Feelings in charge, emotions made of lead
An attraction for passion; turned over itself
-An action of retraction; to a fearful heart
Of once again fearing the feeling of falling
In love

Time is the glue for a once broken heart
There’s never enough of it- love helps to heal
But where does one’s present day, get it from
Your lover is gone; the L for love is lost, for
It’s over

Memories cross a mind, burning the bridges
Makeshift labyrinth of emotions- lost in them
Years of cold needing; seeking, unfeeling
Socially unappealing; a ligament stripped
A holding hand to that feeling of love, so out

Of touch for that rush; a crush that becomes
A liking, a liking that becomes love, love that
Becomes us; it’s all apart now…

like a piece of gum spat onto the concrete
—some of us that are still stuck to the streets
without any real reason to look for love;
just being trampled by stranger's feet

like a fly on the wall, seeing it all in
a private room
hovering over flesh, and trying to make small talk
out of a conversation already dead
reading into all these pointless conversations;
all spelling doom

tell me why I'm holding onto you, and still losing control
with all the stars in your eyes, galaxies and planets
it will always be us being so many worlds apart

Peace,
won't be the quick option
without chaos at first
Like a storm,
there comes a silent calm in the end.

You only know peace
when you've known it's chaos.

These thoughts of you,
are like the smallest pebble to the grandest mountain,
everything holds a certain value, contributing to
the intricacies of this existence.

And there must have been
an unpleasant disturbance in my heart; as if a pebble
was thrown in my eye’s still waters- causing many ripples.

Oh, it’s perfectly strange;
not quickly recognizing your own tears
anymore;- some people do cry better in the rain.

The portrait I've painted of you bathes in the glow of a setting sun,
Each dawn graced with your radiant smile,
Drawing me deeper into the warmth of your gaze.

Your image, forever etched in my mind, provides all I ever need.
Much like a jubilant trumpet’s cry,
I cannot help but sing your praises,
With an unspoken promise to give you my all.
In the dust of days gone by, it's your earthy brown eyes,
Unmasking intentions as pure as morning light.
The joy of your companionship is unparalleled,
Yet, I find greater delight in unveiling your hidden side.

You are akin to a summer behind a veil,
Unfolding exquisitely as you reveal your true self.
As we retreat into the seclusion of the evening,
The drapes cocoon you, shielding you from the world’s gaze,
Granting me a private viewing of your unguarded self,
A world of you that unfolds when we are alone.

Each time that I look in your eyes,
A part of me quietly dies.

But I'd give even more,
For the love I adore—
You're my heart in a perfect disguise.

these words sit on a page- there's a crush between
a paper and pen. ah, how smitten are they both, as emotions
feel deep as a well; metaphors and meaning start to swell -
here the poem sits, it sits as a work or art, pieces of the
human heart

may it's message shine as the echoes
of common ground, buried in truth, though a hint
of exaggerated lies, brings it up to rise to the reader's eyes.
             perhaps poetry is a whispered truth

an essence of each passing day, these are stories pinned
onto the page - here I am, but here I am searching for
the words to say.

At the start of this, it already sounds racist
From statements about dating a white girl
Being considered white whale chasing

From jokes being made of being loud as a coloured,
And acting raw as a black; we'd pass the jokes carelessly
Without any care of offence, as we'd carelessly laugh

From jokely calling everyone the N word
In a country where it translates to give
Wouldn't the outer world love to give their own opinion,
And cancel us with no F's to give

From the stories from parents about the white man being rough,
But bringing so many things to us
To now taking their farms, and stating "this right is ours"
How is this the future, when history has repeated itself,
But in reversed roles; not much to say we've come so far

From the eyes of a child to see a poor white man as something strange; and a poor black man as a much closer relative,
Relatively speaking it's still the poverty of our eyes, seeing such things so poorly. And how's a poor man to look for loose change,
In a world that hasn't really changed?

