under the heat
the beat
your love
can hold
a seat
no matter what
defeat
the rhythm in which
you seek
a feeling to
a peek
is a concerto
without the huit
crucendo turned
a leaf.

love drifts between you
and me like a musical sea
and civilisations thrift  shamrocks
to hold us both close
trees are happy to pose

sincere
infidelity
such a trick
on sincerity
it is easy
to mimick
but not
so  when it ******
the marks it leaves
are sticks
tattoos of a fix
to remind you
that yellow
subsides for shallow
red
to tell you
off when said
and blue
to constantly hue
any chances of you
doing it again.

i am a determined
young man
with nothing but my
aim
my shoulder
and my name
i envisage to race
ideasl with a face
encouragement is main
nothing would do to reign
but i never take
lame
to be a begrudging game
there is more to
the same
more and more
with a tame
but not to filtered blame
to equal less and less
apprehension weighs
why pick up
when you base
measurement with a case.
freedom may want to laze
but i wish it to raise.

i am besotted
the scale of your
love
transports
me
beyond the space
where
time is a pace
and i with it race
catch me
love you back
with a haste
such enchantment
is ace.

little words
big tale
wishing the pale would hail
the title looks so frail

speech to an impediment
wheels
but to a feel it heals
Socrates is kneeled.

a sweet moving thought
it takes me back and forth
long memories are sought
to write me up a fort
I am to it all fought.

I am an aircraft
and you are my wings
let sail
together
and the skies
will be our
tales,
love will feel safe
so high it can trail
and time will scale
to an infinite
amount  the stars will feel
pale.
prodigy is ailed.

don't be
scared
when life tells
you to try
it is because it
cares
it wants you
to do best
at everything you dare
without you
life is bare
spare a thought on air
it will fill you up a stare.

you try hard
and you fail
it does  not matter
how much
so long as you have more
to keep you going forth
the world is a your thought
don't give up yet
life's old
only if you say it
cold.

to laugh at defeat
you must sing it
a beat
and evertime its feels
the heat is depleat,
blow trumpet at it
it will hear it
and quit,
the sound to it grit
naturally it'*****.
and when sometimes
you think
you've had enought of it
play it a piano
strict
each note you unhit
will glide it a stitch
truncheon sit and glit.
music does it fit
calm as a mozart huit.
a soprano seis
never felt so bate.

self importance
can be taught
but not
bought.
money stage
but does not phase.
and so it's ace
it is free to pace.

the art i feel
is part of our daily
smart
to do it heart
we must start
realising
light
is part
bright
and part
might
darkeness
to it
guises
and starks
empty comes
out white
the two do not right
speechless is swiped.

when you make an impression
on people
they literally tickle
that is because they never felt
that way.
imagine when you say
they could almost pray
to silence the day
to just hear you stay.

when your days
are numbered
you keep to a standard
you like everything you
did not
and you get back what you
hadn't
imagination fathom
time ticks crucial
it does not let you
you down
it focuses until
you rowd
you  give up
you  had a bout

but when your days
are prelimenary
you carelessly
tick
list
intentions
to a miss
unknowing
is your forte
to unrest
everything seems
less
not enough
time slowly slips
to dictation
it strips
and you grip
going back
is a dip
you are not ready
to nip.

guilt,
to an impression
it's a fierce
cloudy tierce
a sound to it
pierce
but to a feeling
it's a rear
winding sear,
a songe
would
hear
a silhouette
pear.

guilt,
a wave
to it
steers
but the force
with it
nears.
you feel
mere and
empty
with tears,
an illusion
would clear
the fear is
so dear.

above a cloud
there sails a loud
it's happy it is
not about
it likes to have
its way allowed
so of it goes
to never lowers,
sunshine may doze
but sky is froze
to such a rowd
nothing does bowed
then to send it
out
to where it's nought.

the abyss
in which you steep is deep
come out of your
keep
and see if you can leap
outwards to the horizon.
the sky appears
to sleep
when you weep,
only when you look up
time has truly
broke up
to a sheer blue
to rev up your view
you could almost
flew.
downwards is never true
see up for a clue
you are almost due.

the nearest thought to myself is love
to have a feeling is to have a meaning.
the next bestest close is trust
to lead one another is plus, the reason i must.
what is left, the rest,
is counterbalance ,emphatic. static is erratic.
and to that
i can only discount lust. it messes with my first.

lover overs hate
it could
almost plate
a silver lining
blade
the shine is
fade
but the sharp
is trade.
let it all
sail
the aggravation
bail
and it shall
wound hail
to a snowy pale.
crystal sparkles
stale.

the silence in
your voice
is like a storm
in the cold.
when it thunders
the sky renders
a fidgeted cloud
wanting  to rowd
away to a bout.
it moves random
looking to stardom
wishing the rain
would fall.
and when it does
the calm
traps
any remaining  of the stabs
the weather
had dabbed.
the return of the sound
a musical
found
is perfect to  accompany the mind.
when you open up
and say
it is proud
all the things you 'lowed.

it is impossible
to let you go
and yet you
flow
away  to
slow
never to grow
an inch
of sow.
life had
you fro
it knew
you'd go.

I approached you with a smile
and let you off
a mile.
i had you with desire
and saw you with admire.
it neither tracked
nor hired
but all the same it
fired.
you neither were
nor went.
my feelings to you
soured
you never had them powered.
to see you off was
mild.

night time
falls
and light time
tolls.
I cannot wait
for the day
to launch.
to see the sun
is my perfect
fun.
no pleasure measure
nature is my leisure.

under pressure
terminates leisure
quit it
whether
it is loud
or rather.
no need to
whack
when it
can tact.
time
to sack
is the perfect slack.
let it not
flack
when it
can pact.

when
simple praises
difficult
it is because
to deep
and typical
it is flawed.
it sees itself
caught between
naught and bolt.
it would concern
if it did not
sault.
complex would
eventually jolt
the pressure is too
haught.

life according to me:
it is neither
black or white
nor gris,
it is pastel
pris,
colours of free.
transparent
is we.
a painter's
plea
to it
is key.
without it
he will never
be.