Roses and Gold chains
Living ones life stained, and there’s no time to moan-a-lisa
But try this, listen: allow this blues of love to touch your ear
Let the past be just a memory and not a future gate locker that will shut you out from happiness
Drink in the soul soothing, smooth blend of guitars and harp harmonicas intertwine with the inner drums of your heartbeat
Feel the ocean your closed ears bring to life and let that tranquil calm state coexist with the depth of the soft minor chords brought to life by the;
Gentle hands as that of  potter massaging the clay till it takes shape, and submit to the tender dominants, stroking the clay from top to the lower parts
The movement starts on a slow, and the movement increases as the two blend, and the hand is by now smooth sailing on the smooth creation
Allow the blues to be the potter of your humpy, and rough countenance that’s been disfigured
And made mushy by incessant rains that haunt this once floral mind,
Turned to a graveyard, having rusty gates, making it appear even more grisly
Invite the sound to transfigure your inner self to a cherubim that is snow white; this might seem like Childs play and what if it is?
You watched them when you were young and all you need to do now is to believe in them
Hope to be bluesed than bruised
And i know that staying in tune is not as easy as being off tune, but;

Twist and turns,
bruised and hurt For having faith, accused of being fake
But still I stand, enduring till the end
Martyrs try to polytheis' this Being, but Deep within lives a king,
don't get it twisted this is no fiction
And so my vision is clear,
vinni da viccii my portraits are vivid
Never mind those who try to mimic, this perfect image
Pay homage to the soul typing this
Whose focus is never shifting,
even though emotions tend to be changing When twists and turns arrive
I think God, Demi gods or polytheism
But I don't want to pass no criticism
No I don't, and I do have my reasons
Spring, summer and autumn and winter aren't jealous of each other
Everything has its time and season, I've been thinking
Everything used on earth has a maker
The additional beauty, you add using make-up
And the melody, helping you wake-up every morning
I know my maker
____________

Twists and turns

We crossed paths
I crossed a line
You crossed me off your list   
                                                      f
                                                  f
          ­                                    o
  
     W                                e
          e                   ­      m
        
               c               d
                  r         e
                    o   s
I     c    r    o   s    s   e   d     a     l   i   n  e
                   o   s
                r         e
             c             d
    
      u                       p
   o                            a
Y                                 t
                                     h
                                       s

If only i could die in my sleep and I wake up to my dream.

I don't wanna know reality.
I just want to be carefree.
Live on the edge with no needs to strategically plan a plan B.
I just want to live in this utopia eternally,be able to harvest in the grape vine which isn't a resemblance of rumours.
Run with my bare feet in strawberry fields.
Don't even tell me what stress is. Let the wind whisper to my soul as I stand placid.
I close my eyes and drift in celestial realms, just to be observant and admire..not to quest.

The luminescence of the sun screamed "wake up!" to my eyes. I tried to keep them shut
reality kicked it as I dreaded waking up. I sighed "life".

Words mean a lot, though miss used a lot
And so I thought why not, type-out my thoughts
At the age of twenty, I fought a lot and I lost
Submitted to reality, thanks to life for this munity
I quarrel with this world to find my golden state, but
Even in the golden age, this imperfect being still remains
Yes I grow with age, learn from my mistakes
Expelling all the weeds, growing and suffocating this angelic
Creation
So when I wake-up,
stare at mirror, moisture my skin with perfumed lotion
With the attempt to adorn this temple...
Close to Goodness yet far from purity
at times I may be white, till my robe is  painted with mud
I'm only human, and yes I fall, but get back up
This life is rough, behind the smiles and all the love
Remain deep scars, this life is tough, but I still laugh
Endure the harsh times, and all the storms
If I be iron this structure would be corroded
Filled with rust, burying, who I really am All my imperfections, lust lack of trust, sometimes lack of love, and all the scars can taint my soul

Flawless Imperfectionist