faith,
hopes of it working out in the end
For this life to be alive,
have to stop pretending to be dead.

A simple quest. Journey of life till the very end.

Green eyes
looks of the envious
On the greener side, of tired
eyes—the young and the restless
To be labelled careless for caring
less of the attention we have for love
Sorry I wasn't taught enough about love
on how to love enough, I wasn't loved enough
                    but enough of the subject on love
                          my eyes are too envious upon
                                        seeing others in love

I handle my liquor as well — as a well striving to keep afloat.
In the shadows the nights stretch long, and I come across a girl
with a captivating smile; her body, however, bore the marks of
countless encounters, of each man who sunk in her, a much deeper
borehole. Yet, she adorns herself with a cross, perhaps a silent
testament for both parties to start off by saying their own grace.

I’m seemingly fighting inner demons; as a silent war etched upon
my face — all the while chasing after every idea to extend this
human race. Yet, it is a cruel irony that the most profound revelations
often emerge only after, we have drowned ourselves in the depths
of unspoken answers in our cups.

And so, the clash of poor ideas and the taste of liquor lingers on;
as the drinks act as an unequal guide, to the morning — where in
the aftermath, the bitter collision of misguided notions and the
haunting essence of spirits endures.

Some puns by the dozen
to crack you up today.
It was exactly yesterday,
that I ended up writing this
while exaggerating.
While it was an excellent feeling,
I really came out of my shell.

My advice to you,
always look at life the sunny side up.
Because life tries to scramble your brain,
just don't act like a hard boiled egg.
And after all these egg puns,
I might need to apologise to all the
chickens for them.

If I'm drowning in denial,
Lord please help me, I can't swim.
If I fall asleep, letting all go dark,
please don't let my dreams go dim.

Let my height of awareness,
be high enough, far above.
Till I'm breathless,
maybe not, perhaps sort of.
The top always seems so far,
if so, let my successes be endless.  

On my knees,
hanging my head.
Eyes shut to be blind,
I ask of all this, in your mighty name,

Amen.

Wisp whisperings, tedious tensions,
all we face at a favour of an unfair life.
Summarised summonings, handful happenings,
to do all that is—not out of a place of strife.

Anxious agony, despairing delusions,
pains I can't always paint out in words.
Powerless poverty, penniless pockets,
let not status of the world; dictate self worth.

Joyful joinings, delightful decisions,
happiness isn't a given—still can't be lived without.
Humorous humans, creative creations,
all with a smile; moments are short. Make them count.

For into the night, the day will always rise—a dawn out
of the longest dusk. Like an Eve to it's Adam; the beauty
of their first fruits—seeds are to grow up touching the sky.
Do not threat dear child; the Heavens remain at the
highest,—above the hells of life.

It's time to RISE!

A whisper in between lips-
To increase as we kiss;
as I do miss the times,
Love; easy to find like words on lips,
But the sounds of love to I, all amiss.

Overbearing–
the past feels heavy on my heart;
burdened on the many regrets of life,
A heavy heart is of what weight you
choose to carry;

Carry your worth–but not carried away
in bright fame lights of successes,
Stuck for a moment; but we must soon
carry on...

Carry on, carry on, carry on;
carry that strength with a patient heart,
Carry on, carry on, carry on;
Soon will we make it to a peaceful end.

The shape of your love’s image
Makes one imagine,

The many brushstrokes –

Painting out such a masterpiece
like you, Love.

I was the pencil that etched the silhouette of your love –
a shadow standing as a sentinel as you strode ahead.
I was your pen, inscribing these lines with the ink
of my tears – I tore away the initial pages of the first
love letters I crafted for you.

Love is blind… I don’t see much of you in either
of my thoughts or dreams.

How must I refer to you now, when all the references
on how to love were born from the moments we shared –
all the descriptions I experienced when it was still
me and you?

I only seem to see you now as just a silhouette.

I remember long texts, and shy long
calls at night; over the limited Wi-Fi.
The rosy cheeks, stomach knots, and awkward
laughs when I was referred to as, "my guy."

"My mans, baby, and the occasional cutie,"
usually after I say something sweet. And making
those gestures at tasting those lips.

The angry rants, unplanned arguments,
unnecessary jabs, soon after the honeymoon
season is gone. The long cries, silent treatments,
and cold shoulders. The missing each other afterwards,
and making dues in maturity, for it grow much older.

