You were once my everything – everywhere. A whisper of a voice,
now a ghost in the air; you reigned supreme over my thoughts, –
my mind was your throne, your beauty an heir. I leaped into the
depths of your heart, clad in a jumpsuit, forsaking the safety of a parachute – and thus, I plummeted into your love from the moment
we first crush. I was but a mere pebble next to your rock, dwarfed by
your strength; shattered by your stability, reduced to mere dust.

My skin, now tarnished like rust – the remnants of my words
mingling with the oxygen I struggled to breathe, left gasping in your
breath-taking presence. Tears welled in my eyes, mourning the loss
of you, while the iron resolve it took to finally move on felt like an
eternity… from a love that must have been so rushed?

And yet, I still cling to hope;

You were once my everything – everywhere. But now I find my
heart adrift, lost in this wind to nowhere.

My dear Bambi lover, I notice a hint of fear in your eyes tonight —
fleeing from the glint of light that dances within my eyes. It was never
my aim to send you fleeing, my dear.

Even though my affection blooms most brightly beneath the warming
hues of sunrise- fret not, for we can find solace in each other’s arms,
cradled by the soothing melodies of our cherished memories for
another twilight

There’s an apocalypse in my eyes – but I’ll only get to see it when
I die; for the moment of my demise. Bring back the day; for I am
acutely aware that time runs its course, on an endless mile – an
infinite stretch. It pains me to don a fake smile, yet it appears
simpler when they insist, I haven’t worn it in a while.

I’m a lot happier inside!

I have a few events scripted, priming my heart for people’s let-downs,
and my disappointments – when you’re ready to face a torrent of
hurt, you find yourself anchored, awaiting their appointments.

Pain is faceless!

The past lingers with a relentless patience, ever eager to unveil how
you did it wrong – in the garden of life, regrets sprout like stubborn
weeds. Do tend to your plot, and sow the seeds of every lesson
learned, and hope wisdom grows.

You’ve been the prettiest flower all along!

The first crushes we had,
later on life broke our hearts.
Not like we'd ever get that far,
but the furthest we ever get to
is baring these scars.

"My nice guy",
often too nice to get the girl.
Watching the bad boy steal her soul, really works the nerves.
We were the ones to know what she really deserves,
but the picture of that never occurs.

So we gave up on chasing girls we couldn't afford,
spending most of our time on other goals.
Shooting shots once in awhile,
not for anything much. Just to give a girl a smile.
Writing love letters, and buying chocolate for Valentine's.
"Would you be mine for the occasion?
Oh you have a boyfriend. Well then never mind."
I don't see what you see in him,
while he's too focused on the features outside.

Try my luck with another girl,
so quick to be curved.
She bent me out of shape,
I set my emotions aside for you, put my heart on reserved.

Learning from past experiences,
watching bad boys get the girls.
"You can't be serious!?"
Quite obvious he'd play your heart, but you seemed so delirious.
None of my business, I already lost interest.
No profit I found, just some empty pieces.

But I'm still the "Nice Guy",
been the Mr himself for quite a while.
Thinking I suffer from late denial.
Casing the situation. But I already lost that trial.
Knowing you'll cry so quickly on my shoulder,
and I'll be so dumb to smile.

Afterwards tell me you wish you could meet a guy like me.
Pretty sure I'm the one to be,
but with all those tears, it must be hard to see.
You'll walk off like you and I could never be,
acting if I wouldn't make the best of company.

Shoot me down by calling me a brother.
Fine I guess, when you're a hot mess.
My mistake was being good friends with your mother.
You'll go to find somebody else.
Oh well! I bet it won't work out as well.

"Mr Nice Guy", just nurses the wounds.
Goes misunderstood, but still keeps a smile.
What more can he do?

A tale of Mr Nice Guy.

my fingers, desperately tracing – tear through the fabric of my sheets;
in my dreams people recite such beautiful poems... oh, how I wish I
could have written them all down. i fought myself in a dream battling
my own spirit to awaken, but all I was able to write down was...

