Our youth-
seemed to be all careless
So age finds and grows a child.

Peer pressured by our habits;
living in them like a habitat.
Stuck in a hole of teen depression;
as it looks to be a grey rabbit.

Peanut butter sheets; she’s trying to jam
Me up, sometimes when we’re making love –
But hey, we had a good laugh –

Our feelings;

Were never really bred so well from the start –
But hey, these days she loves a slice of my love.

Every time I spread her open, whenever she butters me up –
But hey, she’s my favourite flower, and my Buttercup.

Wait your turn, others will fail in front of you,
    Learn from where you stand
You too shall have your losses,
      But lesser the former:

Wait your turn, as love is a given,
   Still we must search
Not of a love out there, but a love
   In us—worth to be loved;
Don't chase what you can never hold,
   Nor trodden grounds of crave:

Wait your turn, till death picks you
  Not to be called by sparing lips,
Risks are life—though aren't the ones to risk your life
  Treat a moment as it's the last,—make it last:

Wait your turn, for no success comes in a day,
  No peace of heart is without pieces
Littered with worry, how do you dream?

Wait your turn, for these lessons
  Are what you'll always own,
Wait your turn, to be a father, a mother,
   A success, a people and great story
Wait your turn, my children to be
        A woman and a man.

Oh, dear poet of old, as I ponder on our shared past,
The irony of time's turn, a role reversal unsurpassed.
Once, you stood as the elder, wise and experienced,
Now, I find myself in your shoes, the one more advanced.

Nostalgia floods my being, memories resurfacing anew,
Like the innocent words we penned, when youth first drew.
Together we crafted a poem, a tale of popcorn's delight,
At the tender age of ten, our creativity took flight.

How funny it is, when memories unexpectedly arise,
Recalling mischievous days, crafting love's sweet guise.
Love letters for our peers, seeking help to express,
Feelings for their school crushes, a secret we'd address.

Those were the days of sharing lunches and causing a stir,
Chaos on the school buses, moments that now seem a blur.
This retrospective piece, a tribute to your resilience,
Facing challenges hidden, from prying adult's brilliance.

I remember your struggles, grappling with life's profound,
Questions of death and despair, a tightrope you walked around.
Contemplating drastic measures, to end your inner pain,
Yet, you persevered, your strength not in vain.

Your self-doubt and longing, they resonate within me,
The search for belonging, a struggle to truly be free.
But fear not, dear poet, for growth has come our way,
In finding our place, confidence blossoms each passing day.

Oh, how I lament the time we abandoned our pens,
Resorting to spoken words, a silence that never mends.
But after five long years, we reunited with our true art,
And the joy it brings, the growth, a masterpiece's start.

If only I could assure you, every word you write will be seen,
Celebrated and acknowledged, by eyes that have never been.
But alas, the reality is oftentimes unseen,
Yet, hold on to old dreams, for progress lies in between.

The journey may seem daunting, the finish line afar,
But take that brave step, and let your light become a star.
For in the depths of your soul, the fire of passion burns,
And with each word you write, a new chapter, the world learns.

A for anybody; for any of you reading
into my heart. Try correct the spelling.

B for beginning; to any great story I’m
soon to tell. I hope to get your understanding.

C for seasons; oh for life’s many moments
comes with change. All reshaping.

D for decisions; mostly the critical ones
I make in a day. I do so after praying.

E for eating; especially when I’m in a such
a bad mood. Who doesn’t love eating?

F for effort; so fit to do even in the hardest
of all situations. Just keep pushing!

G for ginger; sweet and bitter at times
while trying to be polite. People are testing.

H for eish; a word I often say under a lot
of daily stress. The closest I am to swearing.

I for iron; cause life’s a pressing matter
of sorts. And close to *******.

J for Jane; I couldn’t think of a clever word
but I’d most likely crush on one. Just saying.

K for Kassan; I wouldn’t be one shying away
from loving himself. I’m quite impressing.

L for l-plate; cause I’m still learning this
race to truly love. There’s no point rushing.

