All the purple flowers I've
seen, sort of relate to purple eyes
Cos my vision was obscene,
obscure, insecure, and vaguely pure

Still I had seen a pretty flower,
a flower that pretty much stole my
words. She had a bite to her:

  So till death do me part, to have and to hold
this pretty flower, pretty much came with thorns

Purple flower—
lonesome afterimage;
a fighter with a purple eye.

Sky's falling,
could you catch all the pieces?
Loads will fall,
but don't burden yourself with
Life's overload.

Even with knees shaking,
taking the weight of the world
Don't force it on yourself
to have your back breaking
Troubles always seem to follow
as you're heading in the right direction
On the other hand of it,
all that follows is left behind
Troubles won't be with us at the destination.

Take it like a train,
on this long railway of life
Learning to train your mind
on every piece of knowledge we gain
In a route of life
not always custom to follow a line.

Things go along in curves,
don't be hell bent to force them to go straight
The journey of it isn't as easy
walking out of it through a wide gate
Still you should walk into
things you worked for to deserve.

So when all seems
to be falling in pieces
Remember,
many pieces built-up your worth
Live it out without any a cost,
perhaps to all it could be purpose.

Oh, please tell me why I still care for the side of you that always
lets me down – my mind becomes your fence, picking at all of my
thoughts – each one a slat in a picket fence to surround your own
insecurities.

Tell me what lights are coming on, to keeping on pretending that
love still turns you on; have you truly spent the nights restlessly
trying to fall asleep in a **** pose, draped in nothing but a pyjama
thong?

You shed your clothes more readily than your skins, that could
unveil the core of your true self –  “this time, I am changing,” you
proclaim, yet what truly changes if you harbour such shame for
the loose parts of yourself, tell me what’s the point of looking for
change, if you don't want to fully change?

honeycomb lips,
swarms of bees on your tongue,
hives on your heart,
a Queen bee is your soul.

buzzing, buzzing, buzzing,

all in my ears,
now a taste of my tears,
straight after I got stung.

buzzing, buzzing, buzzing,

there she goes,
only protecting her sweet,
nectar is her love,
but I found myself allergic to bees.

buzzing, buzzing, buzzing.

Black as an even fair, beautifully paid by the sun's kisses,
I marvel at the mesmerizing tone of your dark skin, akin to
a painting brought to life.

The way the sunlight caresses your complexion reveals a
radiance that is ethereal, as if the heavens themselves have
blessed you with their touch. It is as if the universe conspired
to create a masterpiece, blending the stark contrast of night and
day, merging darkness and light into a harmonious symphony
of beauty.

As the evening sun graces you with its warm embrace, casting
a gentle glow upon your features, it illuminates the hidden
depths within you. Within the lovely twirls of your hair, I see
a multitude of joyous moments interlaced, each strand a testament
to the ebbs and flows of life.

They seem to dance and twinkle, reflecting the light of
your spirit and the resilience that carries you forward.
It is in these majestic tresses that I find solace, a sanctuary where
dreams and aspirations intertwine, creating a symphony of desires.

I swear, with the utmost sincerity and conviction, by the
promises I make to myself and to you, that I shall forever long
for something as rare and precious as you are. Like a cherished
gem, hidden amidst the depths of our motherland's embrace,
you represent the culmination of generations of strength and
resilience. You are the embodiment of the legacy of our ancestors,
who fought tirelessly to reclaim their voices and redefine their existence.
By cherishing you, I honor their sacrifices, carrying their stories
and their bravery within my heart.

The tenderness and care that reside within the depths of my being
compel me to cherish and nurture you with every breath I take.
Your presence evokes a sense of awe and wonder, for you are an extraordinary creation, a queen among queens.
Your regality shines forth in every interaction, radiating grace
and dignity. In my devotion to you, I find purpose and meaning,
a profound connection that transcends time and space.

Loving a black queen runs deep within my soul, permeating
every aspect of my being. It is a love that defies boundaries
and conventions, embracing the fullness of who you are.
In loving a black queen, I celebrate not only the physical beauty
that graces your form but also the strength that flows through
your veins. It is a love that embraces the complexities and
intricacies of your journey, appreciating the layers that
shape your identity.

