Treaded passed concrete design by the skin of his teeth,
now he digs deep for a trace of belief,
frustration is futile as each axis folds back on him,
a web of passivity leaves him flanging fleetingly.

At the final analysis,
the beams have buckled,
the stiffeners crippled,
with covid clouding his truss in the structure of his mind,
the bolts are loose,
the welds are weak,
the shear tension pulls him apart,
as these concepts compress his cranium,
with every load combination assessed,
each turning moment reacting to
his resistance to failure.
Steel he'll persist,
the worst chances are not the ones missed but the ones not taken,
will he remain standing with his foundations shaken?

From the day you flushed my clothes down the toilet because I took your spotlight as the only child,
to when you, "had the cali girl swag" and you "bragged about it" to your polés in B language,
to the day when you were at a high school event acting wild,
the days in between when I punched you in the spleen and received a recompense from dad.

When I'd watch 'As told by Ginger' and 'Hey Arnold' only because you liked them,
your resistance to let go of childhood soaps and all the shows we grew up with,
when we'd play waida, hands up america, the country game and all the trivialities to pass the time,
when you'd console me after an umpteenth unrequited romantic endeavour,
and all the things that my memory has failed to keep.
Oh my dear,
you've come a long way.

Now you're a lawyer but you're still my big sister,
behind your well written and thought out comments and critiques,
is a passionate, fiery lady with a desire for change,
a confident yet insecure woman who's fed up with acne, backne and banana knees.
Like many people there's more to you than meets the eye,
the grief and pain you hide,
the places you keep at the corner of your mind,
loved ones lost, breaches made, and dreadful doubts.

Before I bore you,
I just wanted to write this to say how much I adore you,
I've written poems for people I've known for a day,
but I've let my own blood slip away.

My life has felt worth the trip because of people like you,
you're such a special person even though you don't think it's true.

Cheers my friend,
you just hit a quarter century,
here's to at least two more,
even though there's tough times to come,
I'm excited to see what the future has in store,
as you put your trust in the Son,
may you fly with the wings of eagles and soar.

I love you fam.

Nyantie

He started a company called misery but he didn't get many shareholders.

Our cousin's are our first best friends,
Blood leave's little room for pretense,
We fight with no compromise until the fittest has their way,
in a patriarchal place sometimes the girls sit or work and watch the boys play,
These are the types of things my big brother would challenge about society,
What was the best way for us to coexist?
How could we ensure that we could all flourish?
Male, female, sexist, racist, brown, pale, Christian or atheist.

Anyone who really knew Musenge knows he didn't shy away from controversy,
He knew that change cannot come from conformity,
Though we didn't always agree,
I saw him as mind that was free.

I was so glad when i heard he was pursuing journalism,
Like when we were kids i thought he was stepping in to his rhythm,
We would dance to Michael Jackson at family gatherings,
Without a care for whether we were actually happening,
It was the two of us against the world for that moment.
Those are my fondest memories.

Then he went to the UK and we became slightly estranged,
The next time I saw him,
his jawline had changed,
His voice had a buzz,
but his eyes were the same,
The eyes never change,
but the face tales a tale,
of struggle and pain,
fear and rejection,
but also of joy and of hope,
love and acceptance,
I was curious to know how his journey had been since we last met.

He was still like my best friend and we picked up like he never left,
He really enjoyed Marvel movies so we'd go to the cinema whenever we could,
recently we'd grab a shawarma and a beverage from the local neighbourhood when I'd come home for the holiday.
He was a fan of a good story.
He looked at life as one and he often questioned his own and our own.

One thing I'll always remember was Musenge's cry for unity.

He felt that there was a drop in love in the family and not just the Kasese's but Africa.
Having lived in three different continents his mind became global and he no longer saw Jew or Greek, slave or free. As much as he sometimes had doubts about God as we all do he was getting closer to the heart of Jesus more than he probably knew.