M for meh; not much for me to really say
when it comes to it. Just keep it moving.

N for anything; that tickles your fancy
on happiness. Just keep on smiling.

O for oh; of all the many realizations in
this beautiful life. So mesmerising.

P for pea; not the liquid if your mind
leaks. It wasn’t a vegetable I was fond of eating.

Q for cue; maybe as the time for me to
leave, or stick in the line. Cameras always rolling.

R for are; being asked if you are ready or
you are not. Especially if it’s something daring.

S for especially; mostly in the times my points
are right. No need correcting.

T for tedious; I’m not a fan of repeating myself
too many times. Are you listening?

U for euphoria; I’ve never been the happiest
to use that word. But I’m still trying.

V for victorious; and of the vision to
see my successes far ahead. I keep on dreaming.

W for double you; seems a bit to easy
but I’d wish to have a double of you. Talking about loving.

X for excellent; as of when I write something
that fills me with joy. So exciting!

Y for why; for a curious mind hungry
for wisdom, and spirituality. I long for reasoning.

Z for zeal; the cause is done when it finally
meets it’s end. Finally granted the best finishing.

those late texts
till my phone dies,
laughing by the corner
as i try not to,
  make a sound.
and spending late calls
on limited wi-fi.

I sleep knowing,
      I’m always close to the edge of death
I believe in the air,
      never thinking much to count a breath

I sit comfortably in public,
      not knowing the age of the chair
I accept a leader’s change,
      never questioning if it’s actually fair

I ride passenger,
      never wondering if the driver feels suicidal
I say amen as a crowd,
      not knowing if the people even believe in the Bible

I lie, I cry, I love, I hate, I forgive, I resent,
     I live to treat, but sometimes I need one’s care

But as a man,
     I cannot cheat on my barber, when it comes to my hair.

Days drift toward oblivion, as existence bears down upon the cosmos,
consuming us whole— we are a titan sculpted from the remnants of
lost souls, thriving in a vineyard of despair. These obsidian cherry
desires, weeping with the rain, and these lips, forged from the same
flesh, cry out in fervent prayers. “Lord, give us this day,” we plead,
yearning for the sustenance of daily bread. In the shadow of poverty,
joy fades into silence; in sorrow, we hear the haunting echoes of our
shared lament among the trees. In the pools of our sorrow, we gaze
upon untainted skin, the glimmering droplets mirrored in the water.

A miracle bestowed is akin to the sweetness of a first kiss; delicate
and fleeting — as we love holding our breath in anticipation of
another, yet failing to voice our true needs. Yet, life wears us down,
gathering us like discarded clothes— material smiles; we have
devoured the richness of our cherry desires, leaving only a handful
of barren stems in our wake—had you not sought instead this Daily
bread?

But what does daily bread signify for you – the clinking of coins, the
allure of wealth, the visage of another, their utterances, or the depths
of their emotions? Could it be that what you seek is not the bread that
nourishes your soul?

Oh to owe what isn’t owned; glorifying riches at hand to hold
— not for long. Skeletons, carcases, dust to dust, bones grow cold
as they get old; as the foundations you place your wealth on –
grow hollow once more.

As a man with absolutely nothing, has all the space in the world, to feel
they don’t belong. A man with everything counts up the credits they’re
owed, alas counting up all of the funds, to be counting down their days.

The grounds we walk on are all so slippery- constantly sliding money for
food. Working all of your life; filling up twenty-four hour slots gambling
all that one has at hand, end to end for ends meet.

We cannot hold onto time any longer then we try to hold onto money;
trying to weather through it all - it’s only easier when the weather's fine,
As hard times slip under the door, and the key to it refuses to thaw.

Still the poverty trap has steel jaws that snap, the trap of chasing money
as an escape- rises ourselves as serpents, curved to swallow our own tail.

                                  Our own tragedy of ssss…success.

