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.

King of the century, well just for this moment of time,
Let me decree this, let me decree that, I want everything in this world to be mine.
Royalty in my blood, just can't find your origin or place,
Searching for my Queen, where are you my darling, where's your beautiful face.
Where's my castle with all my golden bricks,
Probably all behind my mind with capital tricks.

Where's my golden cup with wine from an older age,
Tasting much like time itself with no definite range.
Where are all my people to hear my voice,
Don't listen to a earthly King's ******* even if he hasn't given you the choice.
Where are all my Knights and Royal guards defending my keep,
Where's my land with my cattle and sheep, and my river with waters so deep?

King of an empty world with mass to fill my mind,
King of a land that never existed and so hard to find.
But I'm the King of the  moment when time can be my own,
Holding time itself all till it disappears at Dawn....
King, King, King, let me enjoy it now when it's all still here,
Because I will awaken once more to another day, so my dream I had with the worth of myrrh .
Could make me King, King, King of my own land,
With all I would have and have not and finally the things I never planned....

To fall in love, I sense no perfect hour,  
Yet breaking hearts can feel like a shower.  
When love stops it’s rain- to fade,  
It's a painful cascade,  
Leaving sorrow where once bloomed a flower.

There are two kinds of creatures in this life;

the most attractive creature, is a man mindful of your feelings:
considerate of your emotions, making you feel truly valued,
and respected— who listens attentively to your thoughts,
and concerns but also responds with genuine care, and
understanding.

And the dumbest creature, is a man who instead thinks
with his second brain: not much thought needed there.

Heart beats like a drum,
  (no I'm not in love)
Just echoing the rhythm of my soul
   A tune so loud.

flowing as smooth skin, pimple pebbles in between;
the break out of my skin – still I flow freely as I am,
while my tears weigh heavy on the bank’s sand…

still, I’m glad to know how much you enjoy me tickling
in between your toes – wash off the struggles of your heart,
but please don’t use it as an excuse to leave your *******
inside of me

          you found me as a clear river,
   and I've always known where I'm going
                                    let me live a clear life.

When we cease to understand the world,
fighting against it on our own.
Caught in between two sides of life,
but really just being torn.

The many tears that pour,
the flooded tears of lost ideas.
Lacking funds to fundraise my plans,
living in constant battle with poverty.
The war of the poor.

The employees,
of a Man who won't pay full labours.
But for the sake of the little
we make for our family.
How could we not do the work, as we utter,
"Yes sir".

In memory of memory,
I soon realize I've worked plenty for empty.
Do my best to set a foundation
for my future family.
I'd much prefer change,
even it was a thought for a penny.
To feel less of the world against me.

Suffocating beneath a tidal wave of feelings —
struggling to stay afloat, gasping for breath.

My lungs are heavy filled with so much water;
I may swallow my pride — but I can't hold
these tears anymore in my chest.

Beautiful ugly reflection –
slipping into the depths of your heartbreak;
Do you still tally your breaths – gasping for air!
At times, we drift so far from the warmth of home,
a cosmic wonder; yet the cosmos cradles the remnants
of extinguished stars.

Would you light a cigarette – to mask the fierce truths
of your spirit; those weary hands still possess a gentle
caress.

A handshake fraught with shaky bonds – bond to your
insecurities; anchoring you in a realm of perpetual self-doubt.

                   You are worth infinitely more, my mirrored self.

Yours: were those repetitions of actions; underneath the comment of
her starry eyes, waiting to add an explanation of my place as her caption.
We both explore the aftereffects of years of catching onto one another—as the successful hunt shows pleasant results; while the longer course of it comes with many love scars… but along the way, I heard the spinning tales of your story by the roundabouts. All the places you had been, shouldn’t have been, and a lot of questions about your whereabouts. Whereas the hoodlums turf their side from the thugs, and I make a territory between us, to avoid long hugs- a criminal kind of love

We both know the boys who keep a contact list of girls to pick out from, as like commodities well kept: she knows a message well sent, as the night gives the best of time for us to act like our true selves