Together, we create a tapestry of love and understanding,
woven with threads of compassion and resilience.
And in this love, we find the infinite possibilities that lie
within our unity.

Do I even know myself,
asks the joke
Really does a joke know
it's a joke
In the reality of life.
Or will it just laugh it off,
wondering if they're laughing at or with them.

I can't help the way I feel when I’m searching for love in your
eyes –I am powerless against the tide of emotions that swell
within me, staring at the warmth of love reflected in your gaze.

Speak to me, dear heart- do you not feel the same electric pulse
that ignites when our spirits intertwine? I am at a loss for words to
convey the tempest of anguish that rages within; will you kindle
the flames of our connection, transforming mere embers into a
blazing fire?

For when you whisper, "I love you," it seems to exist only in the
realm of my dreams. Am I too desperate, too lost in my own
fantasies? Would you truly love me? Is this mere infatuation, or
could it blossom into something profound?

                      Oh, how I hate these relentless inquiries about love.

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

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

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

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

Stay driven in life,
and watch out for potholes
Play your role in life,
make sure there aren't any plot holes
Reach your targets in life,
and know where to aim your goals.

As I lay my head upon your tender cheeks,
they become my comforting cushions,
cradling my mind as I drift into sleep.

The melodies of soothing lullabies
resonate deeply within my weary eyes,
carrying me into the promise of a new day.
In the intimate embrace between us,
a damp and intimate space, I find myself
irresistibly drawn to the alluring scent of your essence.

It beckons me, enticing me
to lose myself in the depths of your gaze,
to become completely consumed by the beauty
that lies within you.

As talk is always cheap,
even with the most expensive words
And I could never sum up enough of the
words, to tell you all of your worth.

                So sort of speak, let's just quietly cuddle.

Feels like a Friday in between the sheets
catch a thrill with a dose of sleeping pills;
I took too much that it was all a dream
And I'd be so annoyed if you ever called me boo,
I'd ghost you in a second, and haunt you with despair,
to feel wet and thirsty as a bottle of water by the side of your bed
As I play unique to love, but true love is quite rare!

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.

the chitter chatter,
of the day,

are conversations of-
sun and rain,

that greeted the ground of,
this splendid rainy day.

Filled in a glass of fancy
rising occasion rising to the skies
A glass of wine
smooth & etiquette, a maturity of fine.

Raise a glass to Heavens above
clearing my throat to make a speech
Gather around all to hear of my preach

A lot of the life you had gave
wasn't all but your own hand
Life is saved, but not to be spent out later

So don't let the greatest thing you've said
only be layed out onto the world while
you're laying on death's bed.

You let only be seen
of your every good deed
But turn it over by acting so mean.

Why though, is such a thing?

Learn to stop playing pretend
it's only an act of cowardice
Leaving a bad example to the descendants
wondering what a true hero is.

Your best example should be early told
stop waiting on young age
to do something for yourself
Age will always be a number,
but we all grow old.

Life feels almost like a test
exercise your rights in being you
And the result is finding much needed rest.

You'll pray on your feet
fall sometimes, but stand again
Still there's worth in all of these things
we go through our weaknesses but emerge
afterwards as stronger human beings.

So raise a glass to that & make a cheers

"To be, or not to be" (William Shakespeare from Hamlet)
As it's been asked. I question the choice to choose or
Not to choose, in the fitting affairs of what would
You do in someone else's shoes (Walking their mile)

Place yourself in another;
The life of a sister or a brother. Racial barriers:
What are they, but one's blind hatred for another colour?
If you lived the life they do, how would their
Discrimination leave an affect on you?
When the same of the world, isn't the same in your
Sphere,– a harsh word said publicly neither sheds a tear.
But you identify yourself in the identity of what
You've been told; in a world where the new is just
A reincarnation of an old.

I guess,
The hate of back then is just a new,
Coming back around all over again. On repeat:
The hurt on ourselves; repeated on children's grandchildren.
High expectations we've set get so taller and taller,
While the worth of ourselves gets so belittled by a former.