But if I went sightseeing around the world,
blinded from stereotypes and world opinions
Perhaps to see everyone as a fellow sister and brother
Of the same father,—father time. The same mother,—earth
Could that instead give them a second to think in their hearts,
Not to be a racist first

                 ...or will this only be, a poem about racism?

the scent of love has detached from my heart
a fallen leaf from a tree no longer bearing ripe fruit –
and I rest watching the other’s love blossom
off into the distance

and

an old lover’s kiss carries the scent of love
by the wind in between two lips – a secret kept
between the two… forever, lest they meet again

oh, what a great pain it would be.

**** dreams-
oh the naked eyes of desire;
as passion burns my inners with her fire

Was it your red lips,
that scarred me in marking bites after a kiss
Dancing tongues in a chorus sung by longing flesh,
and a searching location to address the need for
me, to rip you out of that nightdress

Slowly I caress, with running fingers on your skin,
chasing after your awaited breath; not rushing to go in
But with ease, easily as the words I say to express love,
it impresses my hunger for you by the tip of a tongue

      I must apologize now,
        as hard as it is now; I may get a little rough!

"Take that sorry and swallow it; like the first spit of the morning. 
That holds around your neck by; the grips of life.

Your sorry's are so out of hand.

But does it hold anything, if I'm not touched in the first place,"
I had asked her. But it felt like I was asking myself more of why
I couldn't accept her apologies.

And I can't afford any of the love;
Still without paying much attention
Asking if I'd waste any of my time
Not thinking about you
I must of been dreaming on some sold
Out dreams; dreams I could never afford
But I'm enjoying the feeling
Of buying into your conversation,
Still you should know that, I'll always be at a loss for words

as with love's sweetest eye,
be the desire to be loved,
for the apple of my eye,
shall be one.

The glass of my eye, has your face in view. A bed by nights;
scented in myrrh. Fresh in the kisses of love's two. Once in
chambers of conceived room. A fairest children blessed
of a spirited mother. Destined to love while in those mother's
womb.

In April; was it made to be your name. As the windows of my
eyes are on gaze. For your kiss of sweet lilies is greatest gain.
Oldest together; in the wrinkles of time

I am a raindrop, born in the clouds. My existence, a fleeting dance between the ethereal and the tangible. I join my siblings, millions of others, in a journey that seems both endless and predestined. We tumble, we spin, we collide, and yet there is a strange sense of harmony to it all. As if we are part of something greater than ourselves, something that transcends the physical world.

And then, finally, we reach the edge of the world. The vast, endless expanse that stretches out before us. We plummet, feeling the weight of gravity pulling us down, down, down. The wind rushes past us, tearing at our tiny forms, yet somehow it also carries us forward. It whispers secrets of the world below, of the life that awaits us in the depths.

And then, just as suddenly as it began, my journey ends. I strike the surface of the water with a soft splash, disappearing beneath the surface. I am no longer a raindrop, but a part of something else now. I am a leaf in the still waters of a pond.

The world around me is a study in contrasts. Above, the sky stretches out in shades of blue, dotted with clouds that occasionally drift past, casting shadows over the water. Below, a carpet of greenery sways gently in the breeze, hinting at a hidden world teeming with life. I drift lazily, carried by the currents, my only concern being to stay afloat and avoid being swept away.

Drifting gracefully on the serene surface of a tranquil pond, I exist as a leaf with no defined purpose, no specific path to follow, and no inner musings. Contentedly, I meander aimlessly, embracing the tranquility that envelops these undisturbed waters. As a leaf, I find solace in simply being, surrendering to the gentle currents that guide my journey.

On sixth day:
you made us after your likeness,
to go on to be fruitful and multiply,
The Images of worth;
of a great love's flamed fuel,
You paid for it all, for the weight of my sin.

Jesus held it all.

In the abundance of life,
Like a piece of art;
your love an ornament in my eyes.
You saw me as herald and royal,
even when I didn’t feel as much.