Saving up for those dates, cringing afterwards
because of my table manner mistakes.
Coffee for lunch, couple pictures for dinner,
and posting statuses that people can't get enough of.
And the few who got sick of us being love sick,
posting another picture for the week.

The first feeling of love;
oh what a rush. From awkward friends,
into a crush. Head nod greetings, into longer
hugs. How could I forget that feeling of the first
time being in love?

My first feeling of love...

I rest in self-misery, as the pride of a mirror - to only see
It as I alone, suffering through these trials. My successes are
Mere private congratulations; pats on the back, aspirations relying
On the weight of the estimation theory. As are my days: random
Components, wholly in the degree of alteration

Days alternate between good or bad; often the latter- a newer
Taste of bitterness, to an unreasonable resentment; a sad struggle
Against the Diarrhoea of Complaints- for yes indeed, life can be
So full of ****, and almost in that same mirror, you sadly see
The very crap you’re forced to be seated in,- daily

As a man is the master in his own fantasies; to have dreams
In which they live as gods- their truths all taking a deformed shape
The shape of life being abstract; as what hurt you today, becomes
The foundation to build tomorrow’s strength. So don’t give into
What pain rests on your plate- feeding into its lies; as where there is
One’s fate, lies the fuel of faith. So ask yourself; where on that tank’s
Needle, does your faith tend to want to sit on

Who am I to be the representation of expression to the unexpressed,
a liquefied colourful presentation filling the outlines of all the depressed.  

Manifested to be what the world would label an outcast.
A fulfilment of that empty void of a heart, commonly known for not being built to last.
A trumpet blaring the truths of what self indulgence could bring many hurts to a soul,
the voice of the voiceless, speaking out for us all.

Being trampled down upon by the world's footprints of self doubt,
telling what I can't and fail to do, while I'm trying to figure all these things out.

And I would cast out my own two ears, just to hear empty silence when this world tries to speak.
A world so cold constantly trying to force me to reach my peak.
Surely now I would have learnt from my past mistakes and all my missteps,
surely no I could sense trouble five days away and be ready with all my preps.

But as I say again, I would be the voice to the depressed,
a loud voice to those gone silent, with no freedom to be expressed.

A tackle with the wind, a tackle with
these modern day kids. Good grief,
as I used to be; childish cares gone in the wind.

A mud crack on a leaf, to leave a
sound of mud cakes I'd make. Under the sun,
till dusk had set; using it's heat to bake.

A first kiss by a door, both parents a few
rooms away to get caught. Curiosity gained
from movie love scenes; tasting the worth.

A bicycle pedal, cycling carelessly. So freeing
to be allowed to ride up and down streets. But
we were young boys of trouble; disturbing the peace.

A stanza getting longer, words can't fit. And like
my mother buying oversize clothing. Barely fitting
in; whether in crowds or clothes in the surrounding.

A procrastinator, in doing first good. Lazy to decisions
of no self benefits. At a time only wanting a final gain
in rewards; you'd expect from growing a little penniless.

A grown boy now, a man faced in the mirror. A face of time
and the lessons experienced. Truly I've seen how much I've
grown; I've grown so much to shed a tear.

A story of growth as you read.

Ignite within me the feeling of love –
a bulb warming up in its own radiance; I need that idea
behind me falling in love – peace of mind, yet we still
kiss behind the chaos of what we always had –
                                                a long time crush.

Don’t you dare crush my heart – swear to me, cross your
heart and hope not to die, or would you choose to double
cross me, transforming that sacred mark into a bitter X…

I suppose for me, this would be the third strike.

                                   ***

You are...
the authority that spoke all into creation,
the same power in my mouth to speak miracles into life,
a voice to the broken silence like a roaring lion;
the Lion of Judah in our hearts.

You are...
the thoughts to inspire me again, when enemies speak worry,
not like the promises of man, who will fail me in time,
your promises are eternal; for you’re not bound by the
limits of space and time.

You are...
the overseer of me when I don’t see myself,
the light of my heart in the dark backgrounds of daily life,
the softest whisper in the world’s chaotic winds,
the spoils of sufficient needs in my life and others,
the loving Father, Redeemer, and Holy spirit I have in trinity,
that has done so much for me.

Words aren’t enough to express all that you are to me.