This pain I speak of, it all comes in spasms
My walls crumble on themselves- gripping,
Tightening, constricting and then discharging

Oh how this life once filled me with pleasure,
A rush of excitement towards coming days
Touching the most sensitive parts of me
A pleasant pleasure of riding the little waves
In coupled desire and hunger, a peaceful
Ecstasy to my Divine

Now it has slowed down on itself
Accelerating on top of my angsts
For what was once the idyllic tingles in my toes;
Is now a feeling of anxiousness-
I have such cold feet

A pain of pleasuring in the company of pain
This is my self-inflicting prison
And its escape is maiden to me- a ******
In the penitentiary of this world’s *******

Why do I allow this world to leave holes in me?

As we immerse ourselves in this ecstatic embrace,
calling upon the stars; hoping they too know our name
—they bear witness to our passion, twinkling with joy
as they watch us revel in the depths of our blissful affection.

And in their silent presence, we are reminded of
the vastness of the universe and the infinitesimal yet
profound impact of our love. We lie there, bathed in
the shimmering light of the stars, we cannot help
but plan for the future.

Somebody’s child is crying – who threw their crush; their infatuations
cast aside like pebbles scattered upon the shore, each one a fragment
of that unrequited love. Yet, was it not a chore; to tidy up your deeds,
and striving for perfection akin to the grains beneath the ocean’s
floor? All the tears I’ve poured into the sea were swallowed by the
ocean’s depths; I wept so fiercely that the world around me, I could
barely see.

Somebody’s child is crying – just as the pivotal words were about to
unfurl; they lay there, crushed by the weight of the receding tide. A
face marred by sorrow, with nowhere to seek refuge – why is it that
the broken are masters of masquerade, donning a façade of joy while
harbouring a heart in despair?

Somebody’s child is crying – a forgotten avian adage whispers in
the wind; you could have soared through the skies of your dreams,
had you not grown cold feet as you had caught a mind flu. You are
a beauty never to surrender to yourself, yet vanity is but a fleeting
pleasure that will inevitably fade with time. Even the famous must
eventually fade into memory; every piece you love of someone, is a
part of your own personality. Perhaps the disdain you feel for another
is merely a mirror, revealing the parts of yourself you wish to deny.

Somebody’s child is crying – and that child is you, but you can’t hear
yourself.

tell me, what is the sound of a dying flower in my hands –
as it detaches from the bunch of blossoms and leaves?
the postman missed the message for me, that says,
“I’m heaven sent,”as I pictured myself a better man by
now - the mind draws, whatever aroma of heaven it dreams
of, and carries that detached scent

tell me there, Mr postman – did you grow a rose in your
pocket where I grew a small tree in my heart’s garden,
where falling leaves can be heard. if I could use words filled
with fire, I’d be a bonfire of poems burning at my creative
compost. post me on the wall of your memories, as a painting
of those falling leaves

as a darling would tell me I’m too worried about being
a leafless branch – hey there Mr postman, I finally have
the answer

the sound of crushed water from life, is just the sound
of its final tears – and I’ve heard the tears of that flower,
but it was really me crying about my own self - still being
more fragile.

Do not the ears of Heaven,
hear the heaviness in her voice;
the cries behind her throat;
the passionate tears of her soul;
And the echoes of a prayer's call?

Behind the closed door,
she's dressed with the Word;
shedding away skins of the world;
As she's then found to be bold.

She is,

whispering grieves;
exclaiming praise;
chanting tongues;
and reciting verses.

Baptised in Spirit,
covenant to faith;
blessed of plenty;
And a daughter of Great King.

Mighty is she,
mighty is He in her;
mighty is the strength of a woman's prayer;
And mighty is His strength within her.

Mighty is she,
mighty is He in her;
mighty is the strength of a woman's prayer;
And mighty is His strength within her.

Your kiss feels like a petal in a violent wind;
an edible desire on my florid cheeks- blushing in my
memory of you, incessantly playing out love and seduction;-
you threaten my eyes with longing.

Swimming in an ocean of your dreams;
her waters are so clear -every tear in her eyes reflects a
better version of me; as I see my love for you is so frail
-destined to fail from every touch of our running lips;-
chasing after love, its sweet venom killed me from the start.