                                                         ­  silence!

now, I yearn to return to that ephemeral instant, riding the rails of my
mind – a train of thought; aboard a back train seeking the lost echoes
of my backed-up thoughts.

                                        that last train to find a another poem!

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

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

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

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

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

I guess I'll always be too religious.

I am man who wants a lot though – I hope I win the lotto! I hope
she didn't try to park her heart in my mind, "where did she park
her car though?" Depression rides passenger, like some useless
cargo – I've studied my drive for a loaned passion, keeping an eye
on that car note. But sometimes I wonder where this car goes;
and I haven’t met the kiss of peace, just like I never seen Chicago.

I have a lot of goals – but scores of hurt; from questions of self-worth.
Tell me the maker of mismatched hopes, and the creator of dreams
from their birth? Who first put a curse on the tongue, to speak a few
curse words – who went that under someone, to underestimate when
they show a few nerves?

Would someone show me the why to the end of one's poverty -
better yet, how to own your misfortunes as first steps to fortune,
and living your worth, as your own property.

I am man who wants a lot - a whole lot of answers, to the questions
about the script of my life story; to live up to its plot.

Freedom at no cost,
an escape not held by price.
A slave to this harsh living,
every breath like chains shaking.

Freedom from negative emotions,
the many that keep me down.
Self known for battling depression,
freedom I fight for, (to be alive again).

Freedom from many pains,
heartbreaks, disappointments, many regrets.
Many things keep me captive,
none of which should control me.
Why then do I call them my master?

Freedom I must obtain,
from a forced burden as a slave.
My will, (willing to be brave),
The sweet taste of freedom I'll have one day.

Bear in mind – as I conjured an image of a bear in my mind,
both indulging in a few rounds at the bar; raising the bar to
dizzying heights, till one of us might succumb to intoxication.

A rather fishy scenario, devoid of any fishy breakfast beneath
the bear's breath, reminiscent of a grizzly confrontation.

Yet, we diligently tailed our cocktails at the counter –
chasing after them without any count of remorse.
For we both loathed the winter that awaited us beyond those
bar doors, devising a scheme to drink deeply enough to drift
into slumber and embrace the idea of hibernation.

I guess that’s what you get when a man has cocktails with
a bear at the bar - only to discover that by the end, I was left
with a solitary bear, while my wallet lay stripped of its treasures,
solitary bare.

In the quiet corners of my
mind, I get lost
in my words –
as are my thoughts swirling
like leaves in the wind.
My notebook and pen become my
abditory:
a secret refuge where I
can disappear.

__

And it is here, in this
cherished hideaway, that I
lose
myself completely,
enveloped in the embrace
of
ink and paper,
crafting a reality
all my own.

the sweet scent of flowers
grazes the finely thinned hairs of a lover
while a butterfly flits in their stomach ready
to tie that uncomfortable knot…

                               she has fallen in love.

Picture frame of ugliness – but not what the world sees,
when your paint yourself under your insecurities.
Does that make you a coward; or are their eyes
the cowards, too afraid to see the real picture of
themselves?

societal expectations, and passive judgments –
behold their critical gaze; yet so are the eyes that can’t
stare themselves in the face. so too, blinded by their
own fears, and personal insecurities.

But as you start to peel away at the metaphoric picture
frame, retracing their hidden layers of drawn over
strokes of new paint - embracing vulnerability;

I'm between finding myself in my inner self-criticism,
and external judgments – I could be the picture of the
prettiest flowers, and hoping one day I learn to paint
myself under the brushstrokes of security, and
vulnerability!

my picture is finally complete!

we are speech and breath
the days are red; painted blushes in the sky
would the Heavens tell us stories of true love –
a message well read?

We are the blind faith of birds believing
In these empty sightless winds,
Sugar-spun cotton candy clouds; two kites
With trailing long strings.

We require no advice on the art of how
To fly, tangled traffic threads of candy cane
Lines of the clouds of yesteryears –
Our drive is sometimes a descent down
A mountain, make the time to embrace the sky;
Glide!