What's change with yesterday's chains,
Shame that replaces a familiar name;
Those who don't give a **** are ******
In a nation under your nose; vaguely it understands.
What do you stand for on the stands of your life,
And who do stand with,– be it your God, your family
Your friends, a husband or a wife?

Be not kind in just for appearance and status.
Trade good from the bad given, the love you have
To dilute the hate. "I know they hate us,
But it was never the hate that created us"

It was love...

So to be, or not to be: Do you be the not
Of what they want be,– or rather not to be,
Of all the world's faults, that is the question.

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

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

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

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

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

A face of one good expression,
tastes of deception; covers depression
A life of tags; no mentions
not mention a passive aggressive

Beat up, won't give up
the Sun's feet up, after kicking my ****
Double t; tedious tip toeing
But my mistake it was three
like the three seconds I forget to breathe

...exhale heavily
one hell of a life, hoping he dies heavenly
This task of living feels a little heavy; not nearly
as being blinded by time trying to see clearly

'Oh but that was just me in third person
third verse, standing on that stanza
But yes I can sir, by the fourth try;
nurturing, sensitive, compassionate, I'm a cancer

              ...oh wow, this felt a bit random

Chase emotions,
Fishing out on love.

I'm hooked.
Placed orders on feelings by the corner store of my heart that's fully
booked.

Spend the worth of time making due within hours.
Pretty girls wanting to keep in my pocket don't come that easily by buying them pretty flowers.

Learnt the lesson too well.

Tell you what was in the few minutes won't be what is
So if you hear me paying on dues for life, I'll take my time to pay the fees.

And people's opinions won't matter if they don't stick
For we all can't afford to buy glue on the daily
Or spend the time digging on memories within thoughts to pick.

So I'll be captain of the course my heart travels

Riding waves of emotions.

Flipping through the best moments of life through the channels.

Held down to my word by gravity.

What will keep me sane is sometimes my lost sanity.

Like randomness I make from guessing thoughts
They'll comfort the empty pain I felt from fully treated hurts.

A Dog chasing it's tail, pain will inspire me that much to continue on the chase.
I may find the memories in the thoughts of sound

Showing something hidden beneath a smile on face.
But just don't think me falling before I've hit the ground.

~profits of prophets
lining riches; a queue to fill
their pockets

spear head spirit
not so sharp as a liars tongue
words a knife, and the loudest
cocky tones just a blaring empty gun

you shoot for fun,
fun to shoot shots if the target hit
the blowback becomes being denied
                        ~he'd call her *****

that's rich,
not to hold onto the fact of a reach
but of which you regret a miss
to have not gained a miss, and *****
wet kiss. Wet are the eyes of calling it quits
freeing mind from criminal advances—acquit

but I could sound a little preachy
on fruits of the spirit; quite peachy
joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, gentleness,
faithfulness, self-control

to say you know, or no to the subject matter
of my poem. must of been on the nose; you smelt
the suppose in this prose

and I suppose that makes this the end of my
random poem

Who am I, but a vessel of past despair,
    With a tangled knot in my mind, aware,
    "Break free from the chains of depression's snare,
     Confess your truth, find solace in the air."
     But does this advice still hold its worth,
     When wielded as a weapon, causing hurt?

"The words from a pen, a mind's indulgence,
     A gateway to thoughts, seeking resurgence,
     Escaping the prison, a soul's penitentiary,"
     Said the one who loved fiercely, with intensity.
     Yet the voice of the voiceless, it seems,
     Falls on deaf ears, lost in a realm of dreams.

Misunderstood, they heard me wrong,
     "I wished to shed my identity, be strong,
      Not brave enough to change my hair's hue,
      Like my smiles, I alter, but never anew.
      Wearing a frown, they won't take me seriously,
      Even when I express my pain so clearly.

In moments of boredom, my words flow,
     But relationships have taught me to go,
     Through a board of scrutiny, every decision,
     As if love owed me, demanding precision.
     But this time, I'll confront it head-on,
     No wooden board, just justice to be won.