Darling, our love was a short poem; written in black
-for we couldn’t see its predictable conclusion;
our love was a short poem;- short, brief and obscured.

I don’t miss her, being my girl- I just miss
the feeling of not being so in love with someone,
who doesn’t love you anymore.

                          Today I wrote her a black poem.

A story of spheres,
I'm wondering who fathered who; in the darkest
kisses all under this moon.
Oh, is the truth as clear under the sun, in the eyes
of the lonely son? Daily are the games of fun, running
away from troubles. Chasing a shot to success, like we're
all chasing a gun.

But I'm into changing thought. Like the days
that must come and go. Everything changes under
the sun that kisses the Earth.

But in all the wonders of the sky, and it's reason
and wonder. It all begs this question of, "why."
In this night, his lover is so bright, gazing upon
all of her lightness. She slowly fades out of his sight.

Wedded to his only bride, days setting,
kissing her goodnight; every time he brings
her a good morning. Saying hello as she's saying
goodbye; hurting him more in their only first sight.

Feels like a similar to my life.

"You're a pretty flower I can't hold,"
he sighs, just pondering at her marvel,

"Of the sweetest of things to behold;
you're always the one touched by my light,"
his love reflects, watching it all go to another.

"Why so, must I be allowed to watch;
as you're shining it upon my brother,"
as the story of spheres goes.

Alas, I'm often the son of the sun, in these daylight
thoughts. Anger burning my skin's surface;
but what comes in between happiness and self worth?
Successes of things I'm still chasing from birth, and
running around in three interlinked circles.
I just go back to myself in the first verse.

Again into daylight thoughts.

the few parts of life that always tries to break me down; two eyes
red as tailgate lights – I’ve cried too much, now. a cut-open heart,
with these slow healing wounds to lick on; but let them look upon
you, as who you are, before they look you down

as I hold the keys to my human drive, filled with locations, times,
accidents, and monthly repairs – amongst daily commutes of
businessmen, who only take monthly communion – falling silent
to one’s busy ears, the silence told me, a friend is only a true friend
when they stand above being just a part of your peers

still, to any love I give is two loves I give – loving myself, by loving
the hands that crafted me as I am. please excuse my wet wrists –
I’m a tearful man who doesn’t cry much in public.

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

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

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

stole my heart from an empty place –
our love is a battlefield;
fighting not to kiss one last time,
and making me feel like I’m in love
before I even kindled those very sparks –
                              my chest is your fireplace.

Too much pain in this empty misery
Too many snakes in the grassy yard. Really what's killing me.

Riot in the heart, it's going crazy down in the there
Riot, Riot, Riot, Riot
Control, Control, Control, Control, this could be the greatest pain I swear.

The wind is too strong, blowing my soul away
The cold nights feel too dark, when will come the other day.
Help me, help me, would the helped lend their hand to the help
Why smiles of so many people stink too well like old kelp.
This couldn't be the apocalypse but the  attitudes make it too soon
Just don't cry darling when you lose sight of a sun by early noon.

Start a riot, the heart of a oppressed disturbed the peace
Call the guards and chiefs we take your shots and pray you miss.
Hands in the air not for my surrender to you but to the King
Killed me now wouldn't really matter, going up to Heaven by Angel's Wings.

Hate me now, your hateful words could never fill my plate
I may be down and ***** but never take it as my only state.
Don't call me the beast to this game that's the name of the evil one
Don't speak his name in praise, his deeds be the ones of killing Nuns.

Riot, someone calm this storm in it's space
Lord we would need much peace in your arms. Give us your warm embrace  

Help us Dear Lord.

_

Oh, speak to me of these elusive dancing shoes;
for a love that could unfold so easily as a dance,
but I’m stumbling, lacking the steps to formerly romance –
It fills my heart with sadness, this reliance to chance,
for in the blink of an eye,

                I may have already missed my chance.

How We Must Bear With Those,
Possessing An
Origami Mouth;

Folding Their Hate Talk,
Into Decorative Speech

Tell Me, Even As Their
Mouth Speaks,
Does A Chef,
&

Their Own
Recipe Of Lies,

Taste The Deceit On
Their Own Lips;

What More
Their Kiss?