I gave up on my possession of love, to make
Peace with those demons; tears cascade like
Contemporary storms, running rivulets; craters
Upon our skin as the ache of hurt deepens...

Stinging like the creases of a well-worn shirt;
Lessons etched in the fabric of new wrinkles –
Still to remain as the silhouettes of the horizon.

Act as if I'm not moved by movies,
how'd that play out if it's not seen
Flip away the motion,
picture me stuck in a box of a T.V screen.

Why I speak like this,
is a person who often lives remote.
Losing control
as I try to channel every emotion.
People live to have no Parental Guidance,
all live their lives watching in due caution.

We've rated ourselves explicit,
our actions can be offensive content
The biggest of man profits from
the suffering of others.
The world is like one filled with many vultures.

The stage is set,
love in this picture shouldn't be misplaced.
Lights, camera, action!
Give your all of true love,
until none is left.
Life didn't come with scripted lines,
we can't always imitate all that we've read.

BUT,

We all have a role to play,
do be weary of the size
No matter the camera time,
play your role well to the fullest.
At the end of life,
hold high that Academy Award prize.

When all is said and done,
you'll be known as part of a "great people"
Live this one life well, there's no sequel.
When all is said and done,
you'll know, "That's a wrap people"

We look to the sky,
wishing to touch a piece of the sun.
Has the sun not touched us?
God like the Sun is always there,
even in the darkness.

The rays we feel,
his unconditional love for us.

You are loved no matter,
who you are, where you are.
And in whatever situation you're going through.

God is great, and greatly loves us.

On these eve; child born of ******' womb,
A light of birth, to death and risen from tomb.

Shepherds behold, of the angels of their night,
Wise men behold, of a guiding star' light.

Behold child of glory, resting in babe' bed,
In straws he shall lay, of king' crown on head.

Behold the son of man where he lay,
The Lord Jesus was born today.

I've searched for many things,
many of which I've tried to hold.
My vigor was strong,
a diligent miner seeking for precious gold.

But I hadn't found enough.

Within range of my human labor and skill,
I did my all to attain wisdom.
Climbed the highest of mountains,
all of which weren't high enough.
The highest peak only comes by
revelation from God.

All these human efforts weren't enough.

I met with wisdom,
soon after meeting with God.
Things that perplex me,
do not perplex Him.
Mysteries that surround me,
are no mystery to Him.

I was in awe. In awe more than enough.

He authors true wisdom,
so effortlessly, like a work of art.
All revealed to me
by the knowledge of the mind of God.

All that felt more than enough.

God. Endlessly rich with
wisdom at his disposal.
Wisdom and power through the
design of the natural world.
True wisdom comes from God,
by being in right relation with Him

(The fear of the Lord)

A key to Wisdom,
all that was unlocked was when
I was in relationship with God.

I truly now know the Source of Wisdom.

Round the city blocks;
with its fake people,
       And the bad crowds.

***** dealers;
and their corrupt cops

House party speakers-
cracking noises
                   So **** loud.

Amongst all the chaos-
still wishing my love was
                        Still around.

Now...

I can't sleep; because of it.
I can't wake up happy; because of it.
I can't breathe; because of it.
I can't move; because of it.
I can't eat; because of it.
I can't live; because of it.
I can't make new friends; because of it.
I can't be alone; because of it.
I can't deal with large crowds; because of it.
I can't be me; because of it,
But I'm not defined as a person; because of it.

I'm not worthless; because of it.
I'm not weak; because of it.
I'm not a fool; because of it.
I'm not an outcast; because of it.
I'm not less of a dreamer; because of it.
I'm not the only one suffering; because of it.
My life's struggles may be the cause of it,
But I'll do so many things because of it.

I'll choose to push on; because of it.
I'll choose to smile; because of it.
I'll cry at night sometimes; because of it.
I'll constantly be inspired; because of it.
I'll craft masterpieces; because of it.
I'll comfort others in the same boat; because of it.
I'll continue to be the advocate for change; because of it.