Success, a pinnacle that feels unwise,
     A light-bulb to illuminate my eyes,
     To see my reflection in a brighter light,
     But as pockets fill, judgment takes flight.
     Counting the screams at empty walls,
     Filling the void that my soul enthrals.
     No cries of woe echo louder than before,
     Two Forty-Four, the hour I silently implore.

Running with kids who only speaking subbic
Doing the worst of things with no care in public
Girls clutching stomachs, in their guts screaming they love it
To find the whole thing disgusting
I'm discussing all of my judgements
Still not relating with my cousins
And it's kind of scary how time feels
Tired of making mistakes on life's lonely wheel
Made up phases when every boy wanted fades
Singing about Compton, but never what we were raised
But our corrupt streets will eat your heart, and be grazed
And when you tried to be fresh, pretending to be cool in school
As wanting to break all of the rules, we know we never could
Never should—but it felt good knowing you were the dude
Thinking of how to impress girls, meant you being rude
But I must of learnt a lot
Really from all the things I never got

I just need to apply brakes to my heart
I just hope it doesn't break me apart

And as I'm growing older
I've got more warm remarks, with handshakes getting colder
The essence of confessions, all the time feeling restless
Not fitting in with the rest, and I would care less
So often careless, but let me learn from my youth
I've got glue in my shoes, stuck in place and dance moves
But I must of learnt a lot
Really from all the things I never got

I just need to apply brakes to my heart
I just hope it doesn't break me apart

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

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

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

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

Government officials weave their words into riddles –
All your secret crushes, gaze at you, with laid bare feelings
Forever searches endlessly, all around for its dreamers.

“Going out to multiple,”
Aspires to make a lasting mark on all of its creatures
Beloved skins still ache for the warmth of bygone touches –
All the diamonds within you, long to be called precious.

A thankless toil, is inscribed by the silent prayers of regret;
As faith tenderly draws to those who embrace fresh beliefs –
The roots of our lineage all stand as reluctant witnesses.

While debt is the secret lover,
You so desperately try to conceal from both family and friends
Poverty, the only hidden vice, lurks quietly beneath all of
our best efforts

Suicide is a simple fate for those who have sadly lost all hope
Indulgers in life's fleeting pleasures- their souls have unfortunately
surrendered as well.

Enemies seem more trustworthy, their malice clear; unmistakable
Those we hold dear can betray us, their misdeeds cloaked in the
guise of familiarity.

The essence of our character is scrutinized by the judges' gaze—  
As the loudmouths clash with the silent observers  
Time wields a battalion of uncertainties when it’s scarce,  
And though words can weave exquisite poetry, we often  
Rush to voice our thoughts without a moment’s pause.

                                             Pause- and read that all again!

Reading the Bible, when Jesus died
Each time I was feeling suicidal. Grab onto the rifle,
Feeling ****** in those cycles. Who am I though, in the
These staying thoughts, wondering where to go?

Reading a newspaper, to impress the daily
Struggles of my neighbour. Asking for a teaspoon of cooking
Oil as a favour. We all bleed the same, but act as if we’re
Not made from the same creator?

Reading the comments, the racial barriers,
Looking black, but I was told I belonged to the coloureds.
White tongue speaking, too seem a little different, yet
I wasn’t regardless. A garden of people, but why did it feel
Like we weren’t any part of those pretty flowers?

Reading the gimmicks, the fake prophets, and
All of those acting religious. Irreligious, eerie thoughts
Of those seeing their own hate as a witness. Can you believe
This, or are we the generations just to repeat this?

Reading up on the icon, believing one could be my
Saviour while they’re well gone. I could remember all
Of the lyrics of a trendy song. But not enough verses of
My Bible with the dust on. Would I rise less to Heaven by
The next dawn?

Reading the tears of years, I’ve got the tragedy of
Losses to former peers. Not in death, but feels like it
When we haven’t spoken in years. It’s clear we weren’t
Here for too long, to relate on our greatest fears.

So I’m just reading, reading, reading,
Never to stop reading all that I see.
I’ve read into so much matters of this crazy world,
My eyes at times bleed.