And if I became a rapper, I probably wouldn't rap long (True)
Being known for writing out another sad song
As they say, 'choose your poison—my poison is life
'Choose your weapon—my pen is a ****** knife
Flavour your values, my character is a little bit of spice
A mix of overly nice, I tried to grow some ice
But the soft waters remain still warm from my eyes
Working harder when I cry, those waterworks are real
Tried to help people out of some good sense of will
But all the investments in people hasn't paid me still
(Still broke)

We built our reality on some broken dreams
Thought we would be married around twenty three
I know I've disappointed you kid, promising to achieve our dreams
Now I'd hate for myself to look for achievements inside of me
We don't know what it feels like to be truly happy
And I know our biggest fear is to disappoint the entire family (Woah)

We're not done with the disappointing jobs
We got a couple more years of time to sob
They don't think you're much of a man
And being a writer doesn't fit well with their logical plan
You still **** at being a good man of his romance
You never even got the chance to own that collection of Vans
The suicidal thoughts are still lurking in your mind
And you've dreamt up so many ways of how to die
At the funerals still refusing to show emotion and cry
You still make up ninety percent of all your smiles (Sigh)
As we're currently still going through those constant trials
Hey younger me, welcome to hell of this adult life

We built our reality on some broken dreams
Thought we would be married around twenty three
I know I've disappointed you kid, promising to achieve our dreams
Now I'd hate for myself to look for achievements inside of me
We don't know what it feels like to be truly happy
And I know our biggest fear is to disappoint the entire family (Woah)

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

120 miles away; at the speed of love close to decay.
And the sinner in, asks if you’re giving up that cake today.
I’m stuck in a parade, matching bands matching your
movements in those shoes. Revelry of gossip in front of friends
—excusing ourselves on calling it important news.

We’re no good, no good for each other.
But if we meet in Heaven, I might remind you how I was
once your lover.

The very first to add worth in your first kiss. To rest my
head besides your cheek. And finding it rude to call
you my chick, or to call you my b…

Still hard for me to say even in the things that past.
You could hate me more for knowing things wouldn’t last.
Staring at the half empty glass—filling ourselves on cheap laughs.
Cheap thrills, expensive meals on an empty pocket of a kid.

I was weird, I had a piece of a beard to appear grown.
The king of your heart, knowing Lucifer fell for trying to sit
on that wasn’t his throne. The crown turned into thorns.
I’ve been torn by unsaid words.

The unsaid truth, is I still love you now. But I’m foolishly
in love with a love long gone. 120 miles, so far away.
A distance so long.

and so began my mind diving; being
too sea deep – conscious thoughts
trying to swim underneath them; to see deep

and at its surface I had found…

us all being so beautiful – art in reflection
but we gaze at the bigger picture with ugly eyes,
an ugly gaze, with an ugly frame of mind

a tragic drowning picture, I could not see!

Emotions crease onto another,
wrinkles in the heart—broken
But still in place; afterward I was stood
up by the door of your heart's place—at first
Enthusiastic; red cheeks of a child blushing
over cute callings. A blushing bride as it were;
under the wedding vale with teary eyes.

I loved you still...

Perfectly imperfect, your flaws are what
drove me crazy. For no definition was in them,
But they'd define a picture of your strength.
Every kiss leaving wet yearning lips, shaking
and scarred by our out of breaths.

I loved you plenty...

As with the little I could give; money, fame,
fortunes, & recognition from the public.
Only am I recognised by demoiselles, next to you.
For when we see what we could of had,
we'd seek it more than it gave us first attention.

I loved you joyously...

Beatitude; those warm fuzzies of being next
to you—thinking about you, longing for you,
waiting for you, crying for you, & praying for you.

I loved you darling...as still as the time
I must wait, plenty more than I can express.
Joyously in all my endeavours.

I could never stop myself, falling in love
with you again, again, & again.

I've fallen in love again.

I'm a lonely leaf;
          falling away in
                the  
                      Winds.

A cement of ideas;
    paved in
                  pain
On the Avenue of
               Destiny's street.


Hanging onto life;
          threading needles
                  In my back

Puppet strings,
   tied to things-
                 That I lack.
                
            Only for tonight;
      I'll love myself

But by tomorrow;
                Wish I could be  
         anyone else.

                  Bring your love;
     trade you my pain

Bring your scars;
                I could give you
      an escape
                        
                            Bring your thoughts;
     and leave  
            your brain.