So what then must we do to honour the life of our friend, brother, son and nephew?
I believe we must try to love like he loved,
He had the best wishes for each of us,
St. Thomas Aquinas said To love is to will the good of the other,
Though sometimes misunderstood,
Musenge's intentions were good.

May we tell each other how much we love each other more often and may we show it too.
May we give big open hugs as he would.
Make this journey a little less lonely and cold,
May we have discussions and not arguments and listen to each others views.
May we be curious to challenge the status quo and ask how we can improve,
May we heal the world and make it a better place,
That's what Musenge was trying to do.

May we not be crushed by the pain and grief.
May the spirit of God comfort our hearts and may we be grateful that we got to experience the wonderful enignma that was Musenge Geoffrey Chibwa.

We will miss you my friend,
Your story had too soon an end,
May mercy make us meet again.
Lord graciously hear us.

It's said that a stitch in time saves nine,
well pass the wool to the fools,
stress to them that nothing's as it seams,
coil caution tape around what's commonly coveted,
weary of winding up the woeful with warnings they're wound up to be wounded.

It's only a while before wit gives way to grit and the garments don't fit,
leaving behind a bare brother brewing bitterly on cold concrete,
his evidence is shaken,
validity made volatile,
placed on a polluted pile,
slide her a sweater for she shivers,
he should've known better.

Tell the young black stallion,
most times his mare knows best,
there's a stark simplicity to the test,
tell them all to labour to enter in to His rest.

Despite the comfort and amenities I've been endowed,
witnessing the corruption and chaos in the homeland,
a mother's aching bones and a nation stretched ever thinner in austerity sends the sweet siren song of nihilism seductively seeking me to sail upon it's serpentine seas.

A few more millions and maybe I'd marry my mattress and lull in to ignorant bliss; a privilege I'm not able to claim. The Ecclesial song of Solomon rings through: "Everything is meaningless. More knowledge yields more sorrow."

Yet Hope endures. Faith sees beyond. Love sustains. A turbulent but triumphant trio testifying that there's still a tomorrow to be tasted and with a smoldering wick of a flame in my chest,
there still roams a devil to shame so I'll rest.

This road to recovery is quite long,
at times I feel so far gone,
life would rock in a band,
friend's lend a hand in quicksand,
had to learn this fact the hard way.

Failed the city,
got struck by an arrow,
the plot took an olive twist,
thought I had thick skin,
I didn't check my marrow,
I became blind to the sparrow,
so I pirated my chest's treasure,
the problem was not the problem,
hard to integrate broken parts,
deceit hides in the arts.

Playing catch-up,
lost the sauce,
cos now the defects are patent,
tan wears off away from the sun,
would be pointless to dress it up,
sin's proved real and so has satin.

Maybe I was shadow boxing,
fighting on the wrong hill,
perhaps this dark night isn't so serious,
maybe I should just chill,
should I ruminate those net flics?

Glad not to have a credit card,
my ledger would not balance,
life is turning to a heath,
some melancholic saga,
acted like a rugrat,
you could hear me going gaga,
played facebook like poker,
seems I played the joker,
was supposed to be a man,
became a cimbwi no plan.

Went ghost to being holy,
I didn't see the flying phantoms,
the wrestle is not a royal rumble,
man's never been hot though he looked warm.

right here before your eyes,
either a warrior will rise,
or another king will take an impending tumble.

Django's unchained gotta pick up what remains.

Was it Medusa or Delilah?
the incision that distorted his vision,
once tore a lion's mouth when grace abounded,
once so confident, strong and grounded,
now he's like a stray dog that's confounded,
he was once empowered,
but his courage cowered to his affliction,
bold until he gave a foothold,
the slavery of sin himself sold.

Has his heir been cut off he ponders?
lost his source of conviction he wonders?
did he stop taking things day by day,
needing every hour?
Did he let that root grow bitter,
to the point he's tasting sour?