I read on...

Why is love so real,
only when it really hurts.
Especially now,
when she's your real first?

Reality basis of an empty mind filling up an entire space,
Inhaling the oxygen of Holy atmosphere quickly, to be the first one ahead, as if we were in a race.
Counting the time backwards to redo all my past steps I did way before.
I have a thousand dreams and goals in mind, but you'll still hear me ask for a little more.

Realize who and what you are,
before the world claims it to be.
You are what words
speak of you.
But realize amongst ten thousand tongues,
which one tells the Truth.

Things written on our hearts
become like scripture.
What you read into the most,
the mind starts to believe.
As what's in your heart,
your actions show for the world to see.

So realize such things
for such are what we are,
As human beings.

It is truly a strange irony;-
to ponder upon the behavior of a foolish dog,
daring enough to bite the hand that nourishes them,
Just as a bee daydreaming about stinging their queen.

Tell me what sort of dreamer,
would fairly detest even a fragment of a tranquil sleep,
As someone who yearns for the warmth of love and
affection, but hurriedly scorns its gentle embrace.

I do ponder the contradiction within,
a peacemaker who harbors an aversion to perfect silence;-
A baffling realization to witness, how swiftly one can
turn against the very source of provision and care,
—that which sustains them.

Yet we persistently turn our backs on our Creator...

My ears catch the hush of the stream,
A red balloon floats in my dream;
With worries that swell,
I count breaths as well,
Afraid of love's tender gleam.

Now my gaze drifts away from the ground,
As my heart finds a rhythm profound;
In this flight up high,
With the clouds I will fly,
In a world where true love can be found.

A red bicycle just sits on a wall
waiting, waiting patiently, to be rode

To be out on the road once more;
more or less a reason not to be left out in the cold

Red in a fiery paint; red fury blaze in a colour as bold
waiting, waiting patiently; not on display, being
watched and ignored

It had hopes of being picked out of that store;
to be out in the world with so much in store,
—to be so much more

Waiting, waiting patiently; once as excited as the little girl
that opened him out of that Christmas box;
To be found in awe of a child and their parent's applauds

But alas, as it's winter's pricking thorn,
this red little bike has to wait all winter, pierced by the thought
of knowing he has been left out in the cold

My floors are drenched in crimson, wine cascading
like unsolicited wisdom, a testament to my attempts at maturity,
Hoping it seeps into people’s gaze. Yet, to their astonishment,
I revel only in the celebration of my own existence.
Fragments of my being are enamoured with self-love,
serving myself a lavish feast of introspection.

In my unconventional revelries, I find my heart eager to
drift apart, tethered to someone who thrives far from the
clutches of shame. As you dwell in the dreamscape you've
crafted- a vivid mural of your own utopia; I firstly succumb
to tears on my pillow, muffling all the echoes of my anguish.

My floors remain a vivid red; every moment of pretence
fades into oblivion, yet the pain lingers. Time hangs heavy on
my wrist, each second bleeding away, striving to meet an
acceptable standard. My fears and anxieties rise with the sun's
glow, while many struggle to confront their own truths,
choosing instead to bury them deep.

My floors are undeniably red; beneath the veil of existence,
amidst the tumult of conflict—can you hear the whispers of
those desperately clinging to life, do their floors cry in
red too?

Roses are red, the ones that won't grow by my heart,
they evoke a sense of longing and unfulfilled desires.
Delicate petals, once vibrant and full of life, now lay dormant,
mirroring the dormant feelings within. All a bittersweet
reminder that emotions, like flowers, have a finite lifespan.

I'm tending my blue, in the violence of my eyes,
as turbulent as the crashing waves on a stormy night.
The storm brewing within me has fueled a relentless pursuit of
dreams, propelling me forward despite the obstacles that stand
in my way.

With determination and resilience, I push forward,
believing that the next turn of the century will bring
new beginnings and endless possibilities.

