your body was shaking right after
you had ***. It wasn't from how it made you
feel, but just the disgust that you felt
—they call it regret

and it was so hard to breathe,
as it wasn't what you hoped it to be
as you were no longer what you have always been
a ***** intention; no wonder why you didn't feel clean
with these puzzles in these corner sheets,
you were looking for a piece of action,
—but now you're just a missing piece

    Sigh!

let your imagination run as wild as it can
but your mind could not fathom the pace of
reality. all the pictures in our minds are not
all so pretty in our head
sometimes it's painted in ugliness and stains
are what came, all painted in red
—the same colour of your bed

                    ...sigh

Not a fan of long hugs.
I naturally walk fast,
so it's hard for me to take slow
walks in a romantic park.

Awkward at love sometimes

Not one to give romantic kisses,
at times a hopeless romantic.
One who won't argue when it comes to dishes,
but when you ask me why I love you, I may panic.

Awkward at love sometimes

Not someone to hit the dance floor,
I have two left feet.
Don't go out a lot of times, being at home alone is my norm.
Feel shy at times when I have to greet, and overthinking a lot of things.
At times I sell myself short,
but I try not to sell you dreams.

Awkward at love sometimes

Not one to easily click with your friends,
give me sometime to get to know them.
Never had the experience of having so many girlfriends.
Feel like a five when I'm dating a ten;
and express my emotions better with a pen.

Don't cry a lot, but when I do it's not a pretty sight,
Don't get angry a lot, but when I do it even gives me a fright.
Dressing formal isn't my kind of suit,
shorts and long sleeve shirts rolled, is my signature look.
Don't like to think too much about the future,
and at times don't like being called cute.  

I'm awkward at love sometimes,
so much so it's hard to disguise.

So can I least find someone to be awkward with me too.

Two strangers at a party don’t know what to say
My dancing moves aren’t so great
Stiff as a cane
I feel so much comfortable at my place
Awkward start

Single to mingle
But don’t know how to act
Driving up the words, must of missed all the signs
Missing the signal
Stuck in a house with a crowd of party people
I’m stuck in the mud

And you’d say
That you want to runaway, so let’s get out of here
And not tell any of our friends
Leave them chasing their trends, I’ll be running fingers
Through your curly hair
Not so smart

Single to mingle
But don’t know how to act
Driving up the words, must of missed all the signs
Missing the signal
Stuck in a house with a crowd of party people
I’m stuck in the mud, had an awkward start
And it wasn’t so smart

In every petal lies a tale untold,
Of grace and power intertwined as one.
A world of wonder, fierce and yet so bold,
Where love and strength unite beneath the sun.
In these eyes – I’ve seen a woman’s world…

___

It’s a rose, enchanting, blooms with beauty rare,
Yet danger lurks within its soft embrace.
A tender touch of love, a whispered prayer,
But I ask if it has the strength to hold its place?

Still in quiet thought, I dwell and muse,  
As a man reflects on such; alas his worldly views,  
My words a burden felt heavy, and steep,  
For in such a world, my voice shan’t speak.

Bang! I surely heard the graze of conflicting thoughts;
setting a battleground across their minds.
Every word was in a blaring tone, as every
negative word the world spoke of it; was its
quick and merciless first fire.

Bang! Shooting down the innocence of
young, innocence that was held an infant—
still it hadn’t stopped man from killing them
in an instant. A snap of  a camera, of every violent
act played on the news, following every instance.

BANG! The gun grew louder to the crime that was
deemed by fighting for resistance. And how so will we
ever find peace in a world, if all our actions leave it
in so many broken pieces?