He could've broken down false pillars,
now he feels like an empty salt cellar,
better yet a basket case,
can't recognize his master's face.
betrayed himself so greatly,
put his trust in a chariot,
wore the coat of Iscariot.
He knows the past is not a place to dwell,
but he's reminded by a ceaseless thirst,
the by-product of seeking water from a broken wishing well,
discernment had diminished,
he simply couldn't tell,
slowly but surely,
pride was how he fell.
He tried to build it up again,
but to no avail,
perhaps a case of Ichabod,
has the spirit left his tail,
is it hocus-pocus,
the reason he can't focus?
Less time with fellow ironmen,
more marvelling at unfruitful doctrines strange,
identity issues like Ben Tennyson,
perhaps he's gone insane,
he keeps on going in cycles,
his habits hard to change,
or maybe he has lost the upper hand?
because every time the rain falls and the wind blows,
his house just will not stand.

Our lion, our pillar, our papa,
you're as constant as the millet or maize meal we know you'll always want for supper,
don't even get me started on how you've loved my mother.

The eternal drives to get our education,
with Westlife, Bryan Adams moving my present battles with infatuation,
I'm glad that you eventually transitioned to British Broadcasting Corporation,
the constant encouragement and affirmation,
the care, correction and redirection,
the freedom and support,
the discipline and the remorse,
these words come short,
how could I ever repay?
What else can I say,
I get writer's block when it comes to you,
maybe because your life leaves me speechless,
perhaps your love ties my tongue.
when all is said and done I'll always be thankful for you Obi-Wan.
With love,
Your son.

Providing us food from our conception,
Protecting your chicks like a hen,
Placing a compass when we needed direction,
Powerfully gentle even when we drive you mental.

Adored you are my queen,
Attest I can to the kindness you 'space to let',
Asylum found in your arms with the pain life can cause,
Although you don't seek a round of applause,
Alive still you are we must give you your roses.

Mystery to me the care you have given,
Marvel at times at the trail you have trodden,
Merciful One you blessed us with a pearl,
Mother to us and Obi-Wan's girl.

Esther-esque you watch out for your people,
Ever do you rest you climb so high unequal,
Even when you left to learn and in my ignorant infancy I forgot your name,
Expect you remembered me all the same,
Estimates you have exceeded you're just the one we needed.

Love carries you as you go,
Living in a way you let all know,
Look at the fruits of your labour,
Laughter so loud and contagious,
Lines are lacking because some things words could never express.

Altogether awesome Adonai,
Again you let her see another year,
Aghast we gaze at your glorious grace,
Aquitted we are from the curse,
Appreciative of a mum who lets us know your worth.

Woven in your womb,
Wisdom had us hewed,
While I boast of your beauty,
We all were born broken.

Hence I say you are far from perfect,
However you've always had a precious purity,
Hope this makes you merry,
Have a glass or two of sherry.

Youthful you remain,
Yielding a joy filled jubilee,
Yes fintu mu chalo file moneka kwati fya onaika,
Yet mwali shiba at Yesu a têka!

Could he make his partition in peace?
Could he learn to find rest in release?
Like Hezekiah after a word from Isaiah he sets his affairs in order,
before he crosses back to his border,
He lets the rift be filled with a gift,
rather than driving away with an empty drift.

Letting go is like death,
A funeral one has to attend,
but after the mourning comes a joy,
a promise of new beginnings,
He chose not to cremate what he hoped to stay alive but he buried it gently with some petals to soften the scars rather than to let bitterness and disappointment prolong his pain.
Freedom will find him one day,
He counts it all as loss again.

Highly reactive when I'm out my element,
thought it was no K to be an alpha but that was a lemon,
trying to be a male but don't wanna send the wrong message,
done a lot of time healing but I'm afraid to end my sentence,
reading all these letters from a dead man about a living king.