I had a tenfold of wishful thinking, my mind
consumed by thoughts of what could be.
Each night, I found myself wondering if my prayers had
reached the celestial gardens of Heaven, where they might be
nurtured and grow into reality. It was a hopeful plea, a desperate
attempt to manifest my deepest desires and find solace
in the belief that someone or something was listening.

In my quest for fulfillment, I planted a piece of gold in
the grounds of time, a symbol of optimism and abundance.
It represented not just material wealth, but also the invaluable treasures of love, happiness, and purpose. I yearned for a worthwhile time to be alive, where every moment was infused with meaning and each day held the promise of fulfillment.

Red Roses,
Thoughts of many thorns.
Loss of focus,
From the stinging. Dearly it burns.

Valley's bed,
Filled out of my Heart with only red.
Fallen Hearts and roses in Winter's breath, down on the ground to shed.
No life is spared.

Spare the bore
From the ongoing gore,
Of a plant being as is from once a spore.

Red Roses of a field,
Thorns of Heart not keen to yield.
This Valley feels like a battlefield.

Battling the Sun's scorching heat,
We few can not retreat.
I fall so **** weak,
Barely can speak.

Oooooh

Red Roses I fail to say
Of a common smell in the air of decay.
Losing another Heart each and every single day.
Cold winters of an early May.

A throne of the dark roses, with thorns of blood that mercilessly pierced her fragile heart. She now sits upon the shattered remains of what was once love, consumed by an overwhelming feeling of pain and betrayal.
It is as if love itself has transformed into a crown of thorns, constantly piercing her mind with thoughts of those she once held dear.

The agony she endures can only be compared to the torment of a devil dressed in red, yet her sorrow runs even deeper, cloaked in the blackness of the night.

It is like she is haunted by whispers of death that fill the air, like a mournful lullaby whispered into the ear of her past lovers. Every step she takes weighs heavy upon those who have passed, as though her footfalls are a solemn procession towards a coffin.

And in that very place where you last found solace, your head resting peacefully, it now becomes the site of your final farewell, a place where love has bled out its last drop of comfort.

Your face blush is like red tomatoes
that look almost pink; you give out this
warm kind of smile, that blankets me by surprise
beneath the second nature of your silver eyes
the words of affirmations you give me, grants
me tears, and gives me so much poetry to write

Holding time to each other in these aging hands
let’s build a blue house to hide away our blues-
bites of the sound of love to your ears pricked
behind my eyes pictured window; I can still see
through your body’s frame- with those tired eyes
that once bought into dreams, I’ll sell you the rest

Let the enhancement of those weights give a better
feeling to your life, as salt over your horizon’s shoulder,
wait, as we wait to get much older- the days must get older
for our hearts to both to feel much warmer. Those tomatoes
will still remain so red, to their well appearance- you’ve
kept me well fed.

Surely that often enough you look that fine
Aged on the Beauty and taste of your Love
Lips tasting on you of such fine Red Wine.

A glass for my troubles just to dull them off
Darling be the last of the strong grape essence that will grip my throat.
Darling Red Wine of mine of much worth.

For on this night O' Love of mine
Your heart turns the twirls of my mind till it spins out of my control.

For a piece of your Love has paid off my feelings for you by a dime.
For I'll search so deeply inside my soul,
To finding reason to grow old of your taste.

But you'd never go to my tongue's memory to spoil.

Stirring my heart, stirring through me, piercing my heart right through.
Sticking to me that close that we're probably one.
And surely I'm not taking all this just as childish fun.
For I take to your taste that seriously enough that I never grow tired of you.

My sweet, sweet, Red Wine,
O' How often do I see you so fine.
For my Heart is awed to the knowing of you being Mine.

O' my Red Wine.

There’s a girl who mirrors my every move—
   it makes me afraid of my own reflection.
And if I’m biting time,
  then please— serve me a couple seconds.
I should’ve loved you better, much earlier…
  so I’ll be with you in a second.

Let me shield my eyes— watching you put
on your armour, decorating your smile,
 you’re a mouthful of colour.
A love picked from the bunch,
  too rare not to treat like a flower.
First as a friend, protective as kin—
even when your salty remarks
 mistake pamper for pepper.
Your attraction? In mint condition—
     a treat like a peppermint.

