Skeletons trapped in
the closet;
trying to pick a bone,
I'm feeling so lost;
or maybe I'm just
feeling alone.

winter babies cry in the summer time – still thinking
about dying twice, still questioning this one life;
still questing to find still waters – still won’t we be
dying inside; drowning softy?

still silence – I don’t know my place; until I close
my eyes, and can’t see any of my shame. the moon gnaws
off a bit of myself – as putting on a brave face in the day,
is our nature.

we are lost lambs, that bleat themselves into silence.

Oh soul, my soul
where shall we go
At the crossroads; feels like
I have no other place to go

Oh soul, my soul
countless demons want this soul
As they count less of us, all out for someone's soul
—they want my soul, they want my soul
And I'm afraid I don't have the strength to say no

Oh soul, my soul
I don't want the world's gold;
just the means and tools to make my own
I don't want the entire world;
just a place I built on my own, and to call home
I don't want to feel alive with success;
just feeling some worth, and die peacefully alone

Oh soul, my soul
is it worth a soul
—is it worth our soul?

"I don't know, I don't know
I'm still waiting for a bad deal with the man
waiting for me at Death's crossroads"

And as a tongue lifts,
The words in between lips form:
As for a moment; do our lies last,
In endurance of our forever,
Do all truthful lips reside:

As I did taste a sense of deceit,
At a touch of lips when we kissed:

Perhaps this is why our love was but a moment.

To hope and dream:
IS for us all to believe.
To search and find:
IS to know our desires.
To love and cherish:
IS being raised as such.

A laugh, isn't as loud as a smile-
Laugh in pain;
pain hidden in a smile.
A bellow in our thoughts:
IS  the roar of sorrow.
Feast on today's successes:
IS the regret of tomorrow.

IS a child; whose eyes learn a father,
IS a mouth; that builds a character,
but harsh tongue to destroy them.

IS a child; whose eyes love a mother,
IS a hand; that rests gentle love,
but sparing rod that spoils them.

IS what one man does;
IS so done to another.
And we are; IS to the present;
as IS the will of us all.

Is... it not?

World's appetite for devastation,
leaves it always hungry
Those who feel like nothing,
will be the ones to do something
Behind every shadow, is a long battle,
Climbing our dreams. Don't fall off the ladder.

Physical desires intertwine with emotional sensations;
the gentle caress of skin speaks volumes about the essence of
one’s character. Unveiling the joy nestled deep within your spirit,
playful, alluring smiles flicker in the radiance of her being.
As the weight of guilt, anger, and anxiety often shadows the one
you cherish, mingling with the mysteries that linger unspoken.
In the wake of a love that has slipped away, she dances through
fragments of her dreams, clad in well-worn socks, still striving to
find her footing. There’s a lingering fear of being tainted by another-
whether through intimacy or confusion—yet she clings to the
innocence of her youth.

A lovely woman stands at your threshold, inviting you to
embrace her; don’t hesitate to welcome her warmth, for her heart
deserves to be cherished. Public displays of affection may be mere
theatrics, but the sincerity behind your words can convey her true
value, no matter the distance between you. Take pride in calling her
yours, but remember, she is not a possession; she is a daughter
of the Divine.

Seek not your reward in her actions meant to please you,
but rather find joy in the vulnerability she shares exclusively with
you, unmasked and genuine. Honour her in such a way that even
with her eyes closed, she can still feel your presence.
Love your woman fiercely, safeguarding her as your treasured gem—
not by offering the world, but by creating a sanctuary where
both of you can thrive together

Tell me how to wind up the wind’s tears trapped in my broken
car window. How to play a heart’s love songs on an old radio –
with the buzzing sounds in the speakers, speaking so ill of me.

And if I fall on my knees, would you watch me take my bow;
would you look me deep in my eyes, as if searching for a heaven;
or anything close to a safe haven?

While others marry happily yesterday, to be merry for tomorrow –
savouring the bites of sweet nothings; suckling, to feed a need
of their skin’s heat. In the rest of their night, they rest on innocent
linen washed with their tears of joy – but what if I don’t cry
anymore?