Let’s not jump into so many conclusions as if leaping into big decisions; as our memories are well kept in sky, but at times we seem confined by these crying ceilings. For a worthwhile love, we live to find a means of making a quick buck, copying that success and sitting back while the currency prints- there’s nothing wrong with such money-making schemes; unless it gives others the idea of buying into dreams. And unfortunately, we both quietly know what that means



Sort of met by carnivorous eyes- feeding desires
into one another; a few lives cut short to the unsettling sound
by an incomplete strung of a chord. Rebellious young ones
sneaking out to the clubs, later on tamed at home; there’s
such a thirst for our wrongs when we’re perfectly alone—
but as you miss someone as much as a faithful faster
misses lunch, even a clone of them wouldn’t do you much…

Breakups do cause ill actions; “you said you’re not sick
of me,” but I subtly taste a bit of ***** in these latter kisses
—let’s talk to unlock our deepest feelings; dialogue is
key. The end of her blush is the brightest of spots, but is
a sign to end a conversation with an abrupt full stop
“Fool, stop,” her forced smile must annoyingly be saying

Those face masquerades must be working hard today;
without sounds of cries- pretending we enjoy telling
each other, “yeah, we’re fine,” or was it the rephrasing of it,
to admit to ourselves that this love has always felt like a fine

My heart is ensnared by the way the light dances
in your eyes, a mesmerizing spectacle that nourishes
my very soul, you're my radiant source of vitamin D
As I lent you my tank top, my thoughts were tangled
in a web of our silence, as we shared a kiss that lingered
long, leaving both social tanks on E.

Your lips remain sealed, yet they whisper of fervent
dreams, each smile a fleeting glimpse into your passion
The career you envision unfolds like a cinematic masterpiece,
with you at the helm, boldly declaring, “Action!”

As my admiration for your curves surely deepens,
your unwavering positivity are all these straight lines;
unyielding, resolute, and always moving forward
Your essence is akin to a pen, sharp and purposeful,
having a point to make, making it so easy for me to
spell it out to you;  U R truly Gorgeous.

Harsh are these words, but what great Truth doesn’t hurt a little:
the promises of people today, will only be the hurt for you tomorrow,
the debt that people owe you, is often paid by the words of a forgotten
promise; even for all the love you hope to give out- its only by
a wishful wish, that you’ll get your fare share back,

There’s a note to take of the friends that will let down you,
those family members who will discard you, all the people who
will critic you, the love of past lovers that will break you, the words
that make you a victim, said from those who want to play bigger victims;
the good you so desperately try to do, to get so much bad in return,

To those you put all of your trust in, some can be trusted to
hurt and wound you, the sun will be your spotlight on top your fears,
the moon will cry with you in silence, the bath water will account for
all your tears, the snakes will sing you praises with a jagged smile,
life will chastise you; hope will forget you sometimes, time will question
you each day, age will starve you of youth, the living will grow intolerant
during your time of mourning, as death will forever remain patient for you…

                                                          These are but just life’s great Truths.

her style is cold figure
kisses that are a heat seeker –
we lock eyes and I’m so eager
     our passion is equal, though I’m

divided

between which parts of her I love the most
"your soul is what holds it all"
in every action she does; smell, taste, sight,
sound or touch –
                   I hear her soul’s call.

Coded messages, inscribed by the scars on my skin
Aspects of a secluded heart; as the line of tears, maps
Out the journey to a long sense of finding due healing

As the border between maturity and old youth, in a new attire;
Once the public uniform of coming in your, “Sunday best,”
Disguising all the vile of yourself- as we fashion ourselves to
Look like the most likable person; the scrap pieces of dripping water
From prior baptisms- as some of the sovereign believers are uncouth
To their God, wearing the many false skins, hunted in wickedness-
Their very own diplomacy of delighted barbarism  

Separate all of your self-gratifying creeds, and agreed to
Worship in love, pray together; coming as you are- as we are
All knitted together by familiar troubles, hurts, griefs, uproars-
To raise our voices, bringing life to this new body.

