I see patterns in these lives recurring habits of mean guys, unspoken lies yet to come. Freedom in a jug of a thirsty government ,torments of a silence war path : ships and pirates ;police and sirens ; bullies and violence ; nerds and violins ; birds and flying ; me and writing

what meets the eye is more then I could see , more then i could be, I reveal strangers from a strange house appereing with shocked eyes as the systems bleeds lies and the government pukes fire.

Views from up top

innocent people get braaied, and crimnals raise a glass of fine wine

See we live in a world of....
A world where you choose to be the head or the tail , a world of titles , a world of humans against humans , a world of white vs black , a world of blue vs red a world of reality vs bed , a world of the poor vs those who get paid, a world of philosophers vs dumb heads. see rasicm is still alive its just hidden from inside what a scary facade.

I see everything.

Views from up top

We're still young

We should be loving souls
United souls
Peaceful souls

Being young is the only way we can really express our true beings, but when you claim to be an adult you're caged by acting old, being young doesnt mean childish, young means "im still a fresh *** human being"

So be young and embrace that you are young.

Act your age & give yourself time to grow *****.
Peace

Just stare

Just stare at fear straight into the pupil ripple your inner kingdom , puke the system don't be a victim of what you don't know . Start scripting the pages of your life

Just stare at foolishness ,humble conscience and respect your conscious. Don't be materialistic forget about vouchers.

Just stare at lies try to open your eyes to the truth and make room for your inner roots to grow.

Just stare at anxiety , tranquility is in your arteries.

Just stare at everything you're a wanderer.

I'm a proud father.

I give birth to poems through unearthly thinking and being inside and looking out

A space for consciousness ,pen and paper to collide and conceive baby poems. and sometimes going out and learning clears you mind , through trees , air and the sky : godly art
I connect divinity to heart , sometimes poems are like **** , conceived in the most rudest way and has a strangest feeling. 

I give birth through seeing that I live routines and an uncaring society that only cares about responsibility and gives zero time to reality . But in the midst of foreign thoughts I find peace.

Poems are deceased flowers that can reach high as skyscrapers and touch water vapor and capture what's below its nature

And I still remain in the middle of gunshots writing poems.

coffee wouldn't soothe his pain
blood wouldn't flow right in his vein
books are his love, his companion
the pages were the reflection to his dominion
*********
His body took a long walk of despair
his thoughts so paralyzed, no spiritual repair
melancholy triggered his burning bridges
no recall or a sight of purity
life and death was lying next to him
heart so cheap, so unfortunate
but his soul reached out
and whispered, "clarity is a state of mind"
Deception broke his happiness to bare
a goth's retreat would never compare
the darkness inferiorated his peace
kindness was so rare - death called his name
heart so desparate, so lost
but his soul reached out
and whispered, "clarity is a state of mind"
Ear occlusion and concussions were his gravitation
reluctant sadness killed his meditation
no recognition or understanding from his peers
body kindled its way to the hearts of people
he know not his worth, his birth
heart so fragile, so irregular
but his soul reached out
and whispered, "clarity is a state of mind."