Bare of my heart; guiltless of my shame,
naked, being vulnerable into your love.
I have no cares of this world to sustain me,
I've been left empty by it,
though on it's rocky grounds; the righteous
aren't shaken.

My mind is like a group home,
my thoughts need special attention,
And a lot don't know each other too well,
constantly asking where you're from.
I'd refund my life quickly
if I had a refundable coupon.

I cross the line like everytime
I go outside when I fake a smile,
I'm dead inside, but act so alive
for most of the time inside my life;
As I love to pass the time like it isn't mine.

A lot of people think that's strange,
well others tell me not to think that way.
But I can not escape,
how tortured I am inside dark
spaces of my brain.
Because I don't choose to complain,
I try to contain, all the crazy thoughts
that try to give me a strain.

I'm like a lace tied to my thoughts,
not supposed to leave my mind,
They stay there by default,
better them staying at peace
Than them to causing assault,
so I lock them inside a vault.
Throwing the keys away, making them ghost,
I'm a little mental, what I self diagnosed.

I might be ill,
thinking I'm sickened by my mind.
Within it there's silent chaos inside,
so if I open it up, it might not be
something you don't like.
But that also becomes my creativity by design.

So I'll just end this rhyme,
letting my mind rest.
I gave you food for thought,
hoping it's easier for you to break down
and digest.

Dig out my chest a grave,  
Bury my heart a garden,  
**** out my wickedness,  
In the hopes of love to grow.  
To those falling in love;  
Falling out of it more,  
Rising out of that grave,    
    — Aren’t you a beautiful rose?

Pieces of the world will fail you,
it's desires only grant themselves.
Try as you may,
but your heart still cries.
Life's hard and I'm not the only one.

Falling to knees,  
as always.
Broken into pieces,  
from a former self.
Robbed of everything,
that bears your hearts wealth.

In these very tears,
is a place filled with fears.
What is to be revealed,
things seem at an end, but we're not done.
Battles have been fought, but a greater war has to be won.

The price of life comes at a cost,
and to find yourself means admitting your lost.

Words that bless your ears,
should be the same wiping away your tears.

The eyes of man don't fully understand,
his only as human,
Who sometimes acts in the ways of lesser good,
quick to sin as his nature would.

Man only has to look at the horizon
for the Son to set on their eyes.
Man only has to believe
for blessings to arise.

A robbery: it starts of, by overcharging a people of  their everyday basic commodity. Honestly! Are we all not trying to live that way,
But how do we survive in a life of less regards, and an apology?Seems a price tag’s sayings is, “I’m more than your worth”

The entitled: are so many undeserving, as lightning is in a man’s bones; his enlightenment is struck in a nerve of knowing there’s not much he owns. Though he certainly owes.

A dream: of working long overdue hours in their head, the day is gone but one man’s labour never ends. A waking dream; deep breath out for there’s a lot to be taken in. Still in the reality of it only being good at taking.

A bigger than life experience, unfortunately with a small package.
Miss your train of thought; it's best to wait for the next carriage.
Off the rails, is there a better way to living? Seems hard in doing things yourself, but also harder to be Christian.

So understand my only greatest prayer in life is to find wisdom.

If people smelt your intentions,
can they know who sent you
Then again,
who really knows?

As is a play of words,
right on the tip of the nose.

Pause for a heartbeat; envision the world through the
serene gaze of God — tell what would you see? A sea
of ordinary souls, humbly on their knees, even as the
world tries to drown them in a depth of sin.

How beautiful it would be to witness such a thing…
but you chose to drown in your sins, instead of
embracing all of His love that washes you clean.

I know people who
sold their secrets to bottles
That don't taste life
they just swallow.
For me I poured out my heart,
thinking it would be colossal.

When I thought loving was
strange for having me falling
But love can also be like the rain
have tears pouring.
So don't mistake the past,
or erase out the pain, it's all for absorbing.