And my depression is the cause of many things;
all the good, bad and moderate.

As all you see of me; is because of it.

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

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

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

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

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

I thank the working of the Lord!

I rummaged through my wallet, checking if my card
was still nestled safely inside. “Yep, it’s here,” I muttered,
counting the cash I had on hand, just in case the card
decided to let me down.

Ah, our first date; my nerves were a whirlwind,
as I had never really ventured out with girls before.
A milestone in so many ways—my first date with a girl,
the inaugural use of my own credit card, and the first
time my hard-earned money spent on someone other
than myself or my parents.

And if I play my cards right, it might just
lead to our first kiss.

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

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

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

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

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

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

I am a hanging thread, hanging onto life,
in this delicate fabric of existence; concealed in a shirt.
The fibres strain, so be gentle, for a harsh tug may
unravel my very depth.

Sewn together by dreams, woven with the strands
of hope, my soft cotton faith absorbs the anguish
that surrounds me.

I am a hanging thread, hanging on for dear life –
with a singular, poignant message to impart:

Hang in there!

I heard the darkness was freeing – for in it you cannot see your
mistakes; and would I be wrong to assume that’s where *******
children are made?

I heard the darkness was freeing – that even if you looked at your
ugly reflection, that part of yourself would always seem so far
away…

       The dark, can be uncomfortable – sometimes; but also warming
   in your worst times – all you can do is withstand the slow erosion
of your happier memories; the darkness has seen me bare; it has
cradled my tears, and for a fleeting moment, it made me feel loved,
only to turn its back and betray.

I heard the darkness was freeing – for when you felt like nothing,
you could be a peaceful nothing in this endless nothing place

I heard the darkness was freeing – it grants me a semblance of
acceptance, allowing me to revel in the very things that bring me
shame – oh, how I ought to flee from this place, yet it soothes the
burdens of the day.

Three things I can’t live without…

Coffee, Creativity & Church

For coffee fuels my creativity;
My creativity comes from my worth –
A worth I only learnt of, going to church.

Heaven always too high,
down on earth acting
like I got seven lives.
I don't really fear death less I
see death in the sky.

That's the forecast of the season
hoping we make out this spring,
We're all out here hoping and believing,
We see the better light of the sun
hoping this season isn't so dim.
Counting the stars in the sky,
for the ones we betting our dreams on.
Don't we always love to act so ply,
bent over ourselves by our demons
And where they come from,
like the places we try to hide.

Let's all gather around
in this upside-down world,
What you see is only a flipped idea,
how isn't that profound?  
Far below us, an intellectual arrangement to the fold.

Seems we're all bending the
rules of life,
A risk we seem to be taking,
forgetting the consequences once in the afterlife.

I'm just spit balling here,
so cover your face
I'm not running away from life,
just out for the chase,
Tell me if there's any of you like that
out there?

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

                  ...I rise in bravery on this hill

Aim for my heart, calling Heaven above; an angel has
left me to tears, down on my knees- racing across a
bridge reaching out to my heart. My eyes have been thrown
into a sea, deep down until I drown, in the depth
of her passion- it’s her world in my eyes I see

As she touched the most sensitive part of me, this nuptial
union; we are only human, seeking to multiple- there’s
always that desire of creation in both our eyes. We’re now
together— alone at last; to reproduce our life’s kind,
and putting ease to restless minds

Her kiss of oxygen turns into flames- I turn off the lights,
and still see her body glow; skins smooth as silk- free
from these robes, to a sight of her that soothes my tongue
And with a coy smile, we’ll rekindle the fire of our body’s
fireplace once again, tonight

Zip tie lock your legs- anchor down your stress;
change the fabric address of that nice sunny dress
Body full of blows, skin made of dust; counting on hope,
joy, and sorrow, every after hour of the day’s settled dusk
From telling thin lies from the thick of red lips on a reed,
to all those gears of ideas start to shift away- taking steps
in reverse, when everything is exposed of your old deeds