Close your eyes;         To see what's
                      really inside
Put an X;            On two of my I's
                     XII;

Lose your air-
to remember how it;
               feels to be alive.  
  
                      But you'll still
             survive;
                         Even with
death on  
                 your mind
                        
                      Stay strong;
                           stay alive.

Nowadays;

knowledge is just the know,
walking to the ledge,
close to the edge.
And if you go on to follow,
a fool's knowledge;
you'd soon be dead...

I don't make time for myself; making time for you,
be dead inside, when I die for you. Die for two, lie for you;
in the bed of death without the truth. The rain in the gutter,
pouring myself; but through a tight funnel. The end of a dark journey, at the other side of that tunnel. We don't believe enough; that we love each other.

I don't mean to be rude; but seem so crude. In the dullness of
yesterday's grey mood. It reigns on me, from above the rule of
thoughts; as ***** as the mud. Thinking of you; guilty of the pleasures. Holding my breath when we kiss, to fill my chest with pressure. Love isn't perfect, but with the lessons we get a little better.

So I had to write this letter...

The words in cursive; complimenting all your curves. The edges of the sword, piercing my heart. Your tongue is always so sharp. I seen a couple clouds shaped like hearts; pierced by the lightening at night. Which gave me a fright, of all the possibilities that might.

I stink of doubt, under the half bottle of cologne to impress your clout. The trends of love; on insta screens, telling me how to love. But why am I spilling my guts? Cause those deep feelings I have, just leaves me with enormous cuts.

Kumbaya; in the sarcastic unity we portray. Round the burning camp fire of love; hoping it burns into the day. The passion of *** after arguments. Leaving too many things in the air, just to face turbulence.

But let me stop right now, before I bleed out my pen. But what if there's more for me to write even after then? I hate that we failed as lovers, but are somehow drifting away as friends.

****! I did it again...

The life of a party that never ends,
rest your eyes far off from tomorrow.

Youth seem not keen to live on.

As for my youth, I rest childish antics,
placing them all into their bed.

Blow out the voices to a song.

The brown bottles are so heavy,
mostly to the worries of my eyes.

I've partied my heart too long.

Spending the little pay I had,
to buy my cares of their plenty.

And so ends the nights of fun.

Shall I go on to find myself,
just as a dream finds tomorrow?

As the time of partying is gone.

All of the good fortune did allow.
I've spent out all of my wealth.

                                        Soon the party ends

Cradle nights and rocking thoughts-
tears stained in star dust, rising breaths shot by
the rockets burning at your throat. You had a smoke
before you’ll come and go- who could have known
the worry pressed against your heart, after that hovering
press of your thumb to send that message on your phone.

“Hey could you pick me up, I didn’t sleep at home,”
you slept over at the place you shouldn’t have- you
usually sleep alone; but how he kept an open mind and
open conversation; being the best intention and attention
someone could give you to keep you close.

It felt so good to be heard, for someone to put you
on top while he slept on the floor- but you grow jaded,
knowing that its going to be really awkward between you
both; spending the night with your best friend’s crush
The one you couldn’t tell her you had known long before;
having a bit of a fling before- but hoping no one would
actually know.

But as soon as she comes around to pick you up,
to take you back home- oh she’ll certainly know.

Masterpiece of a passion painted, a lady mistress of
her fairest dame; So gentle of heart, and a love
all to wish acquainted; In the trends of oldest fashion,

Of her bright eyes of angelic fire, gliding, whereupon
two stars are dancing; Man takes hand to a leading
guide; His soul and eyes stolen— As amazement was
what he found; For by God, you are His art piece created,

Yet so disturbing to my mind, as words to express have
me so defeated; Worthy it is, speaking of you, tastes like
treasure.

empty wrinkles in the sheets – secrets spilling from your lips;
speak of me in high regards, while digging for those words
“I love you,” that are so deep in my guts

but it takes guts to tell someone you love them, just as soon
as we’ve met – that reason that met my eyes, but is it really
meant for me – to see your real smile behind your mouth’s
many lies? we both desperately try to cut away our past,
though it's so hard, like fading your own hair the first time,
missing a few parts at the back

yet I could stare endless hours at your back – the depth of
your spine, in this empty place where you lie; in all awe of
you, I enjoyed my awe for the time. though time blushed
with me; each morning that I’m forced to leave your side,
we seem to grow even further apart

in place of our memories of last night, these empty sheets
have trapped a piece of both our hearts – but even in these
trap sheets, I still find it so hard to say, "I lov...