I've learnt more from past loves
more than what I put in it,
Had a taste of loving someone
though times I didn't believe it.
I've chased feelings till I
got caught by love,
Disregarded  a lot of my ways
just  to have better ones thereof.

Cause love will break you
but makes you who you are,
It's shaped me well, but also
had to leave me with a scar.

We've all been victims to hurt
chasing a buzz,
All taught the birds and bees,
all gotten the gift of love before Xmas.

So whether you drank from a bottle
to drown out your pain
Wrote down your promises, saying
you won't fall in love again.
Know that love will always find you
even when we stop searching,
Time will move on with love,
given time to heal is always assuring.

So to whoever listening
still searching for love outwards
Let the love of your heart heal
you first, finding love inwards.

My girlfriend turned to me, her eyes searching for clarity.
“When we first crossed paths, we were nothing but good friends.
Do we still share that bond, that genuine care for one another as true
friends do?”

With conviction, I replied,
             “Absolutely, yes.”

She paused, her expression shifting as she continued,
“Then perhaps it’s best we remain just friends. Even without the
romance, I could never bear to lose the precious connection we
forged at the beginning.

                                                                AS FRIENDS.”

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

What is a love turned into ashes –
Burnt by the flames of forgotten passions
Actions are so passive;
Our stories still left written out
In captions

My feelings for you are still massive,
Despite being inactive –
So when my lips spell out your name,
I start to fall in love, tasting that old
Bittersweet magic

And it’s truly so wicked, tragic
By feeling so fickle now –
But I happily accept all
That happened…

My words are timeless
even though time isn't on my side.
But why should I hold onto her,
even she knows she isn't mine.

Essence of my tongue,
is a fragrance of my words.
Even when I'm tripping,
I can never fall while traffic runs,
and I quickly swerve.

For really I have to stay driven,
taking life sometimes as a race,
Trying to catch a success of waves,
but even the oceans don't show you it's grace.

Something you fail to see.

As I'm getting older,
life has a lot of boredom.
Especially at the outer edges
kept inside the border.
I'm acting really excessive,
but still come out on the other side sober.

Some days I feel like a
thousand people.
A lot of personalities,
no surprise I forget who's even leading.
It's either him or I,
we or others, or any other guy.

Who knows which version of me
even wrote this,
The same one who'd **** me if
I quote this.
A version who'd beat me with steel,
if I ever stole this.
But that's really how it is,
when you're split more than the sea by Moses

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.

Burnt out heroes
in amongst the burning plans of villains
Fearless- in amongst trying to be like your heroes
within comic feelings. Sounds comic; chiefly
read in pages of a lifestyle. Naked eye strips,
greyish looks of cloud lids filled with rain in my
eyes

Heaven is crying every night, a thousand
angels in a stormy night
Reminiscing fallen angels from that hole
in the sky. Human are too fallen; those lost
of conduct or virtue- a hole in their soul's closet
the devil that urge you. Church who; probed
questions of your faith to search you.
As I refer to you being trapped in your mind
off it's strict curfew

Even as a role model plays a perfect smile
there's still an act to keep thoroughly
But in that case when fans aren't around,
their face peels away the skins of lie
No need to practice your lines
no need to pretend to be a star out of Hollywood
like light's shine. Shyly acting free!
The end of the scene, a role model no longer blind
when they're now unseen

Skin grey
un rubbed emotions, and cracking sounds
drawing river lines on the skins display
All applauds are gone; just you clapping by
yourself under the clap of thunderstorms
Still feeling empty, even with the person you
brought home, bought home- to come and practice
those secrets tabs of your chrome

At times trying to be anti pessimistic
anti climatic, of all you've achieved and all
those childhood wishes
Swimming with the ugly fishes; selfish needs
you couldn't have had before
It's the role models, having crowds dancing
to their tune, all pressing their head on the floor
Can't mask a flaw, only disguising it until
it all comes out in the world

No role models left,
just the ashes of their dead careers and
immediate deaths. O yes, success tickles
the ears—as common sense becomes so deaf
All is grey, grey is the colour of my heroes,
forgetting they all started as imperfect people

As could I-
give falsehood to what is life...