You're a ship and I'm a wreck-
Our love met a titanic end
Still, we'd sail around the terms
Of being close mates

Too see you again;
You can still claim a spot
By the window seat of my heart,
Gazing straight into my soul.

All the fixation of a fictional mind
Seen as the scene playing on my pride

Makes of a fool, full on their stomach butterflies
Caught by love, in nets of its scent passing by

Buy into dreams; if to only afford imagination
Thinking of those you love and to lose concentration

Concerns of connecting factors, factoring in time
A factory of my heart, trying to work out how you'll be mine

Mind were you dig in my many deep thoughts
Thwarting me—I am a haunting manifesto of public courts

Courtship of an engaging conversation I'd always keep
Lost are words to a chest's heart; of love being the key

Keen on the grin, grinding a motive to work up a nerve
Nervous, shy man—can't speak up on public's street curve

And so bent out of shape, to express this final say
That despite of upbringing, we're up to falling in love some day

(A) bit of words I live by.

(B) aware of what you (C)
Nowadays you're so close to meeting a trage(D)

Don't waste too much of your good energy. And don't let that gauge get to (E)
Give more (F)fort to those you love. But don't
go around donating what's in your (G)eans.

Wisdom isn't determined by your (H)
(I) learnt that recently.

Many will self title you from the front like a (J)-card. But it's o(K).
We look at them like, "oh wel(L)"

(M)any  are slave to their mistakes,
meaning we're our own worst (N)emy.

(O)ways know where you came from,
before you head out into the world. Everyone has their o(P)inions. Not every one will be for you, still at least say thank (Q)

(R) we not people of great value? Ye(S)
We seem to have come from nothing, but given time we're all some(T)in.

(U) know who you are. (V)ision yourself a better person by each day. Don't live with  (W) standards.

(X)periences, make us who we are.  (Y) worry about the past, when you have the present.

Life will always be hard, but the rewards are more fulfilling, compared to life being e (Z)

A date out with the stars
my romance is a bit outdated
leisurely play, too relaxed to find love
Soundly calm moon whispers
tickle the ears of someone feeling blue
a sea of ten thousand tears over you

I've cried, and cried, weeping the whipping
of lashing out feelings. Not many take me serious,
not being a lover's hero

                ....for you, I am your pain's anti-villain

You dig a hole deeper than what gravity can hold down;
put your phone down – making those comments just to
ring the crowd up.

You’ll never fly any higher than an ostrich; but you play
their popular myth, when you bury your head in the dirt –
to cover up your face, with false scales of makeup making
up your worth.

Maybe as I missed the translation of when someone says,
“bed” to the word bird – to believe you rest in the nest
of your fears; never to leave that habitat, to soar above
the world.

Seems a habit not to face your fears –
sitting on your wings!

i feel ashamed, i feel ashamed, i ashamed
i'm on a prayer to prevail
taking shots of successes inside of a small gun range

russian roulette; cussing out in an attest
testifying those sins—i need to repent,
i need to repent, i need to repent
i've got a bad rep representing my ill intent

so sick of life, seeking meaning on people
pleasing. so was it a miss for me—misleading peers
to co-sign my fears
it's a signature significant, in a miniature magnificent
but strangely the one to always feel so insignificant

among the rules of what it means to be men
as non momentary cowardice, to the pre end
lying constant, lying on a deathbed to admit to
my pretend

the imaginary calamity of believing you're a
hope for humanity. your goal is only to provide
for your family; sadly on the madly in love undertone
keeping well the colours of a lover's rose
treat them well as yours. let sinking kisses rest under
pores

pouring out your heart; poor are those buying
out to pay for love

you should feel ashamed, you should feel ashamed,
you should feel ashamed—as I once was ashamed

In the grand spell of words, let me etch this sentiment into your heart –
I find myself so tired, like a Toyota limping along with a missing hubcap.
My carpet smile, never held the weight it should have; you revelled in
The tickle of my beard as our lips met. Yet, as soon as we grew distant,
I shaved it away, a symbol of our fading connection, a relic of this
Relationship becoming one of long distance.

