Benign, benevolent ballerina bubbly bathing by beautiful blossoming balsams.

A gander I took and I was a statue, still, allured, and enchanted. my lips basted by beauty, before her I was an apparition, lost in forests of adulation.

A vanishing spirit soon to be a vestige of a vestige. I shall wage wars, arm myself and battle my way to her hands that can melt the glaciers residing in my heart.

Eyes pierce through the empty space you occupy. Silent echoes, your vocal renounced by the wind. Standing at the shore of waves and storms, you surrender to the inevitable as the sun rises.

.                      *
                            The
                            Xyr-
                       ­    -esic
                   Steel of justice
             Real and unfogiving
                        Cutting
                        through  
                        Foes  of
                        The thr-
                       -one pro-
                       - tecting
                        Friends
                        F­orever
                        presev -
                        -ing pe-
                          -ace
                             .

We are young men buried in books
Shoveling words every day
As we are gradually shaped into tools.

Ours minds drained deep in the pools
Of knowledge. So they say
We are young men buried in books.

We find ourselves caught in hooks
Of wisdom seekers shall we pray?
As we are gradually shaped into tools.

Exhausted, some will turn into crooks
While we proudly remain grey
We are young men buried in books.

We bear fruit of hope from the roots
Of pain so follow the rules we lay
As we are gradually shaped into tools.

Are we zombies in schools?
In our paths we never stray.
We are young men buried in books
As we are gradually shaped into tools.

I don't care any more
nor do i care any less
but i'm your lover, not your *****
and you're the reason for this mess

Parading your **** like you're in command
I have limits to your inane nonsense
I'm finally making my stand
No longer giving out to your reasons

I will stand tall, no matter what
Shape up and become a Man
Quit thinking below the waist
and treat me like I know you can

Empty vessels would clang the most
Never exercising the need to be humble nor coy
You're an underachiever with the penchant to boast
You were never a man, but a childish little boy

But, no matter what you have done or who you have become, i still see the passion within you
I see a pure love that we have created, one that is so true...
Although you have made many mistakes in the past
I am still sitting here willing to stick around for this love i know will last...

for ever and until the end
until they lay us six feet under
hand in hand as we die
i will be your lover

a lover to cherish the ground you walk on,
even when you stumble and shake,
i'll be your first in command,
because with you, there is too much at stake.
i want to be that lover,
who awaits in adoration of your arrival,
that one lover,
who loves you until our love is final.

I carved my chest and gave you this heart.
We flowed through the nile and overcame ocean tides.
A seed of bliss you planted in me and our love was born once more, leaving me scarred.
I thought you were proud and passionate but the truth was cloacked by your lies.
You dined with others while I recovered.
I resent you but appreciate the gift of new life that we have, this bond we share may never break,
for it's the only bond that makes us care.

Kissed by God she is love itself, untaintend by ways of man.
In the world of the dying, she spreads her love, replenishing broken hearts.

In her alluring eyes, you can gaze at the universe as it unfolds.
With a ballet of stars along the milky-way.
Singing life's song as the mystry fades
Joined by those who sleep in hope
Revived as they come to know.
life is love

.          IF I WERE A POET

                             The
                     First stanza
                     would be a      
       magnatic attic captivating
            Elegant architects of
                     iridescence  
                        Vividly
       propelling pupils to edges
                 Of the schleras        
        Compelling pens to pages
                    of new eras
    

            IF I WERE A POET
                                
                         ­              The
                              Second
                 Stanza would
             Mirror Zues's
          spear slicing through
        tears drowning in clouds
         striking fields of pens
                        Egniting the
                    capsules of
                 Variegated
               Lands


            IF I WERE A POET

                            The
                     Last stanza
             would sail summers
           tame winters bathe in  
         springs of autumn praise  
           deeds of the monarchs
           reigning over raining
           rainbows nurturing the
         clouds planting wings on
       the ground giving free will
          to plants to seed the sky  
           with warmth and love
                of nature's heart.

Reap a reaper,
riddle a riddler,
Out-think a thinker
while watching a man who
still steals steel
find peace in a
pierced piece,
as he see seas
that are ceasable.
laughing at laughter because it's laughable.

Risk seeking
to seek risking
so you can feel feelings
of love for a lover
because they're lovable
while realising that in reality they are not reliable
They get sensitive
about sensitivity
is that sensible?
Questioning questions
that are not questionable.

End at the beginning
or begin at the end
to rest restfully as you
dream dreamfully about
articulating art artfully.

My life is foretold in every crevice of this universe,
in serene seas, and swaying sands,
in scorching degrees and holding hands,
with a lover in my longing arms,
fires raging, and yet i am sheltered from harm.
and throughout my journeys,
it is my deepest desire,
to ignite and set my ambitions on fire,
in the midst of euphoric dreaming,
with my lover on this late summer's evening.
and i shall be at one with the stars,
and my doors in life shall forever remain ajar.