Thought i had it made,
depleted all my energy feeling jade,
figuring out my act cause the world is like a stage,
got keys in my hand but i stay in this cage,
found out it was grief underneath all the rage,
been stuck in this chapter but it's time to turn the page.

king by side
queen takes knight,
dusks to dawns,
bishops preying on pawns,
crannies and rooks,
1000 Benji's in The Book,
30 pieces silver all it took,
fishers of men by hook or crook,
ends justify,
ying for the yang,
black for the white,
depths of duplicity,
deadly duality.

The prince of platitudes,
logging for wolves,
specks by his eye,
maybe a stye,
he thought he could see,
learned that he's blind.

Dexter's and Deedee's,
Ed Edd's and and Eddy's,
washed in the red,
sailing unsteadily.

Gotta grind to acquire a k9,
a Canon or a canine,
merry in the mundane,
simply to stay sane.

Tiger Woods nails a hole in one,
The Lamb nailed a hole in three,
took the L never kept the score,
hoping to see his eaglets soar,
back as a lion ready to roar,
not an apparition he let them feel,
no longer heard the hissing at his heel.

Mirages made in desert thirst,
caused them to stray and whine,
to the point it was fine to dine with swine,
in the cool shadow of his wings their wounds will heal,
for it's for his house he has the zeal,
refining ore he's packed and sealed,
the greatest gift to men revealed,
salvation for every nation,
with the gospel's propagation,
disciples' proliferation,
entire generations,
discover true liberation.

When the throne is not your own,
You can fight tooth and nail,
though it will be to no avail,
fate is a friend as he lets a story end,
***** it up like a man,
cause he won't pull that sword from the boulder,
it cut deep when the prince realised he was nothing more than a placeholder,
with no afforded courtesy,
all is fair in the fight,
now he must lick his wounds,
The king has returned,
the lesson has been learned,
the feeling is bittersweet,
for now he concedes defeat.

"could you keep your head up,  when you're losing ground?"

On this day he was feeling the plight of vision-less sight,
recalling α.ω. Tozer's the "result of rejected light",
like an assassin he claimed all the creeds,
till baseless words were exposed by his deeds,
sometimes apparent depth is hollow and deceptive,
one cannot give anything to one who is unreceptive.

Raised in block C and chalala bedrock,
it's time to go Holme,
what went wrong?
investigate like Sherlock,
perhaps it was when he decided there were weightier matters than his gran,
or when he distanced himself from his fam,
or he spent to much time on the gram,
whatever the case let's make it brief,
the young man simply succumbed to utter unbelief.

The wrestle is not a royal rumble,
oh that cornerstone can make a goliath stumble,
all the words he heard at youth camp,
Couldn't speak when folly gave him the sock,
He didn't listen to the people's champ,
Yes,
he made light of the Rock.

That's enough of lamentation,
it is time for a revelation,
creation groans for the manifestation,
tribes and tongues of every nation,
by the power of Christ find true liberation!

In the quiet of the consequence,
rises the volume of his guilty conscience,
another year has gone by leaves him asking why,
his legacy is potential,
Captain could've should've would've,
had he sharpened his mental,
he could have rewritten his story,
partook in the glory,
all he's left with is sorry.

Right now he must resist resentment,
realize repentance hoping the ominous cloud,
the one that stands imposing and proud,
will not pour the cold judgment to which he's been sentenced.

I saw her through rose colored eyes,
there was so much truth in those lies,
even after I looked past her disguise,
post-infatuation still left me surprised,
Let me try to summise.

When you care for someone, it's almost as if they can't put a foot wrong and even their imperfections are justifiable in your eyes.

I see her through the lens of a friendly sunflower now because that's the zone we're confined to,
sometimes too painful to rhyme through.

Anyway for me it's her pretty brown eyes and how she can't have me stare at them while she's aware so I salvage every moment of their sparkling glare.

She's a princess to me,
enveloped in naive wisdom,
she sees the world in a way that's rare,
tries to cover up how much she cares
but she collects sea shells as memories of every time she's been to the beach.