My skin’s a little tinted, my cries tilt
a little sideways— these long-*** messages
   just to keep you from trailing behind.
Smiling beside you, you give me food
  for thought, and a kind word on the side.

It’s hard to find the genuinely kind.
      But you?
You’re a rare kind— the kind I’d hold
on to, if only I knew how.

Tears streamed down his face
as he stood before the mirror,
as if it was the only moment he could
genuinely catch a glimpse of his true self.

We appear to love as captives, shackled by the relentless whispers
of our hearts. The places we seek solace may very well be our final
resting spots; our beds could transform into our tombs. We exist
only as long as He allows, wrapped in blessings and gifts, while
you continue to frolic in this world, surrendering yourself to
become its plaything.

And still, you laugh—gasping for air, straying down a treacherous
path, while within, you weep silently; suffocating as you struggle
for breath… a twisted obsession of despaired wet dreams.

Tell me, in our yearning for mercy, why does it elude us –
for the mercy we long for, why doesn’t our own exist?

To worship life, sadly means  learning how to laugh at your
worth. You present yourself as a lump of sugar, yet your
thoughts are like a lump of coal, consuming you as you stare
into the glow of your phone…

                                        Ah, I pen these lines for my own reflection.

You may not see the final destination—
but every step, every fall, is part
of something forming. The direction
you're heading will always be patient.
Even when you feel sick from believing
you're stagnant, you are still shifting.
Still becoming.

Don’t worry! The silence has its own
voice. And the waiting has meaning,
even when it feels so cruel. In time—
it will all make sense.

The past you came from will become
a mirror. And your future self will look
into it and see how far you’ve really come.

Under these words – under pressure;
a reflective gaze cast on restless skies, days
becoming mirrors to us all — shining back
fragments we try to ignore.

Thoughts over water, drowning away in
myself — no lifeboat in sight, just ripples
of casual doubts, and this casual self that suits
the occasion of standing on business — as if
duty could silence the tide within.

Later rehearsals play out in the theatre of trials —
where life keeps testing, and those falling in love
in public become gossip in the rain.
Soft, but heard. Brief, but echoing.

Give us a little space; space exists to be used —
lest we start to feel abused by presence that
doesn’t pause to respect the silence.

There’s always a clue to finding yourself —
often tucked inside those who build you up,
brick by spoken brick — sticking to your side,
a friendship made of genuine glue.

And its occupants; are the ones who don’t
overstay their worth, who know how to shape
time into a home away from home.
Not permanent, but warm. Not perfect, but safe.

To share tears like rivers drawing in and from
one another —currents of grief and grace,
there are gifts in that flow. So appreciate those
in your life who’ve been so current —both
present and moving, flowing with you instead
of watching you sink.

At sake; we are lost and distant from home
In after the smoke, the rising ash of turmoil
Who really wins on both sides of the war
Only the dead live to see victory
Victim to bloodshed—they no longer see it's misery
But leave their loved ones in misery

To watchmen; on luxurious high wall
Must they see of evils, but ignore them all
Who really wins on both sides of the war
A ruler to deem an enemy
But as of their people—forced to call neighbour enemy

Profoundly, I honestly  should be flipping through the pages of The Bible.
But I think I've been the good Christian today.
Oh wow, I'm in such denial.

My religious beliefs were something I learnt inside a building on a particular Day.
What was constantly burned into my mind was, "Jesus is the Truth, light and The Way"

So what is my way to success without the shortcut through life
Told that the future is praying now in the present for my future wife.

But I'm trying my best to find some strength to remain in prayer
But my world is burning down in front of my eyes
Our misdeeds and evil actions the flames layer.

See I belief in a Lord but I hate how I can't stay that long on the belief
For it was hardest for me to accept an invisible entity to help being my relief.

My religious beliefs sometimes clouds my judgement
And through storms of life I find it that hard to sing out to Him the loudest.

For sometimes it's like you left me in alone the wake
Adding to the fact the world tries to prove you real or fake?