O'blossoming flower sleeping through the shadowless night, may I find peace in you to cheer me up,
My hurts cut me deeply, till my tears are no more, please Lord, fix me up.
I sleep a thousand years in just a moments, I see colours of bright amongst the darkness,
Those around me give up hope, so should I? Blossoming flower soften my heart from thicken hardness.
O'blossoming flower in fields of bright, come grow in me to feel my heart,
The walls of this world come down upon me, please help me restart.

In the  fields of red a sad man would only see shadows of blue and wonder why,
But I want to smile all through these pains, I truly try, look up to the Heavens and see this beautiful sky.
And I've fallen in love for a blossoming flower of my own in this crazy world,
Surely I love her so to speak her name everyday and tell her secrets untold.
Behold what I've let out, my troubles become spikes upon  the heels of my feet,
Please take them all out from beyond my control, can I taste joy in this world once more like a wonderous treat.


O'blossoming flower  you know I cry out to you, you know I'm surely lost,
Why I only come to you when troubles only arise is still unexplained, but to fix my troubles I'm willing to make the cost.
I can't promise to seek you Lord all times, but please Lord know that I try,
Please Lord I love you, a blossoming flower for eyes to draw tears to cry.


O'blossoming flower these are my thoughts and prayers I tell,
I beg for new mercies and more joy from you, this joy you give out not to sell.

Eyes that would word a painter' creation. All the beauty
upon the ends of Earth. Framed; hanging on invisible
wires of worlds.

He has glazed my eyes, hanging still in life' chaos.
Looking to all that was done, through a window view of insight.
His words made planets, stars, moon, and sun. So delight
deep of his reverence.
            
Of a cunning hand of artistic art. Set apart to it's part.

pink blossoms – in the forest of thoughts; I seem
so lost. as a storyteller, I must have consumed a library,
every day is a memory of all that you’ve learned, and
the scriptures on your skin of the Word

where true prophecy reigns – the taste of one’s future
rains, watering faith’s garden. you beautiful tragedy,
making blissful mistakes – life hurts and stresses you
out with heavy thoughts of tomorrow, that you seem
too scared to even let down your hair; it's an anchor

yet in these pink blossoms, any piece of hope blossoms
like a blush on your face – when the slightest beauty
smiles back at your worried face… weary child,
go and pray.

Before I entertain;
let me enter the space where they all know my name.
While feeling like a million dollars, before my
hands ever have a touch of fame.
I might look the same,
but they’ll always say-

“you’ve changed.”

All the lights and glam,
can’t out shine the dreams of my eyes.
Growing up as I am;
growing apart from peers, and average guys.
Best knowing you’re different,
before it’s been said.
Knowing all your failures, only you can witness;
and playing out your entire life inside your head.

Tell me;

would you be true to you,
when they ask- “who are you?”
And still keep a smile when you do
what they said you couldn’t do?
They’ll all act surprised, claiming-

“we never knew”

You gave them all a hint;
but they never caught the clue.

I felt like a younger,
stuck with the worries of being old.
“You only live once,” I’ve often been told.
You have so many chances of success,
but only once in your life,
to achieve them when you choose to be bold.
Long and behold;
I’m still here in the present worrying about being too old.

As I sold out my happiness;
before ever going out on a few tours.
Grew out of being down to earth
before I eventually rose.
And I wouldn’t buy the entire world;
but keep it in my pocket, thinking to myself-


“the world is yours”

Even when they see the scars;
they’ll never feel the sores.
Even when the silence hurts,
don’t be shy to let them known your story’s verse.

Don’t lose yourself in the successes,
I’d rather lose myself in these words.

The pen flow without any peace,
or any signs to decrease,
Amongst the animals,
I’m a superior lyrical beast.
Food for thought in these words,
I gave plenty a feast.
But when you give so much to the world,
it’s always wanting to steal a piece.

The mouth that bites the hand that feeds it,
licking all you have, cleaning out the dishes,
as you’ll just bare witness.

Just live your life to the fullest,
no-one can do it for you.
Live your life as the truest,
you’ll never question what is true.

As truly the verse of your story,
only resides in you.