Slit wrists, stained kisses; the night of young
and dark thoughts to succumb. All at once, was
dreaming so fun, before the nightmare of daily life.
Surpassing the intent of suicide, staring at that
knife in pen. Then again—ink bleeds out onto
the paper's spread. ~the dark thoughts of my head.

Where I'll lie, laiden on a maiden I'd want to kiss,
a girl to call a Miss. And a softer wall to my fist.
Knuckles cracked in two by the bone; the flesh torn
as I'm fighting my demons on my own. ~what's the score?

                                         10-0

Ten of the times I feel like a zero, in the eyes
of imagining myself a comical hero. I'm a villain;
self antagonist in doubting my potential. Eggshell
walking steps from taking a risk. ~a little too careful.

Mediocre—the media oak of it's power to grow
in longevity, endurance. Enduring the worst parts
of me—in a Hell pit swallowing me. The burn marks
of scratching shoulders of the crowd to acknowledge me.
To be called a young Prodigy; ~with great honesty.

But honestly; I'm waiting for things not seasoned
in the time. In the directionless ways of a life with
no signs, or boundary lines I haven't drawn.
Covering a heel to bites of snakes slithering on my lawn.
If I got a loan for a night's success, what would the
world want in return? ~hopefully not my soul.

All my confessions; these deep depressions,
counting out my sins with the fingers of my blessings.
Hoping they aren't lessin, in the world's quick call to
change, is to keep on weaponing. ~wars are all we know.

Even the ones we never fought. We've been taught
how to fight back before the fighting began. Perhaps
we try our best at fighting alone. ~that's the way of
the world.

“What echoes in the void of a gun's chamber, poised at the head”
– the silencing of their countless voices howling within.
“What are the last words of a crimson blade caressing one’s throat”
– a haunting cutaway to a life now severed.
“What feeling envelops a lifeless body sprawled upon the floor”
– nothing but cold.

Does one merely attempt to compose their own funeral songs
– or weep a solitary tear for their own end, blinding themselves to
the haunting shadows of regret that herald their own downfall?
Does a fish, in a frantic bid for survival, strive to weep itself back
into existence, the moment it leaps from the depths, only to find
itself stranded? Are you familiar with the image of love's belly,
once alive with butterflies, now a dead man ensnared in a net?

The haunting questions of suicide linger like a ghostly whisper.
Can the choice to surrender to death ever truly unveil the answers
we seek? Do the celestial realms bear witness to our torment, or do
the infernal fires rejoice, growing ever fiercer with each soul they
claim?

Alas, it is only the departed who possess the knowledge of such
truths, and I shudder at the thought of being the one to unveil
such an answer myself...

To these incoming affections, capricious
outcoming sentiments, for an escort to date;
Would I die for anything close to true love—
honestly, I’d pray I’m not too late.

in a silent madness;- lies a lie like a gloomy past,
my eyes become a patch of crimson under a calmy vast
expanse of solid white -every tear was like frozen milk,
stirred by the coldness of a night.

the bitterness of an unfeeling presence, like a shadow
that invades my room; my unrest continued as daylight
darkened into night.

now dawning a forced crack of smile, like the winter
cracking the night’s skyline. the trees were so upset-
frost-shocked; swinging pieces of ice tears from the
winds upsetting cries- out loudly.

the frost in my veins freezes the time I have with a
jolt; it jars at my bones- like an endless fall into
tides, all rushing away, swept into my eyes.

for even when I close them so strongly, trying to
imagine warmth -I can still hear the harsh coldness
of this cold night.

I took that pill, and here were the symptoms:

In your eyes; I’d rather seem different, than distant—
still in the very distance, could you see me in a better light?

While coming to these unacquainted places;
meeting in between, hoping not to be as complacent.

As cutting ties, feels like cutting corners, still if I could
love someone only for a night, I’d adore the
memory of it, in that later morning.

A real tough pill to swallow.