A body to face fatigue
All in a world of make believe
As love makes me weak in the knees
Also blowing my mind like leaves off a tree
Always missing the misfortune of someone's glee
As it seems common paying a fee to be free
And the R is really the real realness of all of we
As rhyming is easy, but the rhythm not as peasy
A little melted cheddar on a ****—all for anyone
calling my writing corny and cheesy

Be as it may, in my non constructive mysterious ways
Best believe I woke up today with some talent to display
Better to tell it as it is, maybe on the course of wordplay
Besides, life always feels like a game; to only be called strange
—to we all say oh, before an okay

Casually writing, and easily rhyming
Could be a next word of each line I'm deciding
Coarsely the can do spirit of striking another form of style, yet
we don't know if it's the same place of this twice striking lightening

Duality done by the dues of a dualing two
Doesn't make much sense in fighting a battle you're
always meant to lose

Excess mentality of my supposed masculinity
Exactly what it takes of a world to belittle me

For the focus of an unfocused mind lacks the right sight
Fixed enlightenment could mean being honoured on
the bright side

Galloping choices aren't the ones to remain stable
Goodnight kisses are of course a lover's choice,
of having butterflies by their naval

Hurry home to be whole on a homely manner
Homemade appearances don't share enough
experiences, even if being the best planner

I know my greatest faults, and I must admit
It is the hardest thing to speak out your failures,
even just a bit

Juggling time is liken to throwing it all for the air
Just don't be surprised when you don't catch it all,
and want to complain about life being so unfair

Kindness in modern times has become a self taboo
Knowing that you could give a hand, but they'd
always want something more from you

Laziness is all any one of us can share at a given
Lazarus could have laid in his tomb a little longer, but the call
of Jesus wasn't lazy, and both weren't too lazy to be risen

Money is the root of all evil
—perhaps to those buried in wealth
More as with selfish intent, only taking you to think
about yourself

None is greater than another if ever told
Neither can escape getting old, at once being owed,
and being owned by their own contradicting words of bold

Opposites do attract
Oppositions do want to settle things in a match
Opportunity is open to all hands; just learn early
on how to catch

Passive thought delays passion
Past mistakes tied to the mind, delays you massive
in doing an action

Quiet thoughts are a quiet night of all beautiful stars
Quality is the above all of quantity, when showing
exactly who you are

Rarely do you know your destination at the beginning
Revel in the journey, it's self discovery, and all the
lessons in your proceeding

Somewhat of our being wants to be something
Someone out there has it all, yet feels like nothing

Teeth help frame out a pretty smile
The same of which can frame out a disguise to
tell a pretty lie, once in a while

Under the skin of a sinner, is the skin of guilt felt
Unfortunately the guilt of some is all in vein,
to not have those sins swiftly dealt

Variety isn't always a guarantee of various options
Various people have their varies, but all depending
on various costings

Wailing about life is a life size whale in your mouth
Watch the words you say; you could drown people
with the pointless spit all coming out

X-Ray train your wisdom to see through deceit
Xylophone train your ears to hear the scale of hidden
meanings behind one's proud speech

Young were we all at a time
You yourself are the one to decide the end of your prime

Zero tolerance to those who say you don't matter
Zealous character is in high demand; no matter your
age, ***, upbringing, religion, and personality—you
are here for a reason, and not to be cut off from life
like a cancer

...as from A to Z, we are all special deep in our DNA,
                                                     both you and me

All the pretty summers getting a little dark
Reminiscent on all the girls who broke his heart
Battered and bruised by another battle scar,
Misjudged your heart;—pretending to know who you are

Locking demons, next to the skeletons in a closet
Questions of how he does it; to snip away time like
picking up girls with pretty flowers.
Knowing roses aren't always a pretty red, but the blood
stains of picking them up by their thorns
All their beauty and sounds, carefully arranged like poems

But he started off as the caterpillar before meeting
her butterfly kisses. Words flying high in air, and losing
breath complementing his Mrs.
Describing her by fruit shapes,— cherry cheeks,
a pineapple hairdo, and two plump peaches
Always treating you like a baby, and calling you cute
for giving her baby boy kisses

A little Miss info, the only one for you; dishing out info
by a saucer, at times over your head like a UFO
But you didn't know her dirt, even as you were down to Earth
a terrestrial, inhabiting this relationship often being absurd

             ...baby boy, it's been a while since you've kissed a girl

Darling can you meet me by the corner of this lonely man's heart,
Kiss me till forever let me love from this start.
I'll meet you halfway on my cloudy dreams,
We'll fly so far to other worldly places, surviving only on our lovely schemes.
Baby kiss me till forever when we losing all this time,
I'll be your knight in this Golden armour killing dragons to make you mine.

Baby smile for a moment, let  me see those golden eyes,
I'll tell you a secret, whisper it into your ears, my darling a man in love tells no evil lies.