Inside,
the many dark corners of a mind.

Do find yourself in the places
where fear tries to force you to hide.

Not relying on pride,
as what could save your life.

We live a day, for another one to
make us wise...

Only we can can inspire,
the spark of-
one's dream to it's fire.

And as we lift the hopes of others;
so does our own grow much higher...

I and this life inside,
are in a constant battle in my mind.
I often want to hide behind my pride,
but it couldn't once save my life.

I must be wise,
with the wisdom to inspire,
and to light the way of destiny's fire.
I'm low for the moment;
but every low point encourages me,
to push much higher...

Feeling imperfect, I am constantly striving to perfect the
way I look into your captivating eyes. It's like skipping
rocks on the symphony of tears that sometimes grace your eyes,
patiently waiting for the melody of your beauty to
reverberate back in the echoes of your love.
Your essence envelopes me like a sanctuary of celestial beings
each time our lips meet in a kiss. The moment you lashed out at
me with a bat aimed at my knees, I found myself unable to bat an
eye, at the sudden weakness that overcame them.

Our love story isn't the picture-perfect fairy tale, but nevertheless,
let's endeavor to make it extraordinary. Whenever weariness
overtakes you, I will be the place where you can seek solace and
reprieve. Even in the wetness of our shared kisses, there is
a power that could extinguish flames, yet not the passionate fire
that blazes fervently in the silent yearnings of our intertwined hearts.
And when we do dare to verbalize these desires, our words
take on the cryptic language of love, whispered in the secret
lexicon of our shared passion. Embracing each other, the space
between us is transformed into a warm cocoon of affection.

Struggling to contain myself, clutching onto the tautness of
my pants, these garments serve as a vessel to bring vitality to
the depths of your being. With every fiber of my being,
I seek to erase any remnants of you from all fabrics, so that I
may intimately discover you within the confines of your very pores.

Sing to me that serenade of love, a melody tailored for our
intertwined souls. Even if the lyrics slip from my memory,
the everlasting chorus echoes loud and clear, proclaiming,
"My darling, I am profoundly in love with you."

a space to breathe – my ID is just a membership card
for the club of my nationality. rationally detailed;
but the details of it aren’t the details of my life

my identity formed in numbers, letters, and regional
placement – a birth verification code into a nameless reality;
social norms, laws to conform, my legitimacy by roadblocks
that is confirmed… how I wish it said I love to write poems

that I'm insecure of my self image in the mirror sometimes,
that ageing with grace, is more of a reminder of all the things
I wish I had done at a younger age – a collection of my desires
and experiences; the love I have to give, love I hope to one
day receive, all the places I hope to dream, a place…

sigh,




                     a space to breathe.

Better living,
better for me to have it done.
She was the world,
all of her ideas so round.
Always the down to Earth type,
so close to ground.

How do we listen for hope,
if we don't know the sound,
Bragg about wisdom,
with none of which found.
She's a world,
amongst all planets,
Who knows how to spin your words,
so beware fellas.

I'm not writing about a girl,
or a lady of such
Neither a lush woman,
a type to break your heart.
Nor a being,
to have you falling in love.

It's a piece on living,
written to be read by eyes of the living
All of us still breathing,
how's the life you're living
Playing it safe all the time,
not a risk of risking?

What are your aspects of life?

Take this aspect,
expect and accept what comes to be next.
Be it may you're desperate or depressed,
nothing keeps you away from the rest.

All aspects of time. Times of living.
All of what we are. A better end than a beginning.

A simple life of a human.