The wind in my life journey, has blown away my tears.

Everything will become nothing; snuggling closely
To all those days much brighter than yesterday
Running out of places to hide my shadow- a rush hour
Of emotions, hoping not to get stuck in more traffic
Laying on the sofa, putting a lot of thoughts in place
While she does so too, re-arranging her wig; sipping on cola
Weaving, adoring words to say at little speaking volumes;
Channelling together those gentle souls; generally speaking
Of how her tears sink away into the grass, like thirsty water
Thursday nights, where I’m planning to disappear into the earth
Folding into old habits with origami precision; time’s prison
Is feasting on me for dinner, and I’m drinking myself thinking
I don’t appreciate the time you and I spend together
But I argue with myself about it, when you’re only away

And it’s funny, how I’d pretend not to care;
Now here is the man who cares enough when you’re not there

Searching for love;
feels like a risk
Especially after-
that first kiss.

Your thoughts crash like thunder, a cacophony of pain, swept away
by the tempest waves of your hair; how ironic it is that men gaze
upon women’s ******* as if they were an oasis in a parched desert.
They possess a strength akin to mountains, while the valley of your
tears floods my vision. Within your form lies the purest fulfilment,
resonating through your very bones; how swiftly it transforms into
verses etched with sharp precision.

Our flesh and spirit coexist, yet they remain eternally apart – we
chase satisfaction in the simplest of joys, our spirits yearning for the
heavens, while the flesh craves a taste of heaven through one hell of
a life. With a gentle gaze, your lips ignite a wildfire, taming nothing
but the primal instincts you believe you have tamed.

The thirst for love flutters like a hummingbird, sipping from a nectar
we cannot measure, unaware of how it nourishes us or for how long.
I oscillate between life’s most profound moments – for human
pleasure demands no concentration, only the act of losing oneself
in the moment. Self-control is the very essence of that focus – yet
how swiftly our thoughts become dulled in the enigma of life.

                                            Everything is just an enigma in the end.

Drifting slow on a sinking boat,
Shallow waters still sinking my feet and soul.

In the feelings of being felt. Only feels closely good when I've left my innocence round a corner.
Don't hate me for the flesh taking control. I'm not fully around when it goes down.

Drunk in the lonely thoughts. It's a warm place I say but the world sees it cold.

And maybe perhaps I could be the stranger to this, like the new kid round the block.
Neighbors staring at you like I could rob your daughter's Heart with just a pick of the lock.

Just don't make the mistake that all good people couldn't have the bit of bad in the day,
When we go through the night crying on the pillow all the pain.

Be a shame

Thinking all cool kids were the ones driving cars so young and early,
Till current days thinking on it, I feel quite dumb and silly.

I mess things up,
Sometimes I wanna go back to the days of finding happiness at the bottom of this cup.

It kinda *****,
******* smarter than a fancy tux.

Riding solo in a world often chasing you behind. Guess it's my fault wanting to ride in front.

Try to catch up to me if you could,
Try to **** me, please I wish you would.

Rather die on the dirt a free slave,
Than a slave alive outside and a rotting corpse inside.

The azure of my skin – a shade reminiscent of the vast ocean,
melancholic as a distant horizon that forever eludes fulfilment;
it never seems complete. How can I compete with this solitude –
lying in a bed stripped of its warm embrace… Blue adorned my
pillowcase, where I dreamt of the crime of love; she stole my heart
in a blue-collar crime.

And blue was the only remnant she left behind, a sorrowful hue
that echoed my longing for a love that was never truly mine.

empty cup that fills my mind – down to earth man
sips the ground; a scent that erodes all other scents
swirling steam, a bittersweet dream – fruitful energy
given by the swirl of it’s heat; as my tongue ripens
to this flavour in my cup

the days are always a rush; a cup of coffee sort of helps
me slow it all down – thrown seeds to grow in my heart,
rejoicing in the love I have for my morning drink. reaping
for more, coffee seeds planted in the coffee machine.

cos some days I work myself like a machine – I need to
oil the machine, with the fuel from that coffee bean
the goosebumps rise on my skin, I’m in love with this
              coffee bean

The rustic wood exudes an oak essence,
imparting feelings reminiscent of timber
running through the depths of
a contemplative mind.

