you crumpled your ******* and put them in your jacket
in a parking lot, in his car, in the cold.
you'd covered your nakedness with his blanket
like Eve with the leaves as the stories was told.
although you had anticipated the outcome of the night
you'd planned to go.  
you had prayed numerous times for the cup to pass
from your hold.
but when the night got cold, eagerly you had fold.
like Isaac in the bible, we meditate out in the fields
for someone to come comfort our souls.
Our father knows this, for Rebekah is on the road.
how long do we hold on for this love to be behold?
our eyes are dropping, setting the like sun.
patient is dismounting from our caravan for the trip is long.
lust is slowly uncovering its veil
will complacency and mistrust prevail?
will we open those gates to change the course of fate?
so now you bent your knees to *** in the cold.
in an alleyway with the lights on your face.
for from this day, you had done a deed
that cannot be unchanged.
it's not like anything changed
God still loves you all the same.
but there is condemnation, and there is shame
going through your brain.
But it was fun and you might do it all again.

I live in the first century of the clone wars
most morning we’d wake up swiping up.
the new papers don’t arrive no more
because the news pours out of various device
interrupting morning thoughts, selling
us products to own more.
we think sophisticatedly but stay
closed off.
happy to be clones, to be sold love.
living vicariously through actors, models
or influencers who show more.
we think they are intelligent, they brave enough
assuming they know more.
consider the singular ways we live
consumed by our individualism, our greed.
consider the trees
and the many people who
puff this **** to cope on.
each year, iPhones get expensive
while screen light darkens the truth.
I rarely write with a pen if i don't have autocorrect
but I am a graduate, a grown up.
I am reconciling with this spell
from upon which i proceed
but this war still goes on.
imagine we find each other, then construct
mutual peace instead of flashing lightsabers
because we are so tough.
imagine we say our piece
while pinning respect on our sleeves,
then step out the street to hold hands.
its only the first century of this clone war
yet we are exhausted, from everyone
being so right and i wonder if we ever
gon slow down.

There is too much ice in this lemon aid
too much responsibility we'd ought not to take
if you wonder who "we" are
its best not we say.

In my birth-land they crying desperate for change
so they pack the street to advocate
only to be hit with straights.

there is too much at stake
the pastor say the world is on its last days
but to live and get older, isn't that our mandate?

The truth is as uncomfortable as wearing mask with eye-aid
those who wish to see have to endure the fog
there is much worry about the 1% prone to be affected
while the 99% are on parole and neglected.

Note, if you speak out of sync
you also will be hit with a straight.
its not only my birth-land that needs reforming.
best watch out where you stay.
echo chamber thicken up the walls
we all live in a safe.
opting to hear what we want them to say
maybe this is the beginning of a new dark age.

the first time I saw him I noticed an oddness about him
like that of a villian marked for death
no matter how try he to redeem himself
his next act broaden his mark, deepening this spell

I know death comes for everyone
but for him, death seems to already be there
those who work with him knows this
and stay very clear

he also, is aware of his spell
and the reject from the others
so he cons them like a villain marked for death
but can he con death?
can he con the mark set on his face
when he stares at the mirror, to see an image of himself

sometimes he worries
other times he doesn't seem to care
and it's during those times
when he seems not to care that
we laugh and wonder
"how does he live with himself?"

I have been tasked with the responsibility to lace the delicate fabric of my country
and at times, I toy with it.
coaxing its future with ballots purchase from a one-time-meal ticket.
striking deals with its days and
crowning the history I have chosen to stay.

I am no stranger to the intended walls placed all around me
by the ghost of the passed.
nor am I a sojourner
for my ancestor were born and fell into chains in this land.
The same land kept unpaved and deprived
thick with mud and thicker with thieves.
From a worthy beginning of proudness and freedom
our demise proceeds.

Why should I ignore my instinct to survive?
when the eyes that accuse me, envies me
wanting me to think like them
but would be very much like me
if tasked on this path.

Our future I assume, is mine
and steadily inflates with cries of the market mongers
and that of the child left to find work, or else
left to die.
A scrutiny I comfortably become unaware of.

I know very well of my crimes
and very well of their accusation, that is a lie
and very well of the difficulties that separates
the truth from the lies, when it all brews in the cauldron
that is time.

Nevertheless, far be it from to me
to let them open my memories and
perceive my face,
to let them learn my alphabet and
understand my takes.
Far be it, that the blade of virtue
make an incision on this hide that is my skin
because those who stand naked are seen
and never wins, for that is not how
the game that decides all our fate is meant to be.

These politicians
dance with their words
and sing with their eyes
then you give them your vows
although you know they have lied