Breakfast with the stares;
my bowl of cereal was extra cold
Killing all of the time in a crowed room;
a pretty enough serial killer
I milked up all of my tears,
drawing out the words to admit I was fed up
And quite full of myself, feeding up on all
of your food for thought

Sorry darling, call me a little selfish
for wanting every last bite of you
A man; as all men tend to be dogs;
still keeping his heart later on in a doggy bag
Thinking way too forward as always;
let me try and take it a little back- ******* perhaps?

But why such a line would deserve a chance
at your hand; is really just a possibility of a slap
Whit! Okay I felt that one for showing this kind of whit,
so please do call me an ***, for sounding like I'm
trying to get some ***

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

It's morning,
I wake to a windy Sunday.
A cool temperature on a sunny day.
The Sun is out,
and I wake my eyes to arise to today.

My feet touch the cold floor,
a strike of chill tickles a nerve.
Mother tells me it's my turn to bath,
I take my time, washing every part.
Wishing I could wash my soul,
cleanse my heart.
Lord knows I'm a sinner,
aren't we all?
To all these sins, I'm no beginner,
aren't we all?

Took a walk to grab a lift to church,
my own car was down.
Can't afford to pay for it with my own worth.
Why, why, why,
do things seem to not go my way?
I try, try, try,
to keep a smile upon my face.

Riding in the back seat,
riding with all the potholes
Every dip the tyre finds,
is a tiny hole inside my soul.
Today I feel a little worthless,
God, tell me my purpose!
I yell to you in my heart,
tell me do you hear this.

I'm living on the surface,
living flat on this green Earth
Getting devoured by locusts,
or really just the serpents.
Lying in tall grass, where the dirt is.

Find my way to the church entrance,
open doors, like the Heavens.
I know there's worth there,
a whole lot of treasures.
But my chest burns in the pressure,
Living a life battling depression.
I started this fight without a weapon.

Found my seat,
amongst all others, those living
I know we all needing some forgiving,
often our hearts are shut while they're  preaching.

I got a headache now,
head a pounding drum, playing loud.
Try to block out every sound,
people greet me, don't notice them all around.

I wasn't out drinking,
so I'm probably over thinking.
About the previous week, out there sinning.
I should do better,
not as perfect, even as a Christian.
I'm just in this building listening out for wisdom.

How will this story end,
the ending hasn't come to came.
Find it's end, my own reverence,
at the end rid my shame.

The end of this Sunday tale,
to face weeks with some better strength.

As with those favoured by stars,
Proudest titles of boast,
Fortune resting on cunning smoked cigars.
In themselves, nothing is toiled,
Famed eyes in our sights,
Thousand victories never once foiled,
Look at pride, by chest of host,
Frown on they glory of self,
As are the lovers of oneself the most.
                                  Fame is then a beloved,
                                  As only by a removed heart.

Calm as the night, carefree as the day;
A melody composed by the gentle stream
Of tears by the riverbank.

Pause by the water, soothing the warmth
Of your cheeks – your presence feels like
A deep yearning, dancing with the rhythm
Of your steps.

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.

Living life by a corner store;
buying into people's ideas.
Till my pockets grew empty,
and I was still searching for more.

Kids riding up and down the street,
not knowing much, just good at
disturbing the peace.
Memories we like to hold,
are probably the ones like our first kiss.
We went through times watching the stress of these adults.
Parents fighting each other,
thinking it's all our fault.

Never grew up with much,
had to make it feel like it was a lot.
Every gain we had, came with it's equal loss.
All the mistakes we made,
soon later came with a cost.

From acting shy around pretty girls,
spinning our words to impress them.
But too busy caught up in their curls.
As teens, promising to give them a world,
we knew we couldn't afford.
Spending our free periods in class kissing girls cause, we were bored.

Skipping a few classes, thinking in life we could skip ahead.
Telling each all the lies we rest in everyday,
always backing up your friend.
Teachers calling us out for not
being serious,
We didn't believe their words,
those words weren't really us.

Sneaking into clubs before eighteen,
sipping substances from brown bottles.
The times we had, we were surely wasting.