You the thief of my heart, you stole it so many times,
Seeing stars everyday when I'm gazing at those eyes.
You the power to my heart, you give me all this strength so how could I die,
How I love you so much is so crazy, my darling I'm still wondering why.
I love you so much it hurts whenever I cry,
Tears hit the ground too many times to even reply.

So my darling just meet me by the corner of the lonely man's heart,
Baby kiss me till forever, because forever you'll be my one and only start.

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

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

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

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

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

I said goodbye to my baby tooth; it went away
with all my youth. Goodbye—bye, bye, bye.
In my mouth for too many years, and now it all
tastes like tears. Goodbye—bye, bye, bye.

You know were gone to soon, and you've always
been my favourite tooth. And then you went to
steal my youth. Oh my—my, my, my. Goodbye—bye,
bye, bye.

You've inspired,—despite. Despised,—you were mine.
At your prime,—inside. Outside,—you were mine.
Goodbye—bye, bye, bye.

And I could never get you out my mind; even if I
pulled and tired. Oh my—my, my, my. Goodbye—bye,
bye, bye.

Goodbye—bye, bye, bye.

Try to runaway to old childish memories. Playing the old block game, building things I wish I had.
The old lego toys with paint barely left in place on their faces. How right now I feel so sad.

Try to escape to when I had such a large imagination to escape to in my head's own world
Talking to the many Friends they could not see. Old paper planes I never learnt to fold.

Bicycles with no brakes but just the sole of my shoe and risks of my flesh
The many dishes I made with all the brown muddy puddles. Gosh it's all a mess.
We played games as we could be your Mommy and Daddy,
Sorry though child we couldn't afford you a Nanny.
So shut up and go to school while we'd be making you little siblings named Manny and Danny

To the days weird girls had me going crazy,
When watching TV was said to make me lazy.
When you had me puzzled, didn't know where to fit
When my stomach felt strangely good the first time we ever kissed.

When the only knot I failed to make was in a tie
When being so shy made me fail to greet someone new when they're saying Hi.

Every close corner being an adventure in my eye
The many cuts and bruises on my skin to tell the stories.  Childish memories always seem to make me cry.

I miss the imaginary friends and different vehicles my bicycle could be,
Thinking of such memories often feels like a fade. Alas the only the reflection I have is the left over bruised skin on my knee.

Alas I'm lost again in my Childish Memories

Who is that boy, with those piercing headline eyes – I tell you, he only
looks like bad news. His kiss is like a deep bass, a note shaking your
heart with the lies that plays from his lips. Yet, doesn’t he make you
feel older than you wish to be, as you love to think on nostalgia—
                         all those good moments you long to harness,
would you dare to be honest?

           Still, you defiantly love him more than me, or so it seems….

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

Bad mood 1

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

Bad mood 2

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


Bad mood 3

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

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

welcome to a bad religion
peers in pews of being a Sunday Christian
quoting common scripture;
commonly known as Bible bashing criticism
in an imperfect world criticizing you
for not being this perfect Christian

wishing Godspeed to those who rush
to that umbrella answer; "you don't pray enough"
living in the reigns of worship being entertainment for a heart
some blocking their ears from being cut by words
by a sermon so blunt

but how do you build strong character on soft words
and how could you test their foundation, without some force
as after you pray for patience; the devil loves to test
those desiring words, by a day feeling like the worst
still you forgot Jesus had spoken about woes

...doesn't it seem as far too see; modern Pharisees
we who speak about God, but do not love God
we who preach lively about God, but in with a dead heart
we who sacred a temple, but just because of their objects
we who teach a law, but not practising in turn those words
we who appear clean in public eyes, but so ***** in secret
we who act righteous, but hold onto a shaking hand with unrighteous
we who defend a reason not to ****, but ****** another in ill speak

...it's only a bad religion,
to us being such a bad representative

To say it's all mine in a field of past dreams,
it often turns into minefields
I'm so mindful of abrupt explosives thoughts;
in the silent words, and all of my feels
I put a chest to where there's a heart;
still beating myself over a past life
With a the ball in my court; I threw it
around just to pass time
- life's a game, that only the brave can freely play
and I don't have the ***** to do the same today

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

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

Storing up the blessing of sky;
Dry arid season is here,
A drought of love; nature's harshest,
5,000 years of stories,
Silhouette of a rural African experience,
you cover the vastness of her land.