The morning wood embodies a
hardness akin to the tenacity of roots
growing defiantly out of solid mountain
rock—a force to be reckoned with.
She savors a taste that mingles with a sense
of triumph, a bittersweet victory vividly
displayed through a masked countenance.

Her prowess is demonstrated by
splitting rocks effortlessly with
the razor-sharp edges of her teeth,
wielding a tongue that doubles as a
deft weapon, teasing and tasting with
calculated precision. Each fiber of the pink
flower's stem is thoroughly imbued with flavor,
with a cascade of nectar streaming down
his throat, carrying forth every inspired
thought on a voyage of fervent creativity.

Reflecting on the past reveals remnants
of everything that has been left behind,
a realm where he fearlessly surmounts
challenges from behind the scenes.

Amidst disciplined actions, he occasionally
employs stern measures, firm and
unwavering. In his possession is a
substantial jumbo jet, soaring high into
the skies, causing her eyes to involuntarily
roll back in sheer awe, a testament to the
impressive magnitude of his influence.

I am not liberated; I’ll be drinking till I’m free
Dancing like a puppet; a puppet with no strings
If this is the land of promise; promise that none
Of the promises have skipped me

Do not assume that it’s over, to consume your  
Self-worth to just presume that you’re sober  
To close your eyes, to feel your joy coming closer
I do not amuse the fact of getting older, or overlook
The fact that the world is close to being over

Here is the past, images of your youth running past
Memories of it all, live as long as you last, be careful
Not to be chasing the pleasures of it, as chasing after lust
Take a secret fast; cleanse yourself of the regrets that
Have come past

We rise, we fall
We fight for many just to lose it all.
I hold my gun for it's the only thing closest to me.
Seen so much blood that it's so hard to dream.
I'm going down, I caught a grenade.

We march, we follow
We fight these wars on courage we borrow.
I chew on bullets just to keep my strength.
My nose has gone dull from the smell of stench.
I'm going down, I caught a grenade.

We shoot, we ****,
They told us all winning the war would be thrill.
My eyes are shut upon darkness,
My soul dark and cold that it can't bloom flowers.
I'm going down, I caught a grenade.

We ducked for cover,
But the enemies found us and shot my brother.
We tried to fight back, but it was all for waste,
The grenade they threw blew half my face.
I'm going down, I caught a grenade.

We won the war,
But the victory cut through me like a saw.
Was once a man,
But only now the half of him.
I was going down, I caught a grenade.

Going down, I caught a grenade.

To give summer kisses, but they taste like winter.
Called her flower, but every time he's with her,
she will slowly wither.

In her eyes—overwhere it always burns.
But not of passions; just a feeling of her scorned
flesh. Ashamed, close enough to bruise.
Filthy fingers that are winter in June.

Under his toxic power—oh the death of a flower.

Staring at this phone;-
Still waiting for the courage in myself to call
Your longing voice reflecting in my heart, like an echo
Clearly when I’m alone; swallowing the guitar strings
To play a soft melody in every one of my spoken words

But every time the phone’s waiting sound
Rings in my ear, every reason soon departs; I hang up
The phone before it even connects- feeling we’re no longer
As connected, as we used to be before;

So please, please save yourself, time, worth and words,
By all means, not feeling regretful to pick up the phone…

I owe you my attention
Jesus you owe me nothing
You can do all you can do
I'm tired of being restless
When I can't see myself
You can see me through and through

Caught up in my affection
No one loves me as you do
I come to you in repentance
I just owe you my attention
Giving every piece of my heart all to you

Nothing is as substantial
Jesus you're all that matters
In the questions of the world
I put you first, and trust your answers

You're a gold ring, and a rose
Covenants you've made—so beautiful
All the words you spoke, I'm in awe

Coming back for your bride
Let me make her pleasingly pure
Coming to fill my entire heart
Let me clear space in every room
Lord I need you now—I need you

I owe you my attention
I am so empty, being a vessel
Broken as I am, you still give blessing
I just owe you my attention

Lord you have all my attention

In Jesus name, Amen.