Typing my feelings onto the screen, though the true message of them
Weren’t delivered so well, failing to convey the depth of my despair.
I began to loathe myself, believing that the love I once held for you
Was a tether, leading you on to lead you astray. “I’m sorry,” I whisper,
But deep down, I always knew you were destined for someone far
Greater than I could ever be, or at the very least, someone who would
See you as the answer to their most fervent prayers.

I guess you weren't the answer to my prayers...

Feeling a taste of bliss, a heart fluttered
With anticipation in that fleeting moment
Just before our lips met in a tender kiss.

In muted shades of grey, a smile that had
Once lit up your face seemed to fade away,
Almost as though the vibrant taste of you
Wouldn’t taste the same- we’re never the same

As we met, searching for the worth of love –
This love of ours, a love that came with change.

We were laughing miles away from the corner
Of real love, but it was long distance relationship
For you and I; I can only love you from a corner.

Pictures with strangers, perhaps with the fame

I haven’t been the same; unrecognizable even with
all these fans screaming my name

There’s always a price to entertain

I entered into a much louder desperation out of my
old depression's gate. But still lying about feeling great

Still I’m among all of the greats; those who've tasted fame

Anyways, one lick of it made me sick— thick legs always
any easy pick, but I never thought I’d call someone a *****

It’s quite rich, like I am; still with his poor tastes

All these make-ups on a face; making up for your pain
make up ***, made up ideas from sexting texts

It felt a given, it would all take away my innocence

Feeling caught always in the thrill of them cheering my
brilliance; masking how it kills my feelings

To now feeling more worried about my appealing

“How’s my appearance,” factoring those experiences
would they still take me less than serious

Sort of shook hands with the president

Still preferred the picture; not being in a picture with him,
looking like I live on his immoral morals like a resident

Paranoid paradise: so relaxed on being anxious

The camera flashes always judge my actions,
calling me old fashioned. Not fashioned in those factions

Overthinking what to put under my caption

Capture a moment, but the camera lens is the only forever
lasting smile; soon I’ll be turning into Mr Passive

Still I had a passion, beforehand

Fame served me a lot to handle in a forehand, nobody
understands the grip of fame in Hollywood’s tight hand

Serving you free chicken

*******, and thighs— Bets and thongs, a high supply
of different women. Swallowing their pride and your children

A million dollar tub, but still feeling filthy

“Oh really, you think you can have your soul back,”
the devil now outside, once only one within me

I made a deal to die at fifty

Knowing the fame won’t last me that long, feeding myself
to an empty richness. So **** greedy!

But hey, I guess I made it

What would have been the chances; still if only I had
waited a little longer for God’s right answers.

But hey mama, I’m famous...

These moving feet always stay hungry
For the steps on finding perfect dreams
Pestering about love again – it really bugs me.
How it usually goes for us, in this love story
Asking myself, “would you really tell me his story,”
Quietly knowing, “you two still share some history?”

Yes, your eyes are both the windows to your soul —
But their curtains are occasionally & forcefully closed
The story of every man, wanting to find that treasure,
Of their favourite girl's heart; marking it with an X,
And they all quietly hope, to closely hear her say,
"Hey, you're so much better than my ex.”
Asking myself, “what love of man, is surely king,”
Cause being that it's all ruled from a wicked heart –
It can take a week to fall in love, but it unfortunately
Takes a lot of us weeks to fully heal from a broken heart.

Love can become so foreign to someone,
Unfamiliar to the tastes of a good French kiss
"What's your love language," we first have to ask;
Body language can differ from what comes out of your lips.
As even a betrayer knows when to give the right kiss…

Words… are lost by touch; perhaps I am talking too much… that
much is clear – a tongue testing its own fortune. The moment I beheld
your visage, a weight settled upon my skin, while the fragrance of
your skin dug tremors through my heart – a quiver igniting up to the
nerves at my fingertips. Our hands met with a less than firm embrace – yet deep down, I yearned for a hug, to ascend the staircase of your
neck and find sanctuary in the chamber of your lips.