I once met a man made out of steel;- but he was too afraid
To disclose all the hearts he stole, instead pointing out
All the love he had bought, as one constantly waiting for
What’s in store. The wise con artist selling out dreams
Only to lonely fools, who buy into flightless ideas-
Such tall ideas, with the promise of giving them wings

And to those he came to meet;- his very eyes carved up
Their bodies, to offer as fresh sushi; a bloodlust fishman,
Holding a charm with such impeccable practice
He spoke love’s language, with words sharp as knives
Cutting all costs, to make any love feel exorbitantly priced;

Alas I present myself to you- the author of such dreams
I am a halibut; playacting to have tough flesh underneath,
Drowning in the endless submerging feeling, of love
Swimming an entire life; sinking deeper by a heart of steel,
Still, anything that must breathe, must certainly bleed.

As when I bought a taste of love, it indeed
Tasted like my very own blood!

Whirling vortex; -
I stalked a dream so smooth-tongued,
every whisper of it, had an attention to its
words- intentions to look so divine.

And for a fleeting choice of the moment,
I faintly enjoyed the lie.

To touch base, I've mixed with bass,
treble; or tremble at the highest volume,
audiotapes left in the closet, those love
confessions in secret; titled into a mixtape,
Or was it a mistake to place myself in the
music I tried to write?

The lyrics are just me ranting away,
in the thinking of finding a way.
I feel a little blue today; in a jazz of a saxophone,
ordering snacks on my phone. It feels too easy to
rhyme. To play with my words. CD discs,
I was scratched by love; in the ignorance of bliss.

Sad playlists saved in good question,
earphones stuck in my ears while I'm still asleep.
Good reason for me to seem so restless,
bluetooth speaker; hoping to successfully connect.
Still pairing to an unpaired match I could bet.

But music is always emotion, just in beat,
catchy hooks, melodies, and shuffling your feet.
To get you off your feet, get you to think, and as
my dad would say, "your favourite songs gets your *** lit"

I can't function without my music.

At the start of this, it already sounds racist
From statements about dating a white girl
Being considered white whale chasing

From jokes being made of being loud as a coloured,
And acting raw as a black; we'd pass the jokes carelessly
Without any care of offence, as we'd carelessly laugh

From jokely calling everyone the N word
In a country where it translates to give
Wouldn't the outer world love to give their own opinion,
And cancel us with no F's to give

From the stories from parents about the white man being rough,
But bringing so many things to us
To now taking their farms, and stating "this right is ours"
How is this the future, when history has repeated itself,
But in reversed roles; not much to say we've come so far

From the eyes of a child to see a poor white man as something strange; and a poor black man as a much closer relative,
Relatively speaking it's still the poverty of our eyes, seeing such things so poorly. And how's a poor man to look for loose change,
In a world that hasn't really changed?

But if I went sightseeing around the world,
blinded from stereotypes and world opinions
Perhaps to see everyone as a fellow sister and brother
Of the same father,—father time. The same mother,—earth
Could that instead give them a second to think in their hearts,
Not to be a racist first

                 ...or will this only be, a poem about racism?

By the attraction of scent; my nose has been called,
Falling into the sweetest embrace,
Called into it's descent.
  
Conspicuous; truly is the word making up her face,
And beauty; heavy as the anchor of emotions she brings,
All that's seen, is her bare honesty,
Open to my eyes, as all of her is exposed.
            
I picked her as with a touch bitter sweet,
Quickly cut by her thorns.

As I recently learnt, of all her very worth,
All truly rooted to ground,
And down to Earth.

Red, as the cherry blossom of blushing cheeks,
Green, as the valleys watered by Heaven's tears,
Brown, in the grounds as smooth as my skin,
My favourite flower, is a Rose.

I know it hurts to be alive
At times you think of suicide
But here's my encourage to encore your life

Be happy of the fact you pushed on to survive
And please mind the appearance,
But I do care of the mental state of your mind

You're battling things inside
Battered from showing it outside
As with a cheery hie; behind a smile is a lot to hide
I just want you to know—in appearances not seen,
I appreciate your life

Poems, sonnets, haikus, odes, songs, prose;
every one of them are trapped in a little black box—
a pen, the only key that unlocks my heart for everyone.

A box teeming with all my pains in it;
secrets or lies? There’s an eternity in that box- all my
verses are in it; some remain locked till the inevitable
death of another disregarded poet.

Oh, my little black box; filled with thoughts-
your love is less;- in an honest jest; laughing at most
of my secret ideas— ones far from their best, further less.
Writing something to forget as something less;
pieces I beget as children; I leave them so fatherless.