Walk into this space it is endless
sublime congruence with the heavens
open is the third eye looking directly at abyss
i feel a divine hint on my skin
as if it were a celestial kiss
there is no need to travel in doubt
it is written across the evening canvas
open the gates of exotic awareness

It is writhing, it is gifting, entrusting me, and quaking,
yet I, within mine, remain still.
Fore be it told, and beneath footless form, it's subversive,
yet, I dance a sure tango, uphill.
I must be sure, so sure not to mind lone notches and disparity,
as crevices, you see, they arch to transverse.
Fearing but forging the depths of what is migration, we say,
from this hallowed tangle be my rise, my verse.

I’m floundering, I grant, when I think I hold discovery,
so, I tug at the rein of imprint and plan.
It is here my beloved reliance, my precious doubtless tread
is afforded the fair crossing of Pan.
So, although it contests and chides and outreaches,
I am in love and as love, an apprentice.
A conquest won, no never, but here, a concession, a regard-
I am, with no poet’s journey, amiss.**

Lilting ebulliently in ineffable fields of ecstasy.
Mellifluous waves, in life's voyage,
inure us to pulchritude paths, refined by old age.
Multifarious, nascent jubilant days, swaying in paint,
array the way as we sail away.

Her Aura is the aurora in Crystal skies, when she smiles heaven is alive, within her heart you'll find the sanctuary for love.

My heart would betray me for her and lead me to places where joy rids me of despair.
Consumed completely by love I'm dared by bliss, a stranger I've never met.
My mind a gallery of her beauty,
priceless masterpieces I shall never part with.

Starve me of food and water I can survive, but away from her arms I lose the meaning of life.

Your mind is an abyss sated with emptiness,spore of an ink-jet,
the heart is erupting with repugnant repulsiveness.
Your conscience ravage by your impulsive act.
You indulge in savagery shackled by misery creativity is a mystery .

You diverged from an honest life and now you're perjuring in art you dark-prowlers.
Converged with parasites marauding, Proud-Writers.

Cursed with uncertainty you're embracing lies, in the realm of thieves there's a decaying crown.

The spark of passion ignites the heart, until it is engulfed in a conflagration of notions, as curiosity triumphs over caution.

The seed of wisdom, planted in fields of knowledge, is cultivated and refined in kingdoms of intellect to innovate speeches of freedom.

Blisters in sweaty palms, rubbing against the pen, as it drifts between the paths of future and past, where hope is met and joy is felt.

Consumed by epiphanies, the heart-beat is felt by trembling hands, squeezing the pen for inspiration, to bewilder imaginations, giving birth to new perceptions.

Fall away into sweeter dreams, where tears are but the morning dew escaping the sun.

Sleep in fields of abundant ecsasty, where cupids need no arrows as love
is melody.

Dream of memories mirroring     mesmorising scenes. Where plants      dance to the rhythm of the wind.
Elation being the theme.

She is
The heart of poetry,
The cynosure in art,
The spirit of love
That renews honesty.
More precious than
Jewels of God,
mesmerising
arch angels in the centre of heaven having more love than two hearts combine, she's alive and so are we as she imbues us with her life.

The roof is only a foundation, the sky above our heads is the ground beneath her feet and still she is down to earth.

The sun reside within her chest, glistering as she stands, with eyes made of pearls gaze into them and witness fields of elation emerge,where harmony is the ying and melody the yang.

I'm tilted and insist that you know I am grateful now here we
are-
an alliance. Let's see ourselves onwards, be borne by our
fondness-in accord, be our love for the colloquy.

Spry, exuberant. We are free spirits draining oceans of ink, bathing in rivers of lies to find the truth while saturated by pride.
We are propelled to propinquity, as we seek for a better prospect while drowning in propensity.

Our hearts bleed onto the paper,
wanting more love of passion
to spill out endlessly,
so others can relate
to share this burning fire
Deep within our souls.
we seek endlessly for acceptance and relatability,
with someone who we can feel
safe to share these wonderful feelings,
feelings of want from our vulnerable hearts.

In sharing our vulnerable hearts,
I becomes We
the divine flame burns brightly, guiding lonely souls
to meet heart to heart on this happy road of destiny
a stream of gratitude flows from our bloods, and we discover that we write to connect
to the divine source that empties us and fills us.

Flummoxed,
In labyrinths of
Baleful forests with
eyes of gibbet makers
and buried undertakers.
In gloaming sights,
hobbling towards the light.
The silver teeth of
obeisance sundering will,
plundering peace,
blazoning smiles of
malicious beings.

Moles with wings, how is the sky suppose to breathe
From notions of blunt pencils that we never read?
Words baled within the mind, you're prisoner confined in pages aging, facing life setences.
The Size of your pen is,
Still judged by the masses.