Like a swarm of bees drawn to a blossom, seeking the sweet nectar of
connection – our fleeting moments together ignited thoughts of
seizing the flower of time, “she’ll love me, she loves me now,” believing it’s merely a matter of time.

I hear you summon my name; it resonates like a hymn of adoration –
your celestial presence beckoning me into the realm of your words.
And so, we embark once more, at the crossroads of language where I
find myself either bereft of expression or talking too much … you
know what, let’s abandon the chatter and kiss instead, for our hearts
speak a language far more profound. I’ve been overthinking too much.

Forest dreams, dreaming life green,
It's my own sight of life if you know what I mean.

Seeing life in the good parts of a movie scene.
Blanketing my heart like a forest of the earth. Or was that just a dream.

In a Forest parking my heart under the shade,
What's the occasion for, you ask.
Hiding in the forest when I'm afraid.
History repeating itself, but I chose not to live in the past.

It's a Forest I know, a place I choose to hide.
For really it's where I go to leave all bad things behind.

Just

Don't be the fool
To think of me a tool
Building from my Forest's trees to make me a stool
That idea you think isn't too cool.

Just

Come with me to my forest of dreams.
Dreamy Forest, dipping my cold feet in the Forest's warm streams

Tell me, what it's like finding love – one as easy as finding your
place in the world. “No wait… that’s a terrible analogy.”

Okay tell me, is there such an easy love to find, like attending
an event that came with an open invite? I quietly watch everyone
dancing in the crowd of love. Right now, I don’t know much
about the steps; could we may-be slow dance? “Uhm… I mean
take it slow!”

Sorry, that came out so wrong – and we know for my week heart;
that’s a bit too strong. “Oh snap, I spelt weak wrong.” Maybe its
because the last time I saw you in person, it was a week ago.
“****, it feels that long!”

Anyways, the words in my mouth, clears my throat; though the
sickness still sticks… love? Could we be like two love birds;
just because of this flu. “Okay, that’s a corny bar!”  
“Are your hands sweaty – no?”

It’s a family thing; having sweaty palms. But I promise you,
I’m not secretly falling in love. “We’re friends right?”
  
                                  the many thoughts that plague his nights.

Death in a room
his eyes are blackened tomb
everything ends dark, as it began in the womb
Born out of a wound
sewn by the desires of still having youth
But how long do we have, the many breaths
till death's stench—our time is so few

Dire hours; heaven's closest bird to their gates
rising to her, the same straits angels fell
The sight of which, burns all of my face
Earth was just a light version of hell, sometimes
as with tiny little devils in your head, exploiting
your days

Dearly disturbed—don't wake him up too soon
he's just resting his eyes, from seeing another
distaste for life. Wipe away his tears with a pillow
that soaks all his cries. Let him slip away into a
day's night

Doses of depression, he's on the drug of sadness
wrapped in linen—leaning on the leisure of
a moment's death. Given time to be called by
value. Soon after he rises.

             The sad Lazarus.

The sound of love
how to explain: children in a playground
rhythmic play, heart skips a beat
screaming yay; nay to hopelessness of
breaking a heart again

Chase
chasing hands, gripping tag to touch
I've labelled myself a fool, only could
love sound so cliche as a fool in love

Death is not a silent affair; the sobs of the living resonate above my
coffin. I ponder the manner of my demise, never the timing, for each
of our ends have their set dates. Is that the reason why we bring
flowers to the grave, to compliment the date?

When we close our eyes at night, I know a piece of us dies, as a
fragment of our essence fades, dreaming to survive into tomorrow.
Perhaps those who choose suicide are merely those who forget to
wake up again—lost and still trapped in the darkness, searching for
the light, yet some remain forever in the dark.