First few times we were smoking herbs,
pulling hard puffs, till we were disturbed.
Out of luck at times,
when we didn't find love or comfort.
Regardless of the cost,
we'd spend hours on gaming, all through the summer.

Boys feeling like men when we busy getting hooked on ****.
The start of our addictions, and the hunger of flesh was what showed.

Fitting in with the crowd till you found yourself,
realizing we don't have forever this youth.
But we didn't treasure it's wealth.

We're all adults now, and this adulting life at times *****.
Eventually I'll have to find love,
but falling in love really hurts and cuts.
With the fears of not giving her enough.

But we're adults now,
look how far we've come.
Can't runaway from the responsibility,
else we'll all be on the run.

This is the tale of growing up.

O'father, o'dearest father in heaven, hear me now,
It's your son, you know your son you love, place my feet to the Ground, my knees fall to bow.

Let me tell you of what's been going on,
I woke up today to another beautiful day and had more words to use to carry me a long.
Now I made it here, don't really know the name,
But let's call it home, home sweet home, blessed floors and walls in this place since the day you came.
Nothing new to report back, or I'm just losing my words when I'm talking to you,
Funny I planned this entire conversation in my head, now all I got to ask is, why is the sky so blue.

Wait a second, pause a moment, okay I found my words,
I want to thank you for, well everything really, everything even those annoying noisy birds.
Today was another but a different day from the one before,
So I found some more love today my spirit is almost full, but Father God can I have a little more.

And I wonder what your response would be right now.
Probably my son, you put a smile on my face even though you cannot see it but it's there somehow.
I'm so proud of you, what a wonderful being I made,
From your mothers womb I place you there, and my son died for your sins, now your debt is paid.

Maybe you would say something along those lines right?
Yes, no, maybe, it's okay I'm just glad you made that sun shine so bright.
Well a little too bright,
Just being honest here but that's okay it's still alright.
So let me get back to what you need me to do,
Don't miss me too much I'll be back soon, and Father God I love You.

Galloping,—
a harras of silhouette in the night’s shade.
Prancing swiftly as carelessly as winds in their mane.
Grey smoke blows out of their muzzle;
like hot ash subduing the algid night air.

A hill covered in a dark following,
a caliginous beauty site,—
In the uncut grass, trampled by costless hooves.
I was the ground crunched by a night’s dream.

My eyes shut; nervous by the shaking lips,
and cold sweats. It was beautiful,—
it was dark. It was wild; yet felt so freeing.
I was it’s witness, and conjecture.
I was in awe by beauty, but left breathless by
it’s haunting perception.

So was it a ghastly dream, or an alluring nightmare?

Till seasons come, and those that go,
in dreary skies, clearing forecast, and behind
clouds of snow. The sun still shines through it
all—true to personality, values, and spirit, regardless
of the pressures in the surrounding atmosphere.

Authentic as the day it was born,
authenticity—aren't we all authentic as the SON,
who will come again, as He came before!

It was the odd hours of a night when the phone rang with an awaited call.
I honestly thought I ran out of ways to love, thought I did it all.
Surely it was that odd point of time.
O'how my desires of holding you tightly were so real. Darling be Mine.

The stars lit up the dark skys and I mistook them to light up your beautiful face.
The phone rang and I immediately knew it was you. I held it with full embrace.
Once that sweet voice spoke, my heart's rythme escalated quickly to a new beat,
O'how that felt so taunting to me,  you had my love for you run down from the tip of my head down to my feet.

And I don't dream to change what has become to be,
Though there were many out there to be found by you, you found me.
After that I was granted the opportunity to fall deep in love with you till I reached the deeps of the Pacific Ocean.
Though I was not born to dance, my heart moved to your movement and every motion.

Love can't be measured by the ends of the short based millimetre ruler.
For that could only be an atom of that measurement. Yet to fill an endless jug, to make it fuller.