Tears in the river of tiny ripples to the sound of love;
to be honest it’s an unfamiliar sound- 3,500 mites;
become a float of those ticking ideas. Scrums around the
clock, sharing bread crumbs with old chums— those few
who actually stuck around

As time starts to show, on the flakes of skin, the loss of
strong hairs; you feel much older to a recent picture-
the unfamiliar creature, invisible to so many people
But with a smile, you appreciate all the places you have
been. You must be ready to meet your King…

I am a poetic heart that wants to speak in prose – about the pros
and cons about being in love, or being alone. But don't you go
tripping on your words; you might just fall in love tonight. And
I know her girlfriend is going to preach to me tonight, and I might
just listen to avoid another fight.

She knows I've got a contraband of controversial thoughts, and I
wonder if I ever manage to cross the border, will I find my mouth?
While closing my eyes to the sun— the horizon never felt so dark!
But if we cross swords to spar, could we eventually make a spark?

But when your tears are burning in my hands; which blisters do I
call my scars, while losing the bite for time; like all the missing teeth
you find on the floor of popular bars.

I look in the mirror, and it still asks me who I am; whether or not
I'll choose to follow old plans — should the white in my eyes look
at all the things I like, and conquer those lands? But my black dots
are still slaved to themselves; when we seem to be strangers to
ourselves. I still shut my eyes when I look at myself!

…don't give an F to the world, as it will only play you out so flat. it's a
place where young men are taught from a tender age to think with a
D, as if that's the major key to success – we desperately need some
minor adjustments in all our mindset's metronome

life:

the stark black and white hues, like the keys on a piano, as
everyone tries to ascend their scale of freedom. so often, I find myself
pondering what melodies, the piano man in the sky composes as he
watches over us, his fingers dancing effortlessly across the celestial
keys – harmonies to echo through the universe

our heart’s compositions reflect a symphony of your own human
emotions, those blending notes of joy, sorrow, love, and hope – a
beautiful crescendo of one’s life journey. but we live as a fleeting
chord in the vast symphony of the cosmos, hoping to play each note
with delicate precision and purpose

the music within and around you, could guide you through the
harmonies and dissonances of life. fighting the silent chaos in your
head – or being the distracting sound of chaos from all your worries
                             this grand life piano.

I’m left bare by a grizzly burden of a bear upon my thoughts – heavy,
and hibernating; as the love of my life dashes across the winding road
of my mind – my eyes are headlights illuminating to my dear. My
love for her still endures, even when she poses her ***** questions,
“Would you still love me if I were a worm crawling through the
dirt?” Of course, my heart answers yes, for I often ponder how she so
effortlessly wiggled her way into my life.

“Does this outfit make me look fat?” she asks, and I reply with a
cheerful “no,” yet the the elephant in the room, is always remembering that fateful night when I jokingly answered yes, and I became
irrelevant over her bedside.

Yet, I am the dog, when I **** her off – but it’s okay, for I know I’ll
simply mark my territory in that doghouse. Still, like a devoted pup,
my tail wags with joy at the sound of her voice. And if my attempts to
win her back after a quarrel make her sweet on me again – then I
suppose I’m a bee, and you, my darling, I call Honey.

The reality is, we’ve always recognized the humour in my antics –
and our love is animal, untamed and primal, yet beautifully
restrained by the fervour of our unwavering devotion to one another.

My existence is non-existent;
Life, is just a puzzle of reasons,
trying to connect the conclusion
to your own existence.

I should feel eligible, close to
The means of incredible, even if
I can't read all of the signs of being
illegible; devoured by time, feeling
so edible.

                                                        ­   Their tears are threads tied to a soul,
                                                         Like falling rains – all emotion pours,
                                                    Highs are weighed down by many lows
                                                           And a tongue is as lethal as the gun;
                                                         the gun still lives within these laws
                                                   So permission to shoot a shot; fall in love
                                                 but keeping the charm to impress in-laws.