Death is not a silent affair; anyone's sudden death brings the sound
of tears.

| The weird, wonderful and I
   lost in a wash of dreams—or was it
    just my tears? I fell in love in your glaring eyes
  Omission, and my hiatus from personal friends
    bad omens about bad luck
  You were just a chum I'd hate to meet,
   with all of my charm and ice cream bucks
    a lick of paint white to coat our insecurities

I'll admit all the ones I love all just bully me-never picked
on by jealousy, but just the people who love to test me
I never had the time to state the plans; but I would
mark my territory in all your memories land
Honest; I'd light the passion we both shared again
if I worked more on my pyrokinesis powers
My heart stays warm over you, I just pray you don't end
up bullying me too

| I swear it doesn't feel like my first time
   practicing with myself probably last night
  But I'm going to be shy; wrapping it tight to the fit
   still without a ****** for my heart—I'm going
     to be love sick. Our sheets are going to be ******
  And I still hope by that time we both are too

We could have a good time, and not feel so pressured cos
we're both so shy. I can't always be this romantic guy
Let's both stay connected; as long as we don't change
our heart's codes to the WiFi
Just a little private time after pillow talk in this chat room
bury my past lovers in a present's future tomb

...let's shoot for love, and fall for each other like shooting stars

the silence of your shadow is louder when you don’t watch it –
as the memory of someone in your mind, is just a fictional
character of them. this life: walking on the thin lines of what the
eyes have seen; the unseen waits for us at the great beyond.

the narrative of love still waits on loads of blank spaces –
empty smiles towards pretty faces. but until we find the one
that helps us smile in true depth, the ones we meet are truly
just strangers in the end.

and the days love to dash in sands of time – for no one really
has all the time in the world to live out a thousand lifetimes.
still, we’ve lived a thousand experiences of a thousand lives
in this one life. living as bodies, connected by familiar tears,
stranded or motivated by fears, the highs given by the touch
of two skins, we live as bodies, die from our bodies and will
live on as spirits in the end.

                                   and to that end, the end of this poem.

Sleep is an endless journey,
only the dead can complete
Time is the fortune you can never
afford to have enough of
Love is the tie dye of the different
worn out emotions, of the shirt you say
Faith is the picture frame of the
final art piece, you hope will be portrayed
And sin is the spilled ink on a paper;
the more you try to wipe off yourself, the more
stains you're still left to see.

We live for any few more seconds of sleep,
constantly on this life's limited time to do it all
Trying to have a consistent abstract pattern  of our love
always picturing what our faith can paint in the end
Yet we are all stained by our born sin,
                    -we are truly humans till the end.

All are born to shine; I tread the earth with grace
Feeling the weight of sorrows, as life does trace  
In her embrace, I find both pieces of pain & care
Her silent whispers, weave a cloak, one so rare

As the walls, like rivers, tell of the shifts inside
An echoing pulse where my true self does bide
An unseen force tugs at my heart's deeper seam
In the soft, dark tear, I find all fears in a dream

A tempest stirs within my soul, a voice confined
Yearning to escape, to maybe soar, to be defined
Through trials faced, I’ve brushed away the grime
Preserving my spirit, as if its untouched by time.

Love has been,

a peanut butter & jelly
love sandwich;

I went on to spread,

my heart & emotions
one side,
my mind & thoughts
on the other side;

And of course,

I was the one caught
in between it all.

Cheaters smile the loudest, their lies are the sweetest, their misdeeds
are the quietest – lest it be the ones who get caught. Cheaters play
victim the proudest, their excuses are the longest, their faithfulness is
the shortest – they promise to change, but its short-change.

Cheaters can be the secret sexter; the guys with mistresses, the girls
with a current boyfriend, ready to reply to the other guy with a,
“yes sir,” then introducing them to you as just their friend.

Cheaters love to receive their flowers; being ready to sprout out
looking for more; so rich in wanting more from you – while their
attitude is so poor.

You can pour out your heart to a girl, just for her to spill tea with an
ex; you can listen to a guy pour out his love for you; while he's
hoping his glass of affections, earns him a night of ***.

And unfortunately as you make a deposit of your heart, waiting for
love to withdraw – others bank on the interest of seeing, you without
draws. Heavy is the crown of their ill thoughts; heavy are the lies
waiting in their jaws.

Cheaters happen to be those you thought you had known!