"Tree of life"
Whereas the breath of man was origin,
Folklore; stories of our elders and tomorrow's wisdom,
We are all children of the sun,
Bright skinned under the cooling shade of time,
Time as long as a tree has lived, and lives on.

Lest we be wise to store up our stories,
What will our generations remember of us,
Baobab trunk; store up the provisions, love, stories,
Time, blessings, and fruits of our labour at heart.

Baobab tree; blowing the wind,
A symbol of life in harshest of times,
We adapt to our environment; people all to thrive.

It is our nature.

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

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

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

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

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

In the dimly lit bathroom, I find solace in my tears.
It is here, hidden away from the world,
that I allow myself to release the pain that
weighs heavy on my heart.
The worn-out tile walls, with their rustic charm,
bear witness to my vulnerability.

As I stand before the mirror,
my reflection distorted by the cascading tears,
I realize that counting my tears has become an impossible task.
They flow freely, like a river that knows no bounds.
Each drop represents a moment of anguish,
a fragment of my soul that I have let go.

Leaving texts on unread,
the mistake of replying in your head,
those silly little comments I tend to ignore,
Wasting myself; with my eyes on the phone.

'Why don't you come out tonight,'
they'll ask you when you're broke.
I scrapped a couple dollars last month,
just to find myself drinking all alone at home.

The inner introvert in me.

Thinks it's a waste,
to drink all night with shots to the face.

The outer extrovert in me.

Wouldn't want to seem antisocial,
but would probably order a coke though.

Just to dilute as a heavy chaser,
chasing the nights; while racing away
from yesterday's problems.
We've all got them?

Right?

Or is it just me; sitting on the floor in my
room at night,
Questioning things about life.
Trying to keep focus in the chaos,
telling myself, 'humbleness is being quiet.'

I'm really shy.

To anything knew,
I instinctively know I won't like,
balancing the worries of life,
With the constant reminders of finding myself
a wife.

I'm not that old.

Only to those who point it out,
who've done more at my age,
'I was a year away from marriage,'
           someone once said.

'Well good for them,' you've learnt
your difference; but still expect our lives
to be the same.

But I guess for this night,
I'm the introvert doing in my head,
up late; writing poems on my bed,
Hoping one of them becomes a trend.

But just for tonight,
I'm battling the thoughts in my head.

Again!

Untouched moments, untouched skins,
An untouched moon under one night’s
Ocean blue, and it was just us two.

Beachside sights, toes stuck in salty sands,
Life is an offshore view of foreign lands,
And I threw a watch in the waters to wash off the
seconds. Where sun and moon both kiss the same sky,
Is the light to the open gates of Heaven.

Angels with their great wings; are a soaring escape,
But narrow did this paradise seem afar in my eyes,
Two thousand tears fall, in life's heavy grey rain,
As kingdom come reins, we hold onto all that we have,
Holding hands together to say our daily Lord’s prayer.

“Our father, who art in Heaven,” a place love resides,
And with it the many blessings.
“Thy Lord be thy name,” we call upon Him to be saved
By His grace, gracefully still stuck on Earth.
“Thy kingdom come, thy will be done," I hold tightly,
In a prayer with my imperfect love.

Time is lost in all of a man's final words in death,
A beachside prayer, I'm washed of a past in new tides,
If I drowned in all of my regrets, don't let the anchor of
Sin keep me down at the bottom; Oh Lord. Amen.

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

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

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

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

If we peel away the pieces
of your mind,
Tell me what would we find?

Don't slip on your thoughts,
that are lurking inside,
you might trip over, perhaps breaking your spine.

Just bear in mind.

In open arms; these galloping seasons—
chasing after summer. A cold heart made of stone.
I'm torn: a ripped page; my appellation out of the
Book of Life.

Deathly wallows swallow my mind, as the
depressed eye looking at the pen as a knife.

An execution of a piece of paper,
bleeding out pain, and yells out in hurt.
Starved are these words—food for thought.
A penny for a thought, worthwhile taking time to
overthink, more often than the count to blink.