                                                   Extra bullets for bullet holes,

The heart surely practices having kids
Before having kids; it’s just sad to see, kids
Raising kids – as the family needs don't
really show what, "family," means– just
another short story of familiar griefs.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Cupid’s aim was off, he lost one of his arrows
in the wrong heart he shot; I'd had my fair share –
of these scars painted on my skin; all the best
intentions being lost, while adding value to someone
just to add up the cost of their love…

Cupid’s aim was off, he forgot to wear his glasses
while on the job; giving me extra weight thinking
about my past – all the pain left behind, we all need to
move forward, but I still want to kick Cupid right in
the ****!

By the odds of life; tell me what are the odds
you’ll know the rhythm of a bee’s heartbeat –
And as you skip a stone across the water's surface,
would the river’s heart skip a beat?

know that all of creation are alive too…

I am alive too, as my skin feels beat; self-discipline
is no easy feat – for the flesh is weak, but has the
strength to torment your mind the entire week.

But we are more than skins; capable of beating
the odds, of giving to our skins.

Got ****, got ****, can't  be taking pictures with legends.
**** right, that girl's legs
were out in public with all those curls and those  edges.

Who the hell being trying to cut me down for last coming week,
****, who's probably on my next hit list, trying to waste my energy. **** right I was feeling so weak.
But who's next, I never really got too tired of this,
****, I never shot so high in the air just to go miss.

And ain't life fair when I'm claiming myself to be a nobody else.
****, I only touched that forbidden Candy once, now my *** is getting beat by two thousand belts.

How everybody told me greatest was a long trip, can't I just change the route.
Don't really be the formal type, but I had to play the role and force myself to suit.

****, ****, ****, **** right.

Kiss me under my eye, for a reason for me to want to see you again.

igniting a fire within my soul, making me crave more
of your presence in my life.

Place a mat of your love on my back, to remind
me I need to tidy up my past.
With your unwavering support, I'll know I always have
you, even with the dirt I might bring home
Put a flower in my mouth every time we kiss,
so I can have a last taste of beauty before you go.
Later on we'll have late conversation when my confidence
blooms, at a call to rise;— the flower better be a rose.

Snip a piece of your hair to tie with my belt
buckle, just so I can wear a memory of you,
buckling at the future and all of our perfect heirs.

Cut a collar of my shirt, to have me by the neck.

intimate and possessive,
to symbolize your claim over me.

And if that material wears out, you can wear
my incense instead. Like your sweet perfume that gets
stuck on my neck; digging into my flesh with desire
—I'll be cut throat when it comes to show how you make me feel.

With all feelings involved, I can definitely say
what I'm feeling of those scary words,
"I think I'm falling in love"

Love's ugliness to the roses of sweet,
Claiming you as an only need,
A beast to sweet nothings; it has to feast,
I sprained my ankles; at the too many times love
swept me off my feet.

Violets painted in a colour of violence,
Stealing a heart; by a bandit's right handed
silence,

Patience my love; all of your ends are priceless,
Driving myself into you without the licence,
But there's so many types of love like this.

Love's closed fist; is a punch to a pretty face,
An open hand to follow, but with a chase,
An unruly intention, disguised in grace,
Criticism of another, at times under praise,
A good feeling at times, but at times the good
wants to misbehave.

Still...

It's of beauty; behind a world's cruelty,
Wishing you all the best. Well usually,
Continually chasing a love to fool me,
A nut of sorts; love would ***** me.

Longing for love; when you've felt unloved,
Longing for feelings; never been touched,
Longing for hands; the last been clutched,
Longing for speed; hoping to get that rush,
Darling I must love you too much.

In a valley of stories;
both past & present
days of old; days anew:
In a place I call God-
by different names.

Mwari, Nkulunkulu,
Jehovah, and Lord.

And like God,
I witnessed beauty & glory
And like God,
my mouth spoke of creations
And like God, I said:
                   "this is good"

War fronts;
All of our true selves'
Could gather around-
In arms locked together:

Darling'
You're unguarded of heart.