                                  Trapped in that little black box!

I:
The drunk says he can handle bars— but I just
handle handlebars, chasing thoughts downhill,
gripping acceleration on life’s crooked road,
her words tasted like lightning—a storm reigning
in my chest. If the truest lover’s tongue can write
the truth, truth still needs a page— so promise
me this time I won’t crash in the margin.

                        She:
         But darling, I gave you shape; I traced
                                 your edges in circles, crossed out the shadows
                                 of your past. You were a box caged in squares,
         I bent the lines, bisected all of your fears—
                                 in the middle, we met like intersecting skies.

I:
Your kiss felt like a riddle— a puzzle mouthed
in motion, syllables pressed against skin, body
language shelved in cynical libraries. I wanted
to read you without tearing the pages.
   
               She:
        I am neither saint nor sin, just a storm
                             pressed close to your skin. Claustrophobic,
                             yes— but don’t mistake that squeeze for chains.
                            I’m the thunder that reminds you to breathe,
                            the silence that steadies the wheel.

               Together:
     Handlebars shiver, storms bend the ride,
     but still we grip, still we glide— every fall,
                    every bruise, a geometry of love rewritten
                    in motion. Here we are, pedalling into the
                    pulse of rain. Handlebars & Hurricanes...

Talk in between the covers,
we have a lot to hide.
Left a piece of distress resting on
the pillowcase.

Your head was heavy as your lungs.
And between the weight of the
world and smoke, I wondered what kept you down.
What broke into your heart, and stole from you?

Nose running, but dry,
trying to mask insecurities.
You must of forgotten your eyes, yearning to cry.
Life bled you dry, and left you empty inside.

I tried to be by your side,
but you chose the night.
To hide away in your fears,
Better you being stuck in them, than them being stuck on you.

What broke you?

Not the world, but yourself.
The world gave you the hammer, telling you to strike.
You couldn't take any more of this living, so you opted to take your life.

But I quickly held you down, and whispered, "it's going to be alright."
A tear shed into pieces,
and with my tender loving kisses I told you, "you don't have to die tonight."

Not unless we're dying as two,
but I'll firstly die for you.

Do your eyes still traverse the corridors of memory, like a VCR
rewinding its cherished tapes? Capturing your reflection in the
mirror—still radiant, unadorned, and unapologetic. I still find
myself consumed by jealousy for that bathroom mirror,
privileged to witness you from every corner of your room.

Consumed by the sinister allure of your skin’s shadowy depths,
a brilliance emerges that rivals the most exquisite treasure.
My dear, you continue to weave a tapestry of uncertainty around
me—thoughts hovering like spectres above, even as you attempt
to mask the passage of time with a new hue in your hair.

Yet, your capricious emotions betray you, revealing strands of silver
that ravenously consume my heart, and each sigh a testament to
your power. You ought not to linger in the recesses of my mind,
yet these last seven days have only intensified my fascination,
leaving me utterly weak.

I cast my laments to the skies, my spirit weeping profusely – the
cascade of your lip’s whisper, the tempestuous tides of your form,
the fortress of towering trees echoing the curve of your legs – how
can I possibly avert my gaze from your enchanting eyes? You have
transformed my heart into a crime scene, slaying me piece by piece,
all for the sake of uniting with you.

Tall glass towers; on mountains of golden lakes.
An island of ten million dreams; blinded by the lights
of life. Heaven is a time like no other, as nothing has
an end. But all of it's residents have met their end.

Phased by the breath of tens of labours; the works of my
hands. I built glass memories, so fragile of remembering a
tragic past. All that is wasted; wasting away in thoughts.
****** as my hairs in the morning. Some on my neck, of
having their rest on my pillowcases.

A heavy throat, and it's husky voice. Mmh mmh; clearing it
to speak into a day. This morning is a timeless piece of whisky;
strong as the first swallow of belief.

Do I...

believe of any goodness ahead of me for today? A chance of better wealth to add some weight to a wallet? Meeting my potential love; as they're waiting out there?

But when, and how far are all of these things?

Who are the fools to know; all of the wisdom of ancestors
of where they should go? My forefathers have been at this place before. I do suppose; that I am progresses living words.

Onwards, forward, towards, heading, advances, going to
the places of what progress asks of me to go.