Tedious, hideous, a galloping chase—seemingly
alive. But I'm really just beating a dead horse.
Truthfully overthinking--does ****.

We're just beautiful tragedies
all trying our best to
make beautiful
memories

Discovering the art of truthfulness, as I rest on my bedside, I discover myself surrounded by a cushion filled with falsehoods, where it lies. It's a constant struggle not to shed tears, for my eyes are always overflowing with pools of emotions, drowning away any possibility of finding the inspiration of this word, “beauty”.

My empty gaze, incapable of hiding a disguise, hates the shallow beauty standards that society imposes. We often find ourselves falling aside, overshadowed by the captions that emphasize our flaws,—                 much like the petals that gracefully descend to the ground.

Even when people assert that true beauty resides within,                         life has a way of reflecting our insecurities, mirroring uncertainties and fears. I would sleep for a thousand days, just to dream of a better world,— a world that would regard me as their, “Sleeping beauty."

No, no, no...instead I will awaken to confront another day, on my own terms and standard. And I  bet the world would have plenty to say, but so few are their words, for me to let them spoil my mood today.

           I am beautiful!

BEAUTIFUL

He: not in the looks; inner or outwards,
neither words said or held out,
Seldom the blemishes or dimples,
make-up coverings; shades of red, purple, often blue,
The actions you take in response to adversary,
the seconds lost in the eyes of time—no.

You're beautiful for being you...
and the above are just accruing.

I am a poem in motion, in itself-
I strike an empty canvas; drawing out inspiration from
the library of experiences sitting on a majestic shelf,
“what picture shall I craft,” to showcase an unheard story,
an unsung song- “and what lines shall I once again cross”

Poetry has no bounds;- its never short of words,
its expression is wild; tamed by the artist’s pen- my sword
to fight against the marching violence in my mind.
My words- are all a part of me; they separate me from the
entire world, as I watch everything unfold into the paper
where I write down my thoughts.

[the poet-
is an outsider; a broken writer, who gets his fix from
his literature art. It’s an addiction, and a cure to my everything-
yet it’s still nothing. It is here, it is there, it is everywhere; still
it comes from nowhere.

[a poem-
are her words tender, but also so raw. They are the length of her
elegant body, they are short of breath- she is my answer, she is
my many questions, she’s a truth made out of my lies. She is
everything to my nothing

No poem is a mistake; every poem is perfect-
written by imperfect people.

Beautiful reflection; why do you seem so empty...
weighing your faith, yet your doubt overflows plenty,
plunging back into the abyss of your sadness—
your declarations of worth echo loudly, yet your lips
remain sealed, indifferent to the truth that aches to be spoken.

Beautiful reflection; why do you seem so empty...
Arms withdrawn from embrace, a gaze a sharp weapon,
severing ties to love, drifting like a forsaken leaf—
your words, mere shadows of substance, a hunger
that only leaves the soul impoverished.

Beautiful reflection; why do you seem so empty...
I should have come more often; would you expect me?
From the grime that clings to my skin, I sift through the
muck for miracles, offering a sweet smile that belies
a heart worn and weary...

Beautiful reflection; why do you seem so empty;
“cos I have gazed upon my reflection too many times,
as the glass being half empty.”

Cuts at the grass, in these fields
of abundant life. The beauty of little; is
the most we'd all appreciate.

And as I yield in the fields of their many flowers.
Beauty, is the something only belonging to the
particular eye. A keen to thought; as you tell yourself
'he or she, is so lovely,' in your head at first.

And as the sights capture your words,
the experience of beauty has you in it's grips.

Oh how an experience lasts a moment with
experience. The beautiful moments I've had;
how could I ever lose the experience?

The experiences of love, and heartbreak. Of healing,
and hurt. Of wholeness, and brokenness. And of having,
and not. The beautiful moments I've had; how could I
ever lose the experience?

I am the present character, from past experiences.
And the future character, from what I've learnt from
present experiences.

I find myself so puzzled, in a web of my own emotions; pieces of
your skin pierces at my tears. Until those tears dry over, I remain
unchanged, still the same man – clutching at those pieces of you in
my hand. The haunting whispers of your voice blowing in my mind;
though I'm not a fan. But love can't be so coincidental, it has its cons
of density; a weighty significance— no matter, you still matter to me!
Still, when you spoke of making this love last, I pray you didn't say
it with lust.