Wayward thoughts, I think far ahead of myself. Stuck in my ways of a procrastinating thought, at least in the times I don’t know what to do.
Seems like there’s a lot of pressure nowadays. Alas with my careless
ways; of not caring at all for myself. Involved in the opinions of others, likely more than I listen to facts.

Sigh! Every piece I write feels like a sorrowful love letter to my past
self. That child would never sleep peacefully; knowing what future he
has to wake up to. But I need that younger me to keep on dreaming, for me to have something to believe in, (to hope in ) at these critical
moments.

But what about the future self? Do I even have the strength to bite on
my nerves; to remind him of current events? Writing in a diary I’ll
forget about in the coming years. Whether he becomes a success or
not, how long do I have to wait for the answer?

Longer than the patience I hold in my hands. Time fades away like a pair of jeans, worn out by the wearing anxiety of life. A button missing, with the threads sticking out. I've stuck out plenty, but few of the times that put me at an advantage. Foreign are my lips; by a tongue speaking blessings, that it feels like an unfamiliar language.

The pain never ends, but moves onto another. To change face, but still the first face you'll see in the morning. So perhaps the only thing I'll say to my past, and future self is, "I'm sorry"

Lost my socks,
guessing while I was drunk.
In a car I placed them was,
looked again to see them gone.

Still new to me,
a long type I don't wear usually.
Black with white dots,
didn't cost a lot, but still hurts as much.

Kept my toes warm,
I kept them well, making sure no holes form.
I bought two pairs to compliment each other,
I guess now the other is alone.
They were like two lovers.

Though I have a spare,
my heart is still in two from losing that pair.

Goodbye my socks, I'll be sad about you.

Where light is sun, moons shall pluck, foretelling
astronomy— Of the eyes set on luck; time has
become the many seasons of quality. All in the
brief moments that soon fall away— Like roaring
thunder to the ground. Only with the heavens predicting
all time, In her eyes filled of endless knowledge,
and it's wisdom brightest as constant stars.

Praying for the light to touch my mind— Resting
on my tongue. Oh Solomon's wisdom; of having
it echo through my heart. Granted to me on Earth,
I asked of you my God.

And in a fading dream
lost in a forest of nostalgia
Winds singing the days of old,
new to present, unlike when we were younger
Imagination it was; playing house in the yard,
imagining how we'd be as adults
Building our lives out of moulds of mud

...it's makes me laugh in tears,
of how much we've lost
from when we were young

By my life’s imposing conclusion;-
My poetry will all be an additional storyline
It’s words remembered; my memory but forgotten
Surely the beginning of someone else’s inspiration
-Of course, in the middle of their new found saga
  
     And by that, I shall be content.

And you squeeze my heart like a trigger;
a gun for a mouth; every word is a bullet piercing
at me with your deadly, and gripping love
You appear as a wonderful monster; roaming
in the dark; an unforeseeable future, focused
on a never-ending hope, that you and I shall last.

Our words become ash, skin will turn into dust, bones
become rust- my rib will one day disappear; the one that
belonged to your side. And by my side; you were my
much-loved poem, keeping me company, as all my old
lovers are above me.

Your very smile is an island that I’m stranded on,
your bright skin is the sun; our love a message in a
bottle, filled with …our words, kisses, voices, messages,
poems, verses and secrets untold.

And for one last warmth of your lips,
I’ll feed into them like a flame, and being burned
by your love. Goodbye, goodbye to us, and goodbye
to our love.

Let me draw you as a sketch;
a portrait of all those beautiful memories

And we can make up some future events,
with like a little paint on a face-
All of the colours of a world, you and I have to face

Stick to my side like a rib bone,
say that you love me with your chest

Skip the conversation about rocking your world,
and let me skip a rock on your stream, when we're alone

Let's tell each other all our ***** little secrets;
the ones with a little dirt, to keep us down to earth

Going around trying to pick at each other;
I do prefer to fork, but I had a spoon to scoop you up

Let's build a mansion of all our dreams,
and live in their moments, before the disappear

I'll let you be the playlist of my day,
and let you be an airpod in my ear, to hear you clear

Tell me, what's your favourite part,
and I'll play out the role with a script written
out, by all the feelings I have at heart.