Such attention to detail shows me how deeply she thinks.
It's amazing how seashells don't crack in the mighty waves.
How come she hasn't cracked?
It's that fragile strength that leaves me in awe and wonder.

I never feared drowning till I was almost engulfed by the ocean.
It quickly went from thrill to thriller.
That's how it feels when I'm with her.
Moments of enjoyment that I'd never trade but moments that it kills me to know might just fade.
Maybe I'll keep some seashells to remind me of the moments I spent with you.

Beyond the surface,
her ocean eyes gazed past my disguise,
she saw the ogre in me,
the monster, the beast,
she didn't run away,
she held my hand,
walked with me,
talked with me,
it was too late,
i fell in love that day.

Perhaps it was a trauma bond,
or an unhealthy attachment,
but as time elapsed i realised that she took me in to her world,
i saw life from her perspective,
how simple and glorious it was,
she cleared my complexity,
took a weight of my mind.

A lighthouse on a stormy sea,
she became a refuge for me.

Run run run Mr Gump,
make a little stop for an emotional dump,
flora and fawning,
terrorise with love bombing,
thinking I'm sly but just simping,
not whole so myself I be pimping,
no entourage just self sabotage,
thankful for those that saw through my mirage,
my history shows part victim more vilain,
may it end in victory.

I'll leave a trail if I get out the forest,
use whatever light I've got left to make sure the next gen's set.
goodbye to the shame and the lie,
death to being a nice guy,
no need to hide from my shadow side.

What do you do when the flowers start to blossom,
but you're grinch-green like buttercup,
when no drugs can get you high like a power puff,
life is coming at you like mojo jo jo,
hoping for a discount but you don't have a promo,
pains pricked the bubble that you made with jokes.

Carrying a code of conduct in the last quarter as twenty twenty runs passed you,
trying not to drop the baton and let down the team.

Seems like there's holes in your bucket,
cause nothing holds water,
it's a slippery ***** when you can't cope,
feeling like you're at the end of your rope.

Nothing fills the avoid dance,
you just want the record to replay like an encore,
numb from trying to find work like LinkedIn park.

You're not a burden for having burdens,
one things for certain,
every scene has to end,
when they close the curtain,
the playwright might flip the script,
so don't you quit,
soon you'll start to attune to the beauty of spring,
winter was long but a new song you'll sing.

Wickedness or weakness?
I should probably not tweet this,
Nearly slipped in to an abysmal depth of despair but read and heard of an heir,
the grim reaper sewed me a ragged garment but i traded it for a glorious cloak i never deserved,
Gave me solace when i seemed stressed,
I felt my soul less with each step,
To be or not to be?
Neither left right nor centrist,
box me at your peril,
living with the most hopeful omen,
killing fear by the day,
The only way to drink the cup is to keep my eyes up,
Icarus: you can never get too close to the Son,
Part of the cure or disease?
don't know how many seconds till the clock stops,
sprinkle some joy in to this cold play,
imperative is change the narrative,
first to find the path to match my claim,
the freedom attained must be sustained,
Am I free?
Quod Erat Demonstrandum.

A half empty vessel I make noise,
half fool trying to man up and stop boy,
eating plenty but giving few.
know how to be filled,
not how to pour,
know I have wings,
though afraid to sore.

My house was swept but I did not shut the door,
when they were chased they came back with more,
now I'm crying back to sender,
when I opened the door for them to enter,
may we treat our temples with reverence,
masterpieces sculpted from Genesis.

Pain was promised but so was joy,
moths and rust shall not destroy,
the beauty that is beyond fasting from bacon,
the call to a kingdom that can't be shaken.

There may be reason to be in fright,
but he calls us to be salt and light,
ask for strength to fight the good fight,
to mortify the flesh to be filled with Christ.