There's no peak but pick up the pace without being haste.
Peeking in pools of fame will drown your gaze.

Shoes within rules fit perfectly,
when they broom the room of humes endlessly.

.       **You're A Gift From God              
                  At His Moment
                           Of Joy

You embellish my life, I cherish your love, trust and the time you take just to make me smile

My eyes awe at the sight of your visage. It must have taken God eight days to perfect you before his eyes.

You gave me hope when I thought I  was lost. Your voice is melody echoing the sounds of joy.

In your arms, I am in a garden of heaven basking in bliss, resting in peace but alive and indeed enjoying the aroma of elation swaying with the wind.

Caramel lips, with a body bathed in whipped cream and melted chocolate. With a taste that invigorates every last sansation within.

my eyes are hypnotised as she softly whispers in my ears to dine and delight. Leading me to temples of pleasure.
Her fingers as soft as feathers of golden eagles.
I'm riddled as to why I feel so feeble.

she has mastered the art of knismesis while I am still an apprentince.
temptation consumes me whole, while she moans I indulge in her as the night slowly... grows

I'm horrified by atrocious images that consume my mind. Society is the devil without horns feeding me lies.
When the truth is, paedophiles hide behind the robes of the pope.
Pigs bath in the mud of corruption, assume high positions, incarcerate victims while the streets are flooded with villians.
I'm in a forest of lost souls and weeping spirits, where beauty is another fallen tree.
I realise that heroes are but words and words have become the heroes.

FLAMES from furious friends fighting ferocious fears, forever fueling fuminous faith.

INCESSANTLY incinerating innocence in innerselves. Insidiously influencing introspective introverts.

RISING rapidly.
radically rapturing rectitude rampantly, reconcering raibors.

ENDLESSLY eclipting ecstatic event. enecting eruptions.
eradicating elation .

Silence breaths violence ominous sounds at night loud owls being quite

Knifes dine with guns mate with thugs and breed sons who spill guts

The old bath in young sins of love while caved by deeds of pride

At the edge of horrors the Sun rises, darkness is incinerated and peccancy is evaporated

Standing still
Crushed rampaged
  metals collide the face
  splashed with guts of the
      masses Massacras being
            routines in all routes the
                   scenes are blinding
                        as light flashes
                     before the eyes
                  like angry skies
                in  darker nights

           The day is reborn
      the face wiped with
  cloths of sorrow black
bags already gone but
  not forgotten, pardoned
     only when the bones have
           cracked and the body
           can no longer stand the
             pain, with holes deep
             enough to be filled
                    by the rain.

Why do say love is blind or is for fools?
You drown your blankets with seas from your eyes. Convincing yourself your chest is not one full of treasure, but needles at war with your heart.

Is this what you call love?
This is infatuation, it's lust, it's desire to benefit yourself with no regards for the one you burn towards.

Will you not learn from nature?
trees revive you with oxygen as you breathe. the rivers feed the clouds and the clouds rain and feed the rivers.

Where is sorrow there?
Where are the needles you curse?

Leave your sorrows, they are not worthy of You. Realise that Love is a circle of beneficence, sacrificing itself for the welfare of others.

If this prison of a heart could ever be unlocked she would be the key.
She's purest of joy I've ever known, 
The goddess of love.
cupids dance at the edges of her heart, allergic to lies honesty is her pride.
Suffocated by ropes of sorrows, she untied them and climb to lands of joy.
Her smile awakens the smell of roses, an inspiration for poets to compose with sincerity.
She's clearity in fogs of uncertainty.
If I am to be a pirate then She's the only treasure I'd ever need.
Enticing,alluring, comely, angelic serein and mesmeric lady

She's a lover, the light in the dark, a kind gentle heart I cannot touch.
urges surging feelings emerging,
I am conflicted I know not of love while she is core of it.
I see her everywhere but nowhere so
I search.. I long.. and I yearn..
for her but she is far from my reach I can only hope that our hearts are in synch.

Fell in deep slumber
But my soul is wide awake;
Nights filled with horrendous dreams
Or are those my realities haunting
me ?
Falling in the abyss of thoughts
Ready to feel shattered
and lost

my soul weakens and breaks my emotions separate themselves
from each other
and exit from my husk of my body
no one around as I die
lonely starving for love
i wake up
lonely

Afraid that
the dreams
could become reality
or at least haunt me
for the rest of my life ,
leaving my soul
forever tainted

I'm taunted but At the edges of my fears for a moment,
Wisdom breaths courage
And  I  a m F r e e  
With each step
I can see a glimpse
of elation
enchanting my soul
awakaning my hope
replenishing the hole
in the mists of my heart lost
without love joy is found
and at long last I am whole.