And to fall in love is to tread softly; so let me down easy for the sake
of this soft heart. Even if I possessed the key to your heart, I would
still ask for your permission to let me in — to accept me as I am;
knowing we both sin. As your very breath, is inherited in a kiss
underneath my lungs; killing me slowly, a slow demise orchestrated
by the symphony of your love. Being the piece of oxygen trapped in
your glove —would you hold onto the memory of us, just for a little
long?

Circling my devotion around your name like a wedding ring; ruling
over my thoughts, my mind has crowned you Queen. And on this
battlefield of love; I'm fighting just to prove my love – processing
my words like processed foods; desperately hoping to nourish your
soul with every word.

It seems as though I've known you before; where in these past lives
we had lived — it feels like I've grown out of my old ways; and it
feels like you were that very seed. And if I'm to settle down, I need to
settle my old regrets. And if I'm to write out all of my wrongs, give
me some time to repent. And perhaps we'll be perfect lovers, if we
learn to love each other like friends. Yet, despite our efforts to be so
perfect for each other; we'll still remain imperfect in the end.

                                                           ­                       Beautifully flawed.

Beautiful moments...
  are the ones you choose;
        to make...

We're all in this picture of
life... our eyes do frame.
I've lost much today...but there's
others, to make some gains.

   The joys of a life's story;
rests on the flip of a page...

Beautiful moments...
  are the ones you choose;
        to make...

Never forget; where exactly
you came...all those tragedies;
that gave you shape.

Those tears, and their strains;
   the times.. you weren't so
            keen to pray.

Beautiful moments...
  are the ones you choose;
        to make...

Do pray...especially when;
you don't feel like it today.

Why start at being perfect;
when you haven't
mastered...being okay?

Why carry; the entire weight
of the world...just hold onto;
  the words you could say.

In your life's everyday...

Beautiful moments...
  are the ones you choose;
        to make...

I have a feeling, a beautiful pain caught inside my heart,
And never have I found the right way to let it out.
It stays it's course, riding around the many emotions I hide in my heart.

It's a beautiful pain.
Hurts to give away,
hurts to share, nor to borrow.
Leads to unfamiliar places, and begs me to follow.

It festers in my soul, grows beautifully like a red rose.
But it's a black rose, a flower that has a sting.
With sharp thorns to ***** through me, and it's my Beautiful Pain.

And I'm unashamed by it's nature, or it's true name.
A wild plant in the forest of danger, a wild plant that only I can tame.

So I have a Beautiful Pain, so much beauty it hurts me dearly.
And clearly you wouldn't know what it is, for it ain't yours to own or know.

It's my Beautiful Pain all alone, and all on my own.

| Like lightning in your veins;
     you'll strike down the enemy
   The stars in your eyes;
      be with the brightness foresight
          
  The sun in your mouth;
    display summers in your smile

  All the beautiful things,
    all the while makes us all so beautiful

                                                I see beautiful people. |

I am an equal

—yet still
Divided by the
opinions of others

Still it subtracts
nothing
Of my worth
ten times of what
Appearances are,
I am hundred times
bolder than I was before

For underneath the surface
of stars
Beneath my skin I am
the multiples of stories
In constellation of every
journey, every line and dot

I call these many stars
my many beautiful scars

And they are truly who I am!

Roses on our bed;- final remarks
on it being an attractive grave;- as for us, being in
love is to be slaves, owned by chaotic emotions.
And under the blackness of your eyes— is a pain clear
as day; confess to yourself dear love; how you worshipped
forcefully laughing through your pain.

I had worshipped every tone of your laugh,
never knowing that it represented you feeling so
breathless, constantly down the wrong path- every day,
every minute you pretended to be okay- every hour I blindly
believed we were both okay.

You ever met the idea of beautiful & tragic;
when she calls you handsome but your pride to her seems so average.

You dated her black, but she seemed more like a blonde; she still believes there’s magic in love—she called your long ward a wand.
And that’s why she fell in love.

                                                               ­                 It’s tragic!

You ever met the idea of beautiful & tragic; she said she made a pass on all the other guys, but calls your attitude out, for being so passive.