May we be okay being perceived inferior,
to know there's treasure in our interior,
to learn to find joy in shadows,
to know that only he is hallowed,
let us learn to serve in love,
fix our eyes on things above,
working out in fear and trembling,
God will bring it to an ending,
may condemnation not refrain,
the grace that makes us born again,
when all our deeds are purged by fire,
may we live for a cause that is so much higher,
may it truly be found that we loved The Messiah.

It's time to seek the ancient paths,
to tread along the greener grass,
for time is short,
and life is faster,
may perfume pour through our cracks soon after,
may the Potter jar us like alabaster,
to be worn and wasted by a wicked world,
to replace the fragrance of sin's foul penalty,
to lighten what was once so grim,
to know that suffering will make us more like him.

It's time for speech to turn to traction,
to be whole when feeling fraction,
to be simple and true,
to trust in the dark the one who made hue,
to walk by faith and hope that grace will bring us through,
seek his face when you can't recognize yourself,
he is our friend and ever present help,
he's writing our story,
we are seated on a right hand shelf,
the library of love where his presence dwells,
not by power not by might,
he will help keep us in the light.

If the King emptied himself,
who are we to be full of grief?
should troubles always bring unbelief,
don't we know the one we follow,
the joyful holy man of sorrow,
the pages in our story that none will ever see,
were authored by the one who set us free,
the message in the bottle was meant for we,
open the scrolls and pray we see,
that ours is overwhelming victory,
that we have been given mercy,
to no longer bear the weight of iniquity,
to boldly say we're free indeed.

For wretched were we and far from pretty,
naked in shame and to be pitied,
trusted in things that don't sustain,
in wisdom and teachings that bind our brain,
let's run to the name that will not fail,
the one who leads us from the prison doors,
the one who paved the streets of gold,
for all our losses sevenfold,
the one who bought us with a precious price,
the one who died to give true life,
the prince of the peace who gave us bail,
Hold fast to the truth His Word won't fail.

He said he resonates with the joker,
after watching the film,
i was left with a tension,
i understood the pain of exclusion,
the loneliness of not being understood,
we all must be acquainted with darkness,
through we must remember that for every dark night is a brighter day,
we're gonna be okay.

i don't always cope well with life and it's *****,
countless times i slipped and fell,
climbing through the mountains in my mind,
breaking through the chains that bind,
but you were constantly kind.

when i reach the end of my race,
may there be traces of grace,
may you find me with faith,
may you find me with hope,
may you draw near,
make your love ever more clear,
so i may walk the rest of my days free from fear.

It's like the salty sea,
a teaspoon of time in your presence,
every second seems serene,
the silence sets the scene,
they say protect your peace,
my fears i will release.

With the evident privilege to enquire,
a fed belly, rested body but weary soul,
a soliloquy starts as my bed engulfs me,
It's nine in the morning and I've already had my quarter life crises,
across the soil are many others,
sleeping, striving, laughing and crying.

My head knows hope my heart feels hopeless,
I will pour my nother some tea, greet my father, hug my sister and call my brother.
I will use the rest of my life to love well, maybe then I'll feel some life.

Time has revealed things about myself that i'd rather un-see,
i'm not the person i thought i was,
more of a monster than i thought i'd be,
toxicity is a spectrum.

Keep your guard up don't just open sesame,
these streets will cut you up with no remedy,
don't sell your heir like Esau you're too tresemmé.

Hold on a little longer,
keep on getting stronger,
Foolish things to confound the wise,
nearly met his demise,
but to his surprise,
He told him to arise and go to Niniveh.

Not a betting man but double-check the trifecta,
flipping the script of the natural selector,
dark horses coming through,
tried and tasted what is true,
mongrels mounting up from misery,
as all scream and shout,
who let the dogs out!

Once commissioned as causes of concern,
had a lot to unlearn,
underwritten as risky investments,
downtrodden and dejected,
the last to be selected,
with all eyes on the high and mighty,
they sought to divide the word rightly,
each day the weak ones learned from their losses,
joyfully carrying their crosses,
now they stride strong in synergy,
saved from the scrutiny success solicits,
they kept being pimped from their torn down state in preparation for exhibits.