It's been an honor. Thank you all for supporting me, teaching me how to be a poet I very much appreciate it but for now I have to be one with the wind.

I'll be back as soon my future is certain, education is as they say the path to all paths.

I love you all

We came from wombs of literature baptized in wisdom of poets
teeming with knowledge
the cranium about to crack crowns not bestowed but earned

The anguish suffered and absorbed by those who wrote before us
laid grounds for the battle royal

The throne forged from fallen pens the smell of burning paper still alive
Across the journey we must embark to arrive and claim the crown

It is but the path before us to spill the blood, to travel the Trail of Tears
Speak it all in words that communicate your fears

The ink smothers papers in unforgiving battles of writers.

Where fame outweighs the need for imagery, the structures aimed to be masterpieces, broken into master pieces.

The imagery lost with the message as words wonder about in disorganized sequences.

The meaning becomes opaque, as perspiration drowns the paper,panicing impatiently your words are flooded in pools of poems, so they fade and drift away, without any views or likes only dismay is displayed.

The Songs of old birds in cold worlds warm hearts of women where men have left.

Past wars still brewing in the brain making stews of despair he shares only with himself suffocating without breath his heart
infested with death as
The blood of foes
Is still staining
his hands

She holds him
as though an infant
trembling in fear of his
own ghost she assures him
with a kiss of hope that life is
still worth living and all else is
forgiven and all else is forgiven

.....The brush, rush the paint the
                        grudge    
    is ripe cultivate it or let it rust.
  The paint stail the painter frail.
   Caved canvas in sails of a sailor.
  Clash of nembuses the skin pailer  
as thunder walts ashore the ocean,
ballets on the sea like sworns with
wings intertwined dancing with the
                         wind.
You'll love the voice of melody when  
               harmony sings.
   Deep bliss drowns sins so reach
    the glimpse of peace and live

                 Poets coherent,
          honest with even pens
     and odd ends. Warm hearts
               with cold hands.
      Portraying all tales of time.
Write about bright lives bright in
     night stars riding dark skies,
                            Or
    The bane caved in same plains
       of pain as faith fades they
         aim pens on blank pages
               as sanity escapes
Vail veils of age and grow young
                         again.

Horses gone wild
stumping down hard
in my head
Canaries breaking
vocal cords just to
make me mad

my world of notions
tumbling,crumbling
it's a massive rock slide
in my cerebrum
Hack
my skull with axes so
I can feel the breeze
and set my mind free

Engulf me with melody only for a moment and I'll walk the forest of hunted wolves and despondent lions.

The once ambrosial aroma of frail lilies, a smothering hebenon hand. The rays shy away from the polygamy of reapers and senectitude relishing valiant men.

Immerse me in harmonious symphonies only for a moment and I'll tread the trench terrane with jubilent feet, blind to the alluring viper's habanera under lacerated hearsecloth worn by the forest.

.....I will smother you with love.    
hang you with pride riddle your life
           with with bullets of art.

   I will drown you in bliss. Burry
you in everlasting kisses and throw  
         you into the well of your
                          wishes.

              At the end I will reap
    you with hope and **** you with
                 joy as you rejoice.

The mirror dent, my reflection cracked in several
ways, wallowing in wonder whether mortality is my faith.

My eyes
marry clocks
and drift away
with time, to lands of  broken  hour glasses.

Where eternity invites the reaper to shape short destinies.

Fears smear
amongst peers,
many phobias
being but one
clear path
death is near.
Life is dear

The rocking chair
  a paradise for termites
  front porch pictures portraying
   love are nebulous within her eyes
    she busks in the moment
    the delightful smell
    of the effloresecent
    garden being the front-row
   sit to memories of young
  lovers, a vistage of ecstacy
lost with time

  Frazzled by years of affairs
   She still yearns for that
   kiss that cares not for
   time and space that
   leaves a mark of falicity
  on her visage.
a birth mark for when love is
born as lady nature sings her songs

The last light fading
Breaths incapsulated
Blood red eyes
The last struggle
Kicking and boxing towards the sky
Hoping to see the light
In murky dwellings of whales and sharks
Afraid, dazed and crushed
The grip on life fades like dusks, while praying for the sunrise

The pen trembles, the paper perspires,the hand remains steady. Or is the mind weary and reality an illusion within a dream?
Infatuated with harmonising every line. Your mind is violent but your words are quite. incessantly bleeding the pen but there is no pain in your words, just anarchic serenity as you conclude with tranquil tragedies.

I am wounded by questions, as to why I do not honour the beauty of love, but an eagle can not dance in the clouds without its feathers. Shackled by the chains of misery, I find that in love I can not go further.
I'm an iron bent by the hammer of pain. My path is abundant with emptiness, love is yet to lead me astray.

In the rain of my tears I see a rainbow coloured with hope of escaping my fears enlightening my heart as the path to love appears.