Incidents; I could of made a meal out
of myself, with the incidentals
I'm so usually full of myself,
so credit me for being prideful with proud credentials
And tell me what you care about most,
but please forgive me for saying, "yeah whatever"
So we can go make a bet on ourselves, but I'm
always betting on this time not fairing any better
Screaming at the walls so much, that a doctor is
rushing for a cure; but one of us is losing a reason to be patient

Bad mood 1

I stubbed my toe, but was too stubborn
to acknowledge any of the pain
And after I bit my inner cheek at supper,
I went to bed extra cheeky today
My vape ran out of steam, and I started to
evaporate from the crave,- I felt a bit like vapour to date
And there's a piece of bone stuck in my tooth,
now I've got a bone to pick with anything coming my way

Bad mood 2

I spilled my last sip under my bed,
great, no my unrest comes from down under
Chucking blundstones to your ankle length,
but it all ends with me admitting to another blunder
I'm not feeling so bright today; still I have faith in
the next day's sunlight- I hope we can warm up each other


Bad mood 3

Today I barked up the wrong tree,
and somebody got really *******
The week was a bit too hard to handle,
like a ******* girl by a ***** so soft
As I was trying to enter a course, like a game of life
playing a bit of golf; ***** deep in work, that ******* me off
I turned on a friendly smile I keep in my left pocket,
for the right of someone to be allowed to be angry
at me, as a one-off

                     I guess my mood from this piece is a bit off.

My excuses for wild love,
not a **** cheetah.
The truth is,
the feeling does make me starve.
A loving man, but also a hungry creature.

Pardon the time I waste,
tend be doing *******
Gibberish written on my face,
many words sound garbage.
I'm a real mess, I must confess.

Mind the shattered ideas,
best to pop the bulb
Explaining myself as such isn't ideal,
but I'm not one to be loud
Much quieter in the silence of the crowd.

Excuse myself from peers,
not on the same surface of pressure
Excuse myself from kids,
off the scale who can't measure
Worth me understanding,
but also understanding depression
I'm not lessor,
but I am one to question.

Excuse me for this,
and I'll excuse you for that
Excuse me being lost at times,
life didn't come with a map.
All we do could be the last risk.

But not an excuse to never take it.

Please pardon me; when I say, "it's all of me, all of me."
That's just the pride that swallows me; every time you love on
me, hug on me, each time we're cuddling, and snuggling. The
pretty scars look so ugh-gly; and that's not what I want my love
to be; honestly.

Making me wonder, "what the F," of the effort I'm taking; no
mistaking the fools of swine eating bacon. That's the charity
of clarity; giving your heart to all of the crowds, of all those
boys you met around. You've been around. Chasing circles
of where to be; as it seems. Dogs chasing tails; till it gets stuck
in your teeth. There's no peace, but the piece of sorrow; when your feelings were deceased. Diseased by the love sickness; as random kisses was the weakness to your knees.

I'm begging you please,

to stop pretending; that you're not trying to save up your worth
overspending; never-ending story of the people having the seconds of love's sequel. I'm a prequel to thought. What words are in the courts. All the illegal things that we bought; while breaking a few laws. I'm now allergic to a thought, of you giving me goosebumps in my pores.

I paused...

So you could stop playing my heart. Love loves to play with my
heart.

I paused...

Love loves to play with my heart.  Tell me when does it stop?

If I could have a taste of everything,
I’ll probably die, before I dine—with a jaded smile;
Cos everything that you see, is really not worth the time.

In these vacant palms — cradled by the essence of my aspirations;
I clung to you with every enduring emotion, trembling and slick
with the weight of nostalgia, far beyond what could be deemed
ordinary, or wise in grasping at faded recollections.

My throat feels parched; I gulped down a swarm of love bugs,
hoping to replenish the affection I’ve lost — lost lovers. My
fingers bear the scars of nervous habits, raw and gnawed down
to the quick; the restless heart fears that the sharpness of love
might not pierce me as it once did.