It's a marathon building shelter for my family of vagabonds and pariahs,
He brought us from a low place so we lift Him on higher,
adopted into community with my gang of refugees,
the prince of peace is our metanoic pallisade,
we don't need an accolade.

I'm a werewolf from the wilderness of woodlands trying to feast on a ****** lamb hoping I can be freed from the curse and be made new.

A walking contradiction,
trying to earn distinctions,
attempting to distinguish,
between the matter of the fact and the substance of the fiction.

Stones from my glass house,
an heir intertwined in the vine,
Jack on a beanstalk trying to make of this life the most,
gotta eat the bread of his flesh,
drink the wine of his blood and make a toast to the only one in whom we can boast.

Coasting between Kendrick and Kanye,
Exhausted by dichotomous extremities,
I'm simply seeking serenity,
He says He sings over us, serenades,
grilling in the fire, salt of the earth I guess we're marinade,
know my target audience so I let these rhymes perform their aim,
whatever that may be,
blind Pharisee trying to see how far I can,
hollow man looking through the the lens of of The hallow man.

I don't seek no sympathy I'm just making symphonies,
quite aware of my apathy,
groaning in my atrophy,
body of death is taunting me,
still I cry out victory,
sprinting for a real trophy,
already in pole position,
impossible it seems as Tom's cruising on this mission,
looking to express the beauty of good religion,
wrestling like a Russian named Ruslan from the west to manifest the Kings dream,
show that he's forever blessed,
while trying to entertain,
got no time to stress,
set up for success,
grinding everyday to enter in to his rest.

His rest is history,
what Jesus did for you what He did for me, concurrently, paradoxically He's presently still working through beings like me and you to make things new.
 
We need His assistance but we act in resistance as we focus on the current waves,
we lose our power,
we must depend on Him in every hour,
our lives are but a flower and a mist,
a brief moment we're son-kissed
dark clouds hover with painful rain,
imminent is His reign,
we will rejoice again.

I played with the pied piper or Prometheus,
I guess I'm just tired of all the things that are misleading us.
 
If you didn't get any of these lines let me try to make this worth your time:
The son of man,
the great I am,
the lion of Judah,
the Holy lamb,
took this son of OB1 and Pam,
showed me light in my darkest night,
though we stray and wander,
he's a good shepherd who calls us home.

If you too feel broken and alone,
there's always a seat at the feet of the faithful friend,
it doesn't have to be Christmas or Easter,
we feast daily on tears, joy and all the beauty and grief between,
washed by the water of His words He's made and is making us clean.

First is how it ends don't worry about the queue,
Foolish things to confound the wise,
nearly met his demise,
but to his surprise,
He told him to arise and go to Nineveh.

Sometimes I put pen to paper,
or thumbs to keypad,
that my cares may rise like vapour to one that's greater.

These times have left me aloof,
often blind to the truth,
waking up everyday with a sense of renewed hope,
simultaneously with dense legs that don't want to get out of bed cause I won't cope.

Walking this fine line where I'm subject to a steep positive ***** with my head in the clouds or a negative drop with my face in these psalms.
Selah.
A carrier of this deceased old me hanging and weighing down on the free man.

Coming to realise how hard it is to optimize in this life,
much easier to stay paralysed and pessimize all the strife.

I got so many lines about these tough times but only one thing I'm really trying to say.

When we see a monsier or madame on the other side of the lane and they're clearly in pain we shouldn't refrain, to engage in their sorrow; whisper a word or two for them to the one called True. Maybe go a little further and ask them how they do?

Oh how consoling it is to know a faithful friend from the bitter days to the better ends.

Whichever way that the valley bends may we say that we never really walked alone. Plucking from the beak of a famous duck: It's hard to do these things alone,
so just hold on we'll make it home.