We haven't met in person, so if I die don't disappoint me in death
For I'm pulling out on my Faith by a slim stretch.

Now everything feels like a mile
From a long way before seeing Christians hiding themselves behind a Sunday smile.

But are we still on that course we've travelled
Acting though we have all things in check but we won't like the day it comes to be unravelled.

I'd hate to be part of the bunch
But as the days are growing with me and time, it feels to be coming that such.

Would those with such strong religious beliefs look at the broken Christian the same
Or would such people spit rivers every time they'll speak his name.

For see my religious beliefs don't see me out when I fall to ground
When I say something out of the stereotype Christianity spectrum, I'm then kicked out of the crowd.

When the idea I've brought out is not making me feel that proud.

Now brought out of me is this youthful pride.
That large ego of a man I tried my best to hide.
Questioning between being ungrateful or thinking it's all me with the Lord behind.

Really I should pray a little more often
But I feel like chocking on the idea when saying the first words and it's all but coughing.

For when I want to ask the Lord for something I feel like acting so greedy.
Hey Lord how about a couple dollars for the hectic day. Don't see me acting so needy.

Such religious beliefs, thinking good deeds will get you an express pass into Heaven
But even thieves repenting on their last misdeeds will meet me there as my Brethren.

Perhaps the way to break free being caught in between the battles is breaking free from the Christian stereotype
For I'd rather try to be real to myself and people all around. Not hiding behind the hype.

I just want to live my life like I'm living out on worth.
To believe I'm not the waste of space in the world nor the waste of time from the first seconds from my birth.

For if I leave the earth in a moment where will I go
Though I'm told Heaven awaits me how do I truly know.

All I know is, holding onto this faith as all to hold,
To one day die on an age of very old
Making it to Heaven Gates in the Awe and wonder of it's Behold.

Speaking from my Religious Beliefs.

All the set remainders; the remains
of ourselves left on our skins
Nothing was in vein, being under your skin,
and these less than said words, then after
Caught in the wings of butterflies in our stomachs;
as I was tickled by the beauty of it, filled with laughter

I feel out of time, out of my mind
with you out of my sight
In the glimpse of so many hers, how I'm
pointlessly looking for pieces of you in such a plight
As I remember all of the times, I was stuck in your eyes,
to the rise of that ******; I had nothing to say
But my breathless gaze spoke in bold, and you gentle
hand resting on my chest was a simple enough reply

Tucked away in an embracing, your bracing touch
wrapped around my heart- I kissed your shoulder;
To ease the weight you had to carry of my insecurity,
purely out of a form, of me not wanting to conform

Why your ******* were hard before
towards such a softie like me,
Aroused my curiosity, in it's mischievous means;
and a hug where I misheard your wish after you bit me ear
I found it the only excuse to hold onto a past behind,
grabbing onto your rear- a tight squeeze!

My pants felt tightened inch by inch growing
and stuck to the fabric of my Levy jeans
A stain I know I'd be cleaning for days,
by all means; I meant not distract you by this
quick response in my genes-

I haven't been touched the same,
but being felt by others who I barely get to recall a name
To put a face to all of the kisses I have left to give,
I can't face the truth of imagining your taste on their lips
Cold kisses of a Lip ice kind of kiss, still not the same as
yours, but I still often wish

                                      ...sigh, I won't even end this
                                        as it reminds me of how everything ends.

rental cars – parked away ideals across the street; had a bite of the
sweetest dream, but must have chipped a few teeth. backwash waters;
just a taste of love – most of it stayed in the bottle, still I enjoyed that
little sip.

rental cars – parked a little too close to the darkness, under a
billboard sign that gave directions to the light. by day I’m all that the
world’s eyes believe of me; the genius of one’s destiny only revealed
by prayers late at night. but maybe I’m preying more than praying –
believing in all the wrong, hoping to come up with something right.

rental cars – sometimes I feel like I’m on this journey of life with so
many borrowed things, paid for dreams, passenger fears – sticky
gears, imbalanced wheels, a rusty engine, and an unfair lease
agreement, that I pray will expire long before the next few years.