Only as the sun shines
Rising to the dawning of eyes—had I realise
we are then only seen beautiful, as like stars of night

The astrologer said to me, “the markings of your skin,
be as tiny dots of stars. Imperfectly perfect, as constellations
tell their stories”

I stored her knowledge,
upon the wisdom wrapped by lips—still with the
wondrous mind of child, we all want to discover

So as the child of the astrologer, I went out
into the world to discover, all not yet discovered.

A story of an edible piece,
food for thought to make you think.

I cut a pear in half,
and admittedly had a pair.
My two bananas friends broke up,
something I'd like to say was, "a banana split".
My peach friend proposed an idea,
but we don't listen to the peach pitch an idea.

Later on that day I chased
a man for being so annoying.
Told him to "go",
and boy did that mango.

I think his name was Barry,
told him it was the last straw.
So I yelled, "it's the last Strawberry".

Afterwards I was late,
for a romantic dinner with a fruit.
(It was a date).

Along the way,
I bumped into a  group of immature grapes,
funny because they were quick to wine.
I thought to myself, "what a bunch of sour grapes"

I noticed a doctor walking up to me,
and I felt really uncomfortable.
So I grabbed an apple and threw it at him,
to keep that doctor away today.
Next I noticed a pinning apple,
which had me thinking, "what a pineapple".

By the end of my story,
my date didn't go so well.
She ordered a coke. And I wanted to seem extra healthy,
So I ordered a fruit cocktail.

She left me alone, not before pouring out
her infatuations towards me.
To be honest, I thought that was just
a silly fruit crush.

That day I had enough of fruit.

I just pray she doesn't have an older brother,
he might beat me to a pulp.

Under tears of-
          rain;  
We're   all         the
        same.

No matter of
                    where
    you
           came. ..

We all take life-
       day by
                  day;
Sit,
  wait  and
                      pray. ..

What      stops 
                       God;
  doing  a    
 ­                miracle
       today?  

Sit,    
             wait,
and  
                      pray.

         Enjoy the-
kissing tears
                    of the
                        
                             Rain.

Puzzled— are all of the pieces falling away,
or falling quietly into place: these are assumptions from
the course of nothing, hoping to become something-
As for something for the time, I’ve come to ask whether
the feeling of nothing isn’t a feeling of things not fitting
well into their place

The picture feels like a maze labyrinth of emotions,
written so well out in braille- as that’s all I can honestly
feel right now

As the laid grail, comes from a sore back with *******
sacrifices- through the chambers of night; that which scares
me the most, is the constant nights where I’m trying to put
the puzzle pieces together of my life.

Feelings drained: ensnared in the relentless grasp of time’s
drain — spiralling just before the inevitable plunge; a descent
into nothingness. The narrative unfolds; a black hole nestled
in my chest; I am its plug- feeding it every toxic craving to fill the
void. The chill seeps in as I lie sprawled on the floor, gazing up
at the distant heavens.

I should shield my eyes with memories of the Word, yet I
find myself lost in the endless scroll of my phone — I ought
to whisper words of encouragement on the days when coping
feels impossible, but my lungs are heavy with smoke.

I need someone to explain the enigma of love, yet all I crave
is a taste of every girl that crosses my path. In the mirror, I see
only a ****, masked with a genuine smile draped over a hollow
shell, devoid of thought; it simply seeks gratification, even if
too much indulgence leads to regret.

I’m addicted to pleasure; yet each fleeting moment leaves
me feeling the least pleased.

Black as fair,
a tone to your dark skin.
Many pieces of joy entwined in your curly hair.

I swear,
by the promises I make to self,
I'll long for something as you, ever so rare.

Tender and care,
for you I must. I probably will I swear.
Loving a black queen in so deep,
by the love of her depth

Young are fools,
Young is love with it’s gazing wet eyes,
Young is time,— of it you still have,
Young are dreams,
Young are fears,
Young are the first worries life burdens us with,
Young are we all,—only for a time.

You are never too young of all to do,
But old in the spirits of picking whichever's when,
To start off young, and end off old.
Though life is as short,— it feels too young nowadays.

~All is too young.~

My love, seems to be ferocious.
Towards you, it could go unkind.
Best be wise.
The comparison of my love in your eyes, is much more than it's true size.

