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Z Mar 2019
Poems is the way I express my life,
To show how what I love from what I like,
Hoping someone will hear me cry and lend a hand.
Poems help me be me when I stopped try,
The way I feel, the way I think and the way I fight,
Poems help me write what's right
Because it's only right to write what right,
And to penetrate the darkness and help force the light.
So it would shine throughout the world so bright,
Showing me the real from the fake like dollars lifted high in the light,
To keep good in my heart and all bad out of sight.
So I write what's right from those who don't want to keep the hype,
To educate, demonstrate and penetrate a real type of stripes,
That will spread across the minds of men leaving a stain of why I write what's right.
Z Mar 2019
How many friends do you have in total,
Not a question for me because I'm antisocial,
Or how many people do you acquaint with,
Not a question for me because I'm antisocial.
What about the new people you meet every day,
What do u say, are they your friends,
No a problem at all for me because I'm antisocial,
Z Mar 2019
Like a lone sailor lost at sea,
Like birds with no place to be,
Like knowing the truth but only lies they speak.
Reading the world and its people in braille,
It's like I'm blind but yet I see.

You can't understand every book you read,
You won't understand the purpose of every rock on the street,
Not even the movement of the humble breeze.
Reading the world and its people in braille,
It's like I'm blind but yet I see.

What's the preposition of the parasites and flees,
Or the viruses that infect and has a person unease,
Like leaves that grow and the fall of the trees,  
Reading the world and its people in braille,
It's like I'm blind but yet I see.

Like a friend who's always there for me,
And I neglect that person, forgetting to see that they are truly friendly,
Paying the price of when that person chooses to leave,
Reading the world and its people in braille,
It's like I'm blind but yet I see.

Like a slave stolen from a beloved homeland
put in chains without a chance by powers that be
lives routed by masters with no heart or soul but deceit and lies
Reading the world in the braille made by them for us the fools
It's like I'm blind but yet I see
Thank you
Z Feb 2019
Is it Hell's kitchen,
Where the demons be cooking,
Where all bad souls be looking,
Where evil dwellers are both masculine and feminine.
Or is it Heaven's door,
Where only the righteous shall enter,
Where God stands at the center,
Where holy men and women sit in accordance of the creator.
Is it Hell's kitchen,
Deep pass the abyss of fire,
Inside the cupboards of doom like tires.
Spinning, around and round, the cycle of liars,
And no one can escape eternity's fire,
That blazes hotter and hotter and getting higher.
Is it Heaven's door,
Far above in the firmament,
The Holy ones that dwell there, are up permanent.
To stay, watch and quide the righteous to a place of loving treatment,
And to mark done the names in the lamb book of life through pigment.
And the roads and houses he had prepared for us will be in honey, milk and gold,
So think holy, speak holy and do holy deeds to your saviour and preserve your soul.
Z Feb 2019
I woke up this morning,
Like Bob Marley said,
To the morning rising sun.
Thankful for the breath of life,
And for all the other things that come.

I woke up this morning,
To the morning rising sun,
Can't see the little birds.
But I can hear them singing,
Truely singing sweet songs.
Songs of love and a sign that they are living.

I woke up this morning.
To no pain and aches,
Thanking God for life,
Life, a lot in which the enemy can take.
Praying to keep me grounded and safe,
From all evil, who's wishing to destroy my faith.

So Thank him in the morning,
In the evening and in the night.
Because God never sleeps and for his children, he will never stop fight.
Z Feb 2019
Outside he smiles,
Inside he cry.
As humble as he is,
He still tries,
To make his dreams live but it dies.
And no one knows his hardest strives,
And no one will ever live his life.
So when you see him, he'll always smile.
To hide the pain and hurt inside,
And to help keep it from all of you'll eyes.
Because if you see it, there's nothing to like,
That's why his smile is only for a while.
So he smiles at you all the time,
Because he don't want you to see him cry.
And when they ask who's that child,
Its just me smiling, sitting by the side.
Z Feb 2019
Love love                  love love
Love love                  love love
Love love                  love love
Love love love love love love
Love love love love love love
Love love love love love love
Love love                  love love
Love love                  love love
Love love                  love love

                    Love
                Love love
              Love     love
             Love       love
            Love         love
           Love  love  love  
          Love   love   love
         Love    love    love
        Love                  love
       Love                    love
      Love                      love

      Love love love love love
      Love love love love love
      Love love love love love
                       Love
                       Love
                       Love
                       Love
                       Love
                       Love
                       Love

Love love love love love
Love love love love love
Love love love love love
Love love
Love love
Love love love love love
Love love love love love
Love love
Love love
Love love love love love
Love love love love love
Love love love love love
Actions speak louder than words, but in this case the words depicts what my actions can't show.
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