Some words feel so raw, before it harms. She wants it served raw, and for you to pound her guts, like pounding alarms.
She says your character is ugly, but she still loves your charms.

                                                        ­                         It’s tragic!

You ever met the idea of beautiful & tragic; you try to dress all of your words to sound so lovely, but it all seems so old fashioned.

You ask yourself, “what’s wrong with love,” even when it’s not found. She doesn’t spin enough times in your head, so you give her another round. You’re both now filled with pride, but only one of you
is feeling so proud.

                                   She was Beautiful, & you were Tragic.

How do our lips
closely rhyme with kiss,

In between a tongue with a hiss,
to submit so foolishly to this bliss

Ignorance as it is;
equally split in those slithering words
mixed with both our spit

All those beautiful wet lies, a crime we love
to speak in a stolen kiss

"I'm the sweetest"
so said the grapefruit by it's looks,
"I'm the most mature"
so said a sour big grape hanging on,
"I'm the tastiest"
so said an apple with a worm in the centre.

Oh the denial of beauty, alas it's subtleties
are just a bite in moments.
But what fill does it have,
of it's tastes?

Utter no word,
rather have your heart be the one to speak.
The beauty in your silence can calm the winds of it's many tiny whispers,
A beautiful artifact in the treasure of love,
so be like a jewel in the eye of true worth.

For I only say this to remind you of you're worth,
And never let any man think of you any less,
nor let any other compare you to perfection.
No one in this world is that perfect it,
but everyone in it are all worth it.

Utter no word,
rather let your beauty echo out what wishes to be heard.
Let the echo bounce back into the ears of the very people who need to hear this song,
And let us sing along with you till the waking of new Dawn.
Flesh will grow old, but this Beauty inside will forever remain so young.

Utter no word,
for your soul is the one to speak,
As it speaks so highly of you.
Why then should you be so low.
Or incapable to love, when you already love yourself enough.

Barely would a whisper have spoken,
still the words themselves can't be enough to describe your Beauty,
The only few words you need to hear is,
you're so Beautiful.
So don't close yourself on the notion, just constantly keep that heart open.

This child has the strength like their father,
the gentleness of their mother,
And with your own abilities it makes you like no other.

Who holds no regret to the odyssey of their beauty,
and never grows tired on their feet as they head towards there.

So walk your Journey. Walk along this Beauty's Odyssey.

I’m in a drought for time— yet flooded with ideas.
as the sun rises with the dust, and by dusk, all hope
feels spent, or quietly scattered.

I know destiny calls— even without a map, signal
or a location marked. "Yeah, I don’t know what
I’m doing," I often confess, in quotation marks—
still walking toward the shape of who I’m meant
to become.

Pushing through bruises and bitter slights—real joy
flickers, but most smiles still feel perfectly rehearsed.
To stay above the arrows, but never ahead of myself—
sharp enough, still, to pierce through the soft fabric
of my many, many daily doubts. And I’m learning:
sometimes the cage has no door— but only the illusion
of one, built from fear.

There’s always a world just outside of it— waiting.
We’re all just finding ourselves day by day.
And life? It’s one day after another— until, finally,
you recognize the person you've been becoming
all along.

Sleep now my little baby,
as the night whispers to you a sweet lullaby
Under the stars tonight,
bright dreams will keep you warm inside.

Sleep now my little treasure,
drift off into a peaceful sleep
In this quiet night where everything sleeps,
you won't hear a sound, nor a creature peep.

I'll tuck you in tight,
these warm blankets will comfort you all night.
The Sun has set,
the moon is up from the west
Your bed a nest,
sleep now my little baby
And find your rest.

Off to dreamland now,
I'll light the way
I won't make a sound,
till then, I'll meet with you the next day.

Goodnight my sweet,
and sweet dreams to you.

Canvas eyes; picture painting
—masterpiece
Ink kisses, imprints of love
on a cheek
Linen hair, sheets of bedding
thoughts resting on your head
Pick-up hugs, lifting power
and grips of the trunk
—bottom hug temptations, non pretend
beforehand, wrapped arms and touches of a love
                         it's all such a rush: favourite hug

Mountains high,
dreams once resting on the peaks.
Too fast asleep,
in this wake of chaotic peace.
How much so,
must I love to contradict?