I caught myself dreaming of places I’ve
never been to and seen before,
Breaking, decaying, crying my eyes out till
they’ve flooded the floor.

I’ve been flying; without the wings of
any of the angels or the birds,
Living with strangers; so unfamiliar inside of
this very small world.
Repairing these many things that never broke;
putting back the many tiny pieces of my soul.

Wondering where next to go.

Screaming, “keep your long breaks”
you can’t break into my heart.
Ease your pace into falling in love;
and my love test your brakes.

But I’m smiling in the dark,
hope you see my bright smile;
I stole from a thousand stars.
I drew a constellation in the skies;  
just to remind us who we truly are.

People!

Or have you forgotten, four gots; still
you’re counting them all,
Why are you so afraid to open up,
instead of letting people peep through the door?

Complaining about a little, but you could never
afford, or handle any more!
Waiting at corner shops; when there’s so much
in store.

Myself is the longest fight,
the battle never ends while you’re still alive.
But wouldn’t it put the enemy off, if you came
to the battle with a smile?

I can’t say it wouldn’t work, but it’s worth a-

Try!

Falling in love – like a leaf caught in a whimsical breeze,
Falling short on my words, falling away from myself,
Falling apart into pieces, to find a place in your heart…

I always try to match the taste of your tongue, each time
We ignite a spark beneath the glow of hopeful affection –
We’re adrift, far from the depths of true love; yet we declare
  It with every beat of our hungry hearts.

The heart can be cruel – yet yours is a tale I’ve been unravelling,
Woven with verses and hidden sonnets. You might have glimpsed
My own, despite its rough edges, or the rhythm it desperately
Tries to convey.

How wonderful it was to share the illusion of love.

To be human is sometimes being fearful of the unknown—
in a world where malevolence walks among us, where some
are openly evil; yet the most terrifying are those who cloak
wickedness behind an unsuspecting face... those I fear the most!

The love you believe they hold for you is an unknown
The truths they profess to share is an unknown
The appreciation they have for you is an unknown
The value of your value to them is an unknown
The picture of a non-public character is an unknown

And if there are facets of your being, to those you say are close
to you, yet they feel unknown – you were never that close!

To the awaited vineyard—as shaky lips are no more.
A taste of Devine; desirable passion burning as a fierce
fire. —As like my God, who has consumed my bare heart
of ravaging love.

My hungry eyes, burn eternal for my spouse.
As like ten million stars—so bright; I am blinded by love.
It is young, and untamed. As the mighty steed, wanting to
seed mates. Love is wild; but under the one you truly love,
shall it be tamed.

Shall your ears quake at the voice of your love— as your
lips call their name. It will be as the flower, twisting itself
towards the glory light. As the appetency of waters, the
nurturing and care. I pray where you set your dreams, your
love be there.

May the shape of their love be pleasing in your eyes.
As the romances be anew, of a new experiences night.
Prize them as something you could never afford, care for
them as the only you hold. Bring them up as righteous,
and blameless to the Lord. Pure and untainted —speak to
their ear the beauty of His Word.

I entreat to all. Love your beloved, as Christ loved the church.
I entreat to all. Respect your beloved, as they see you of your
worth.

Please don't burry me a hero'
I was born a simple man-
When I came into this world:
Please don't cry for my absence'
I was more active in the present.

Please don't speak about could have'
When you all should have,
Please don't cry on your knees;
But cry and dance on your feet.

For once I'm gone'
You'll forget me once time is long;
Even if you sing all the songs'
You'll forget me once time is long.

Please don't drag Amazing grace'
You may be sad for my death;
But for all I did in my life'
I'd love a little bit of praise:
And even in my death'
I won't be a fan of-
Long and complicated prayers.

Until my creator calls'
Spend the most of time we got:
Life is a breath away from death'
As we all, don't have a lot.