More of it lies!

Within my heart,
a battleground like no other.
The scars I've burdened, many I'm scared to show.
A grenade of emotions, counting down five
seconds away till they explode.
What more does it ask me for? A cost of interest I can't ignore.

I'm going round again for another tour!

Words are a weapon, you load with a tongue.
Lips the after fire. A gun powder of words I've spoken.
And I'm hoping my relentless love, won't leave one to be broken.
Love left me with many wounds, a few of which are still open.

Nowadays I'm just coping!

I'll fight for you, as much as you fight for me.
Give my all, as much as you've given all to me.

Don't give up on me!

Love you as much as you love the much of me.
Be all as you want, as the want you are to me.

All that I am is you. All that you are is me.

Till the end of a battle knife,
you've carved a piece of you in my skin.
And to think,
at a time I questioned this all being a dream.

But what is real!?

A war for love asks for blood. We bleed for the one we love.

That's real!

Making love to each other. Two sides coming to make peace out of their conflicts.

That's real!

We've made accords to each other. Two parties coming to terms in the end.

That's real!

We spit fire at each other. Arguing till one admits the other is right.

That's real!

We'll fight for love, and tear a few hearts down.
The smoke all clears. And we hope the result in the end is, true love found.

A true war to love.

A whole lot of lies swimming in a pond – ducking the truth; as I
threw a rock into the water, and it unfortunately croaked, to the
misery of those frogs. I watched as a young lady was kissing to
find her Prince charming; and I still don’t know if she ever
found him, because she had a frog in her throat.

Ah nature, with its crude nature – it laughs in the wind at night,
blowing branches as you try to sleep. And when crickets decide
to mate, is it the whole world that goes quiet as those insects?
And if it’s a game of love they play, I surely hope it isn’t ironically
like cricket – making a few runs of the person running on your
mind; while giving it all you can to have a ball with them. But
they only seem to bat an eyelid.

But aren’t you all sometimes hungry for love, like the sea that
hungers to conquer more land? Let’s erode these old cliffs, of our
own peaks, to be left with the bare essentials. And would you
mistake me as someone who falls in love with one’s essentials –
saying it with my chest; to bare one’s chest? Maybe my love isn’t
as wet, to water down those starved parts of your heart.
Darling, I’m just a small pond.

But wasn’t it a pond, where the Princess had found her love?

As much, in every man’s eye- eroticism brings excitement,
the lines of wrinkled sheets are a retreat without restraint
Every one of our kisses tastes like they matter; we flatter
each other on playing it casual— until anticipated and complete
She is no less than a queen; she sits on my thrown, ruled by these
words- all the shells of the shots I’ve shot; whenever we're around
we stain the ground; inhaling a bit of hell, with every bad habit

Moisture: more so to the reply of, “yes sir”
her tears echo soothing rain, but these tired red eyes don't see
much love- but still when it comes to touch; I'm filled with ideas
by her flood. Words keeping on flowing; but my regards to any
authority, I've been living lawlessly - against her authority

Old habits can’t really die when they pass,
even as an *** shakes backwards, with all the regrets to take
me back to my past. You can still taste a lot of things much harder
to swallow than your pride— that burning heat of passion, from
your mouth’s chamber: an abode of sweet remembrance
Now, as we must, not discuss about the label of us- in a nutshell
the conversation changes tone after someone’s nut is bust
****, how rough is that- we played a role to work ourselves
out of lust. We call each other, our Devil’s assistant…

I was sitting by the mailbox waiting on love,  stiff as
a recently washed shirt- sitting on an ironing board
I’m sorry if you catch me in a sour mood, there’s this moody
spirit that let me fall in love with the echoes hitting the wall-
While my voice was shouting at the wind; I could hardly breathe
My lover played a tune with my beard, as if they were guitar strings-
But I couldn’t complain to this lioness, for she’s the roar of a
mistress’s hungry temper

But I still love her so, still from the days of our courtship- and every
night she opens up to me as a suitcase, and I bare the luggage of her
nightly sores, with these bags hanging under my eyes-
I still love her so, as her chatter mouth is like a tap running,
and I’m her sink catching all that gossiping spit-

