Lost lovingly in the lustre of your love
Softly stroking the texture of the moments-
The time and trust we have shared- the definition of romance.
The awaited angel from heaven above…

Your choicest body-tickling words,
Softer than satin and fresh silk
Nurturing in nature like milk
You are gentler than the breeze of a thousand shades.

Thoughts of you colour my mind like butterflies
Mere thoughts of you burn my heart
And melt away pain like Picasso’s art.
Your love makes me fall for you like lies.

You are that tickling fire within
The strength when I am weak
Like 7 days you build my week
And make my world spin.

If I ever burn to death,
You are that tickling fire
Growing day by day- a gift from Messiah
To me you mean the whole earth

You perfect my weaknesses with your care
And melt me into shape like a steel smiths-man
Till I am a refined man
In you I feel defined and free like the air…

That tickling fire
Of two hearts burning together in flames of love…

This is the art of my imaginations, handwriting of my heart and tribute to your heart. Engrave it on your heart





OutspokenArt #2014

You are one hell of a book,
Written in a simple style.
A song with a catchy hook,
Complicated page to file.

Your plot is intricate,
but you are still intriguing.
Your petals are colourful and delicate,
You got me hallucinating.

Been scripting this piece-
Its nearly a week but still,
Rehearsing it like a first kiss
Punching lines like a till-

Suppressing thrills,
Chasing footsteps of shadows and thoughts.
Swallowing bitter pills-
Thoughts being cast everywhere like votes...

And writing heart desires- as if my poem is a will.
With words that burn as forest fires.
Thoughts of you bring my world to a standstill.

Your stubborn attitude
and the Monalisa smiles,
Raise my heart like altitude.
Ironic enough memories of you keep piling like files.

Your silence captures my curiosity,
Preying on it like a predator.
Your quiet moments are pretty-
Lips made of nectar...

Your expressions are strong-
They challenge my mind set.
You are a hit song,
Your beat makes one sweat.

I hate to play you,
Because your melodies are too deep,
And your lyrics are too true.
So if I fall for you I will forever slip.

You are hard to forget,
When did I learn your facts?
Actions and reactions-a magnet?
You are warm, deep inside like pockets.

No conclusions-
Just casting controversial cute courtesies,
Confused for confessions yet caressing illusions-
Maybe social prophecies...

Thoughts of you are without a conclusion-
Limitless, bottomless-
They run deep like confusion.
So I crowned them with words like a princess.

Naked truth-
True lies...

OutspokenArt #2014

Mirror,
You behold all that I do.
Last spring I looked into your face,
Sought for your eyes
And your favour too.

You said that I was the fairest of them all.
A perfect soul packaged in an imperfect world,
With golden brown eyes-
The type that melts rocks.

You found sense in my nonsense.
For solely of importance were the contents,
You wrote my beauty on all the moments,
You loved my strength
And saw through me.

Guess you beheld me too many a times,
That I lost the fire
And became common like sand.
Maybe you became too accustomed to my scent
And my golden brown eyes fell from stars into dust
And my smooth edges bled into rust.

Should I turn my face away?
For when I see you I hear go away
Should I break you into a million pieces?
Maybe when I rebuild you I will hear a new thesis
And not see my weaknesses
And my fault-lines
This scarred face with ugly lines

But I was born a sinner,
Imperfect is the best I can be?
Only your eyes can behold me as perfect,
Since kisses go by favour
And beauty lies in the eyes of the beholder.
I have rough edges but a smooth soul.


Scared to look at you next spring-
For when I shall I ask you
Who is the fairest of them all?
It may never be me,
For my body will be flawed,
My kingship outlawed,
A broken record
The imperfect perfect…

05/10/2013 (inspiredinspirationsinc.)

Tick tock time travelling,
Talking the walk-
Time thoughts unravelling,
And walking the talk.

Think of time man-
Churning time into ours
and hours watch and learn-
The magic of seconds and hours.

Streets chasing me,
and flee I would flee-
whilst money could not buy me,
Since time is money- but I would not grow on a money tree.

But I would be on all hands-
Black, white till pink,
Both hour & second hands.
I would write graffiti like street ink-

And with time I would sky write,
Since I would have all the time,
and would be the time- pardon this playwright.
I let actions speak like a mime.

And to me the world would pay attention-
Since money would not buy my presence.
I would fly too like inflation.
Queens would bribe me with presents-

Pregnant with prospects to beat time- stay young,
Live long and reign.
In every song like a chorus I would be sung-
How untouchable is the time man.

I would never be late for a date.
I would **** death-
Let life live long but it is too late,
These are broken dreams- pangs of birth...

I am not the time man-
I need the time Amen...

OutspokenArt# 2014

For Aaliyah