I “borrowed,”
a customer’s purple shirt
“okay, I stole that shirt”

It looked too good,
with an ironic phrase in white words

“dreams do come true”

Do I feel guilty
about “borrowing,” that purple shirt

“I don’t really know”

But I’ll let you know
later on tomorrow, as I’ve hung it out
with an outfit, ready to go to church.

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

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

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

Even on this long road of thoughts; some days I don’t know my way
with words – as to describe your face; it just drives me so insane.
“You’re so pretty,” feels a bit too plain; so it always bears down on
me, this pressure. A rock in a hard place, and I’m also being pressed
with stones, biting on my words, that I bruised my lip. Slowly sinking
deeper, and letting blood flow – being so afraid of your reflection of
me, staring back from your eyes, as my tears dance along a running
stream. How you’ve become this silhouette of a perfect dream.

But I'm not as deep as I seem to be; just like swimming in a pool, I
first need to find my feet. And I’m only a pebble against your skin;
trying to skip across our conversations, and finding a reason to kiss.
But instead, I'm laughing in the bathroom mirror, letting the echoes
of that room wash me clean. And it would seem in vain to say I
fell in love with you – even as I wear your smile under my skin.

So I quietly let those very six words find their rest, and go back to
my bed, and sleep – cause who the hell really feels the depth of
those words, over a late-night text?

Never too wise to stay up late, with the opposite friend.

Tell me,
do you think about me  now, and then;
Do you think up the version of me from  
now, or then— either as a noun, or just  
as an afterwards friend?

This story felt pointless, it's so obsolete,
Some pages were missing at the corners, it was just so incomplete.
I smile for a moment till I lose myself,
Been counting foreign dollars, to add a little more worth to my wealth.

They told me all wishes only came from an old lamp,
They told me all dream worths were all wet and so damp.

Darling I felt broke, I never had richness to own.
Just poor me a shot now, I'll go drink all alone.
Light up a dull pipe, with tobacco  to **** the empty atmosphere.
Blow up some puff clouds, try to blow all my problems till they all disappear.

Live young to finally at the end of time. **** how I'll get so old.
Cough out one last breath on this earth, I paid my problems to be sold

May you echo
smiles of love,
to brighten days
of others.

Love all,
be kind
let go,
move forward.

Let your dreams
be like the
mountain tops.

As we don't
hide behind clouds
we show ourselves
for them to know,
                  who we are.

To a starving child
would you offer food for thought
To a mute
would you offer a caring word
To a quadriplegic
would you offer a step ahead
To an insomniac
would you offer them a bed
To a shadow
would you offer it shade in the summer
To a drum
would you offer a beat for unnecessary drama

But no on a serious note; we're offering things
often to force ourselves in offing our heads/
—overthinking a gesture, is as good as to pretend

Playing your mind in chess,
a game of war that none can escape the draft
We're checkers until we're being examined for our past
Imploding cringey memories; a grenade for a present/
all the gifts beforehand a thought's delivery; all pre sent

Pretty less, on feeling less after the care I get
sort of a mind set to care less, seeming careless
on revaluating any of my regrets:
Hurricanes for past events, destroyed by past missteps
...tell me what's next, and what to expect?

Offer me a starving child,
and I'll feed them well in help,
and knowledge to never starve again
Offer me a mute,
and I'll voice their pain in an echo,
that simple words can't explain
Offer me a quadriplegic,
and I'll take the steps to help them
stand proudly on their outstanding worth
Offer me an insomniac
and I won't rest until they find a lost comfort
of all their dreams, spoken on with ill words
Offer me a shadow
and I'll shed light on the dark corners
of not only myself, but those lost in darkness
Offer me a drum
and I won't beat around the bush, on
making a load roar of one's injustice

                 ...these, these are all my world offerings

Programmed ideas, words begin to echo AI — quiet intelligent;
in a realm where outsmarting will take you out; once you
outshine those above you; you define the term of being so Anti.

Anti the world, where courage is deemed too bold — keep those
ideas to yourself, shave off the top – be bald. Even as you try to
say things so daring, that if feels like a bold choice; speaking your
mind won't be so clear without an influential voice.