With an open smile;
Your make-up won't align'
Under it all, you seem so shy:
At the core of it all-
A gnaw at the apple of my eye.

Your tears of agony and joy;
Are the good and the bad'
In this crazy city life:
Found a lip fit, saluting boys.

Does your kiss still bleed;
As you're taking a bite:
Tongue still run errand'
As my breath comes inside?

Skirmished for this love;
And took a shot at it'
Dropping bombs of cursing;
In valley' that became atomic'
Putrid words you and I spoke-
A pool of Blackened *****.

Two sides in constant battle;
Slipping nicely to our fit:
Walking jointly in an open-
(Desert war sandal)

   (War; War; War;)
I continue on clashing at love'
   (War; War; War;)
You've torn through my heart'
   (War; War; War;)
Leaving me in love and apart.

Crack upon my heart,
the feelings inside that box,
Like wearing out the old memories of my baby socks.

Oops I may have forgotten a few,
so surely what would I do,
Still I find a piece of them while I stare in the eyes of you.
Lest they tell me what only is true,
of these growing feelings I have for you.

And my baby socks still have that stain,
of the dirt I stole from the Earth while I played a game,
As I was so young from the days of feeling no shame,
I lived a life with a different name.

But all things had to change once that feeling came,
can't act like a baby anymore when you have a baby that is your dame.
And once they've become your feelings constant, your baby socks have run out of their fame.

So crack upon that box,
if you wishing to see what's in my heart,
And you may find that hiding memory worn out in my baby socks.

Beneath the surface of everything that exists;-
I find myself one breath away from losing my sanity,
and not making another one, until I die. Continuously unsure if
I'll ever create something new before, my time is up;- living by
the inevitable ticking of time's clock.

I've been living on the outskirts, trapped within
the confines of my own mind, constructing dreams of the past
for those who still hold onto hope, hoping that what I do will
be cherished as something unique and irreplaceable, like a rare gem
amidst a sea of ordinary stones. But now, I find myself drowning in
a sea of thoughts, longing for a shore where I can find solace instead
of conforming to the world's constant demands with a forced "sure."

Sometimes, I feel like I exist beyond the boundaries
of this physical realm. I am dedicated to carrying the weight of
everything, as if it all rests solely on my shoulders. I commit myself
to helping others and loving those who have wronged me, without
any limitations.

Yet, I feel trapped by it all, still entangled within
the web of expectations. In the midst of it all, I must remember
that I have to go through this journey to understand why I am here.
I have tasted love, its sweetness fleeting and its bitterness lingering.
I feel somewhat used by this kind of love, but mostly, I am left feeling
confused;-  drained and perplexed, pondering the worth of
entwining myself in a web of a jealousy, masquerading as  
now being a mere companion. I have been betrayed by those
I loved the most, let down by my own family, as if they were
the last people, I expected to break my heart. Feeling the sharp
betrayal of a backstab is a crippling pain, but the anguish intensifies
when you see the perpetrator, carving that very scar.

I am amazed by the immense depth and breadth
of how a few months of disappointments can feel like a
year's worth of pain. I cannot possibly quantify the extent of
this excruciating experience, but I can count every tear shed along
the way. The first half of this year has presented an array of
challenges worthy of a lifetime.

Nevertheless, I remind myself that it is a journey,
that must be taken one day at a time, handling whatever
comes my way. It is difficult to always be happy, but I strive to
find moments that bring a smile to my face, conserving my energy
to heal from the tougher days instead of pretending that
everything is fine.

nature o so quiet and subtle,

these mountains are the only-
to hear a sound of falling trees,
all the winds are the last-
to touch skins of leaves.

nature o so quiet and subtle,

these woods of life, all it's
creatures are your children,
seed pods of their fill,
will hit the grounds and spill.

nature o so quiet and subtle,

these many butterfly kisses,
ladybug tickles, foxes all cunning,
prey all running, birds chirping,
as antlers ears alerting.

nature o so quiet and subtle,

you wear a dress to-
cover all your young,
as the mother of all.