I still love her so, even as she’s an office desk covered in endless
papers, when she starts to feel like a piece of work-
I still love her so, cos she firstly showed me all of her flaws,
so nothing she does surprises me at all; still she was pleasantly
surprised that I still chose her, to be my wife

You cherish me merely as a coin — always anticipating change,
you seek me out only when it’s time for heads, chasing after tail.
I’ve been tossed about by you countless times; my feet now bear
the weight of my head. Say you love to call me, “mine,” yet
you handle me like a mere dime tucked away in your pocket –
only reaching for me when your hands are empty of anything
else to own- and pass me around like a debt you owe.

Beloved, your touch is far chillier than all the jealousy that
exists in this world. I'm just a cold coin to you.

life, has had its few licks of me – to envelop me in its envelope;
a sad message to myself. but don’t we all wish we were perfect
messages from God, a bit heaven sent? to the people who worry
what people say about them – their weight of words; drowning
more in people’s words, then any piece of writing in the Word

p.s, a well written letter to myself – I’ve been trying to line up
most of my better memories in alphabetic form; while holding
a solitary feather. I got stuck at the letter A, to list all of my
achievements

hoping to steal time like a stolen kiss; conscious thoughts that
escape my lips – speaking of me as someone you’d truly miss.
as I sign a message of my life in the ink of my fallen tears
       trying to stick onto the side of hope, as a sticky note!

Blind to the subject of being blind in love –
does that mean I can see?

Do I believe in the belief; of love at first sight
isn’t faith believing in that you cannot see,
that which you hope to be?

But I could close my eyes to a better scene –
when we go out and it doesn’t go so well;
we should have made it a blind date!

            Now this love feels blind.

Lift my eyes inside my skull'
Searching for the words I;
Can quickly pen down:
Write a Poetic piece,
And for a moment feel proud.

This language of love—

how do I express it without the words...

where do I place it without the touch...

when do I show it without my eyes...  

what do I have without the heart...

who do I love without the reason...

and why do I fall in without the love?

                  My love language...

somewhere out in the world, somebody’s child is dying –
we all should be crying, but being miles apart, you right
now could be smiling – knowing not a thing

life is often tragedy; in other times it’s the happier times
to make us smile. we are a billion diamonds reflecting
each other lights – we hope to live, we all know we’ll
die, some hope for peace, still we fight within this life
to try and survive  

we do our best to dream, even when sleep has other plans
so for some, they re-enact the scenes from dreams to make
them seem real. though the past is gone, some of the memories
of it don’t make a retreat; some hope for peace, still we fight
within this life to try and survive  
                seems we’ve always been bred to fight.

As I rest on the rigid air – a leaf drifts down, soothing in
its descent; by a gush, the wind that blows through hair.
Tears cascade like rain, shattering and scattering as they
touch the ground— parting the throng of young and old,
all yearning for the fill of love to seep deep into their pores.

I am merely a frigid leaf; the tear of my once grief
the bruise of all dreams pursued with bare feet.

The gentle kiss of light seeks to rekindle the spark in your
eyes— I've heard the haunting echoes of blindness, of a
relentless quest for self, yet finding nothing of substance.

I am just a sigh, empty and bare.

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

I am a riddle;
  (only a few understand)

An unspoken poem;
      (few will find)

As shall by the gates,
do wisdom and I meet.

A riddle of purpose, &
the answer we all seek.

You're only as strong
knowing your greatest weakness
If man knows not what they fight for,
why must he fight at all?

An open palm to aid the people,
closed one to protect things most cherished.

To force another to fight their battles,
shouldn't be as so.
One who cannot fight battles within them,
cannot fight the many more battles outwards.
If man knows not what they fight for,
why must he fight at all?

But if by any chance
one could win a war without fighting
and spilling blood
He'd be a fool not to take it.

One must know the worth
of what they fight for
to truly value it of it's all.

Be it,
family, integrity, ambitions or cause.
One fights with all that he has.
And only gives up
if they no longer have the strength of Lord.