Winds blow together,
tickling underneath my feet
Brushed away in thought,
deep enough to sweep.
Taking a risk,
to stand by the edge.
If I fall before hitting the ground,
will I somehow be dead?

Where do I even stand?

By the ledge of a mountain,
I'm soon too drop.
The high tensions that built this rock,
are all the things I've lost.

A Lover, a friend, reasons,
many things closet to my heart
But down as I am,
I need to stay strong

Before I even drop.

how i know i can't swim,
we somehow drifted apart
and i could have taken the advise of Moses,
and split the waters in between us in two,
-but tell me if love wasn't made for two
while i butter you up with sweet words
to have you as a spread
still feeling anxious as two ticks of
a message, still unread.

.....tying, tying,
i still doubt i'm your type,
that sort of guy you like cos
he liked you first,- you must call me cute
and i feel myself trapped in an  unwelcome
phenomenon -really feeling acute
but if you could feast on my eyes, you'd
fall prey to your hunger, if i gave the right look.

maybe i should tattoo my words
for their intentions to stick
but even a subtle taste, bite and a lick,
can at times overstep the tingles rushing
down to your feet. so i do prefer to kiss
but before the kiss, tell me if we'll be
trading skin for skin, or shedding skin off skin
cos we both know kiss will always
rhyme with hiss.

In a round space of time,
everything seems to spinning in my mind.
So broken inside,
strangely enough, still alive.

Times are unfair to me,
as they are too plenty.
In the fullness of the world,
you wouldn't be surprised to find one empty.
He who has a void,
a sinking hole in the very chest,
Lest you know how to fill a black hole,
you'd only really waste away zest.

All think to medicate
is a way to an escape.
Perhaps in the moment it's a feeling of bliss,
before the feeling dissipates.
I'm high off on life,
maybe that's why I'm not feeling so great.

Counting demons inside of
my head.
Too many to count,
feels like a Hell hole,  
But that's not how I was made.

So let me pick myself up,
and wipe them off.
Before you're too far off,
right on the edge of life, ready to fall off.

Going out passing judgements,
take a look at yourself,
Like passing out fetor flowers,
quick to check if you yourself don't smell.

A summer experience, all the time while
the kisses were bright—in warm regards.
The careless fall; we'd spring up a conversation
on talking about love. And how you fell for my
charms.

Retracing scars of past loves, (so few actually)
still I've been gunned down by such a handful
of quests. You'd see those marks on my arms.

By far—I'm no perfect romantic. The type to
chance his chances of the first awkward advances.
My wit to say, only comes out of less pressuring
moments. To impress you only when we've known the
shape of each other's humour.

I was a late bloomer. The sort of nerdy kid, throughout
school. Constantly anxious to impress a design on; as
a daily tool. And as usual, too full of myself thinking
I was overly too cool. But really just full fled fool.

So when we met, it was my season of necessary
growth, in the journey of my life of a revelation's show.
Questioning self worth, the ways of the world, and
YouTube videos of how to kiss a girl. And the highest
being what is means to be a man. Soft with the emotions
compared to others, and finding it hard to fit in with their
clan.

Before you met me, I was teased for walking like a
duck. Yet you told me I walk with such confidence,—
but I was a chicken towards standing out, that you could
hear a cluck in my gulps. I'm still the type to start a
conversation with, "what's up"

As being up to no good with other people my age,
but none at the drinking age of the clubs we snuck in.
Still at an early stage, I learnt I wasn't that big on going
out clubbing. But a few drinks at home, good food for at
home and sometimes drinking alone was more my norm.

Before you met me, it was what you'd call my BC days.
Still I went to church from a young age, but the Lord
wasn't the first call to hard situations. Or even ending
my prayers with a, "in Jesus name"

I'm still learning more about myself present day,
and that's okay. Because the learning experience never
ends until we're dead. So there's more to my story by
every new turning page. I might seem strange, but all
in all—I'm glad of the person I became. And the After is
beautifully being discovered today.

             I'm glad I discovered you.

A whisper in between lips-
To increase as we kiss;
as I do miss the times,
Love; easy to find like words on lips,
But the sounds of love to I, all amiss.