Remember me well in life'
Not showing off my memories,
For your never did before death:
For in this short life-
The season of remembrance-
Is still now and yet.

Cry more for me now;
For you'll cry less in my death'
Not crying for me,
But crying for all your regrets.

Reoccurrence; oh do I deserve it's again? Of love,
of time, of hope, of faith, of promise, and the beauties
of my yesterdays...

Reoccurrence; oh do I deserve it's again? Of grace,
of joy, of peace, of forgiveness, and the dreams of
my former slumbers...

Reoccurrence; oh do I deserve it's again? Of you,
of when we once loved, of our youth, and the desire
of a forever...

Of us; in the seasons of summer. The warmth of knowing
your bright smile. Of the spring; in the skips of steps towards
a future.

Do any of which; ever reoccur as like memories... Or are we
just moments; soon to be forgotten..

Will I reoccur in those memories...

A lullaby for my waking heart, someone sing it well.
Many mornings will come and go, yet for today's day I don't feel the same. Couldn't you tell.

Sing a lullaby for what this heart would take as it's favourite song,
Sweet voices to be sweeten in my ear, I'll find my lips to sing along.
As so my words could never paint the full picture but leaves a lasting outline.
Time should tell if it's been counting the days to add worth to my life by the quarter to a dime.

Still sing a song of smooth, sweet whispers to calm such unending nerves,
Lullaby of tender whispers all through a night of craze. To ride upon on Ocean's waves and curves.

O' I've burst a bubble for being lost in a moment. My heart could be dripping everywhere.
So be a voice to mix me back to one. Sing till you sing no more, if you dare.

Lullaby, O' Lullaby, sing loudly to bleed out my ears.
Please a voice of sweet and reason, calm a heart and wipe it's tears.

Mountains that are tall, cover the dreams
that are shallow. Valleys that are long,
are the lives that are too short,

Love that is blind, is a tragedy to eyes. Words
that are sweet, are sour to the years.
Beauty that is made, is the grief of an early
morning,

Choices that are made, is the shaping of
their future. Creatures of a thousand
breaths, are all under one Death,

Tears of now, aren’t the ones of forever.
Spirits to be filled, are of those empty vessels.
Transformation isn’t a sudden, but all a
continuous event,

All that we want to be, can all be.
The question is only,—

when?

When do you choose to move, in all
the things of life holding you back,
When do you choose to be brave, in all
the fears you constantly have to face,
When do you fix a broken world, in all
of the brokenness to be fixed in you,
When do you choose to love another, in all
of the less love they have for you,
And truly when do you make a change for yourself,
in all a society trying to change you,—

tell me when?

Lost in sombre details, of what really hangs around morals
-Crucifix, hanging around a sinner’s neck; so choked up
While the devil speaks on my livelihood with his demons
Parading as unwanted guests; foundations of personal griefs
I am unguarded; not well versed in a couple scripture verses

Versions of my weekly self- a relaxed stance, trying to have
Faith in a life of ease. Setting aside everything else, in the
Way of being by my bedside- faithfully praying on my knees

Still if my faith is loosely based on modern people’s commitment
To their faith and integrity, I might as well be faithless as them all-  
Seated in a church; behind on my many debts, sitting at the back
Listening to the loud laughs of the greatest hypocrites,
The usual Sunday gossip, sounding clearer than a church bell
Leaders who burnt me, quick to preach how I might go to Hell

As a failed sense of wholesome community in communal
Around church clicks of skin colour, for Sunday’s different cults
In what my conscious tries to say is a domicile sanctuary:
I’m a bit reluctant to fully agree with my own self

Enthralling – the vanished fragrances; my olfactory senses
are akin to a daisy, each petal plucked accompanied by
a murmur of “if she loves me, loves me not”

Her scent – sends sparks of shivers through me;
a fragrance bold enough to fill the space, gentle
not to drop it all.

My dear, is that very scent that ensnared my heart.

Closed eyes,
embracing you in the shadows,

The clock's chime igniting a flame
within me – resolutions!

No resolve in that fleeting moment
kissing into the new year; our midnight
kiss.