Your existence seems tangled and wild; so out of order —I question
if a miracle isn’t served, would I question an angel for missing
the order. And if to not adhere to good people's orders, this very
breathing would feel like a crime — every moment caught up in
life would just be a show of Law and order.

But I doubt you’d excuse my aura for being so out of order –
we often craft justifications to the world’s chaos, as a service
to uphold a semblance of some order.

Acrimonious ******; oh, to such a wanted piece of thought, falling carelessly as a leaf blown in a sceptical kind of winds, and with their goal of rattling me. The present fortunes present themselves as a mystery unsolved, the many spasms in a day, constricted by the extravagance of wanting to be heard; but the audience is so uninvolved

As I sometimes misplace my identity in my own words- as when I misplace worries into the formula of my concerns. The lessor faith in words, frames on the highest platform; in the endless echoes of a writer’s afterlife- where their once idolized muses, are blessed enough to be seen as something appreciated as gods- a Poetic pantheon

Creativity is like two gloved hands, that choke out the reader’s eyes,
suffocating them to see new found knowledge, in the loss of consciousness. As the stage is set; upon the tears of the world, being the opening curtains to such an encore performance; an audience made up of eyes hungry for more. The author’s responsibility to provide to them all,
a due course of sustainable food for thought. As the world feeds the writer the vilest of things, to in turn create something ameliorates in place of it.

why is the voice of all
my disappointments;
louder than the cheers of all
my success;
and why I do I have to constantly
search for happiness,
yet easily be found depressed?

You know what they say about men with big feet –
“the socks don’t fit so easily on the first try”
And by the series of events, the more you get to
know someone; the easier it is to relax together –
"Netflix and chill"

But a job not done so well has an obvious result –
“hit it, and quit it”
A few men put up so well with a woman’s
whole bag of *******; lets just blame –
“that good junk in the trunk”

Find someone to rest your worries on –
“some good pillow talk”
Have a kick out of extracurricular activities –
“with an *** to boot, in your boot knocking”

Still stand on your standards, but avoid living
on double standards – not everything works
so well with their – “double meanings”

Sticks and stones to break your bones
Stick your nose in being too nosey,
and you may end up with a ****** nose

Manicure the landscapes of my gaze – a far-off forest whispers
sweet nothings before a lover fades into memory – growing
weary; the taste turns bitter, like rising *****. Lingering sweetness;
the flavour of honey clings to my lips, a hive buzzing with our
fantasies woven in dreams – yet this imagination comes tethered
to a swarm of bees.

A television muse; she’s a show looping in my thoughts,
preying on my moments, I’m praying pretending to be
faithful, my hands are little more faithful than I was to you,
never keeping you in focus.

We must have believed we were creases, yearning to love
beyond the inevitable wrinkles – beautiful, flawed beings;
yet even a beast knows it must seek another to thrive.

How humans are so vile.

Brain explosion, pop like a balloon bloated up by the heat of a long summer,
None violent tendencies with such ****** hands, can I still call myself a non harmer?
Cuts and bruises beneath the skin of my feet, for walking long days on short miles.
Copies of programs, settings and ideas stored up in a brain in a number of files.

Explode.

A dead man would tell no lies yet keep a thousand secrets.
A new hope would be born in a small corner but built up of a thousand pieces.

Explode.

Day's of old times amongst these young people of these simular days.
Stacking up all that is the past in bales of hay.
Today is a Tuesday and tomorrow shall be another new day,
And the days before that came before moved on really fast and not always here to stay.

Explode.

The house in my brain has expanded by an explosion of the love and rage.
Could this be a new chapter in this story,  a turn over of a new page?
I  used to hang around with people with square faces while we were playing circle games.
I hung with new strangers with old family names.

Explode.

Smoke clears the air while the air is still bleeding.
Not too sure of where I'm going yet  I'm still believing.
Today was once my yesterday but I'm touching on tomorrow.
I have too much love in my mind, would any of you like to borrow.

Explode, now  my mind is  blown to many former pieces, come breathe in this brand new,
Now looking up to a Heaven, they know what is I ment next to do.