And you fill me up with something else, I fully not yet understand,
Still it matters not to me, for that one phone call is all I needed , all that I really had.

Let it ring a thousand times more.
Ring, ring, ring.

The hand, could do the heart's job
    Still a blind man's work,
  Would toil him to his death.

   All of his dues are robbed;
    A job always awaits him
   But to one who can't see,
How do they count their failings?

Who can run from responsibility,
    feet counting their steps?
Counting all; the amounts of it's due
      For debts to be soon met.

          Play it safe may open one,
   To be safely tucked away in graves.
         They seem to be a waste?

             But open your eyes,
             And be wide awake.

I value the lips to a modest dream
The fresh lipstick – outlining one’s imagination
In soft brush strokes; as the dreams of my child
Are quite distant nowadays, still silhouettes to a recent age
The metaphysical footprints of walking in faith, the path
It’s… so narrow on the trail of yellow grass; the sun is on
My back, like a long-legged shadow in this urban darkness

Questions bring up less of their answers- my life a riddled
Experience on a dusty path, where manure litters the street,
Pretending the smell is all so vague- but those **** flies!

I am alone, patrolling the ideas of one’s calling, beneath a
Crescent moon – from youthful screams, too loud to hear
The purpose to all my chaotic dreams: perhaps now,
I’m finally awake in the world, to see what it all means?

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

More of it lies!

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

I'm going round again for another tour!

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

Nowadays I'm just coping!

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

Don't give up on me!

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

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

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

But what is real!?

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

That's real!

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

That's real!

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

That's real!

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

That's real!

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

A true war to love.

Here's a story of a possible future, reminiscing on the work my
wrist would have done,— my next watch should cost me forty eight.
Two days later hearing my kids complaining about how they
barely ate. But it would cost me less if I had more fame; with
my biggest fear of people saying I'm not the same. Still I guess we'll only know when the times actually change.
Living in a mansion, telling a girl I'd like to live in her hand, just to buy rings to expand it more. Add a couple chandeliers just so she can see herself as an angel under her Lord. But truth be told, I could be on the streets, living in her heart only by corners of it. And she'd hate to ******* pride, cos I know it all tastes of *****.

Owing the credit to my success by every dream that owed a debit.
Thinking of it now, I'd be smiling in a much comfortable home,
knowing it's something I actually own. Telling people I did what I had to do, when my worries were knocking on my door with a lot dues. The uncomfortable conversation you make with your landlord when the rent is due,— but even with fame, society will come knocking to see what more you can bring... it's all nothing new.

I already have silent panic attacks, lying on my bed with open eyes, relying on tomorrow being a bit better. Still being alone in a mansion, waiting for a heart attack, as today's are already hectic, and tomorrow's all carry a lot of pressure. Would I really want to stop working, calling someone I sort of loved late at night when the Wi-Fi is actually working,— to tell them nothing in my life seems to be working.
"Was it all worth," she'd probably ask me. What could I say; I perfected my life but life still doesn't seem to be so perfect. Of how I found fame, but my identity is something I'm out here still searching.

The first to ****, regarding myself in first person,
by forty eight, dying alone without fulfilling his purpose. And your story becomes a lesson to someone in the third person. I guess I wouldn't have bought the watch in the first place; ticking away my life till it all worsens.

...So before I ever find fame, let me at least find my purpose.

The wake in your eyes still tells me that you’re tired –
trapped in the grip of haunting dreams even as the day
breaks with its hopeful light. There’s a sense of lifelessness
in you, as the slow decay in your eyes dims your vision…

In the midst of learning to love yourself, what value does
wealth hold when it only feeds the greed that festers within?
Your skin feels icy, like the jagged edges of rusted nails
brushing against mine…

If you can still muster a smile, let it be for yourself,
even if it stings. This smile is yours alone, born from deep
within. Maybe not today, but one day, you will find your
way back to feeling whole- A way back to me.