They'd be debating over the msg, kjv, niv, etc,
while he drowned in *******,
tormented as he trialed his conversion,
vice city no longer a mere game,
but the vicinity of his brain,
conscious corrupted in chains,
marveled at unfruitful doctrines strange,
left sick on the verge of deranged,
eyes laying sight on the vile,
called out but took the bait of the Nile,
stiff-necked afraid to plough the furrow,
skin-deep till it got to the marrow,
no shield when struck by the arrow,
backslid and strayed from the narrow.

Eyes weary scene it all,
if I stumble blame the fall.
Second Adam just believe.

Tipping on a tightrope,
holding it in tension,
closer to a far hope,
beyond comprehension.

Silence and soliloquy,
raging against atrophy,
freedom only slavery,
sing a sweeter symphony.

I used to think I was humble till it was tested,
Same goes for patience, honesty, loyalty and every virtue you can measure,
Can't be a healthy dog if I've never been vetted.

At my most creative when in a crisis,
those momentary lapses when the pooh hits the ceiling and there's no piglet in sight to console me,
yeah no homie just the mirror,
all's left bare and I see a little clearer,
they say draw near to Him and He'll draw nearer...

All in all it's always easier to theorise a response,
I'm starting to realise there's more to myself,
gotta stop being a spectator and get in the driving seat,
will I gain sweet victory or defeat?
We'll have to weight and see.

To some we are serpents to some saints,
I guess it all depends on the picture one paints,
I've learned not to bother to greatly about perception,
there's a deformity of personhood that comes with the fear of rejection.

I'm out of time but I can't let that rush me,
most errors are made in a hurry,
I need a dream team of people,
perhaps that's the difference between LeBron and Curry (lol respect to both),
though I can't tell between the wolves and the sheep though,
haha that sounds a little hypocritical right?
Didn't I just say earlier that to some we are such and such?
Well I too reside among the same,
with people that I've learned to distrust,
iron sharpens iron but the wrong friends can make the whole structure rust.
Nonetheless if they moving shaky,
still might offer a hand of help.

Here's to the pursuit of life in existence,
going against the grain,
the resistance,
when you're trying to preserve things,
you take everything with a grain of salt.

I hope you find something valuable in my random rumination,
I guess it's goodbye till my next 'revelation'.

Wisdom, truth and honour.
They lay like mantras on the mantle of his soul,
the message is the mandate,
heroic heralds stand before him,
courageous cowards that came cried and conquered,
but he sleeps,
as his Master prays,
he pries,
the night dawns and the valley violently veers his confidence,
after all he's being through,
he still doubts,
the sweet sound of sensuality seeps into sight as he sings the song of the serpent,
"it doesn't really matter,
Ignorance is bliss,
take these silver coins
Hiss"
Judas' kiss cold as the skin of a cold cobra,
spitting in the face of the Faithful,
change for change,
a bitter trade,
sticks and stones,
hangman,
the word went on the bitter betrayal, though ******,
was not the final word,
the fear of death that led him to cheat,
was now destroyed under the teacher's feet,
a lesson for all those that would follow his steps.
Virtues curfew cancelled forever.

Part of my name means to step,
trying to find my feet,
can't save my rep,
hollow chest despite the bench press,
finding fuel so the next gen's set,
all for the fam like Vin diesel,
often times I'm very cheesy,
life and its lemons might just squeeze me.

Thankful for those who stay,
give me hope for a brighter day.

"What is truth?"
Dust returns to dust,
bodies laid out on cold crying soil,
they say it's women and children,
the stench of stale blood permeates,
as some grieve others revel in their "cause",
programmed to see the other as enemy,
the molested minds mangled in a vicious cycle of self torture,
the fragments of humanity seeping away with every act of evil.
The greatest miracle is a changed heart,
How does one convince the deaf to hear?
History will say there are no winners, just death.

The pen is a blessing and a curse,
Only so far can these words nurse,
Everyone remembers Shakespeare
but few Wordsworth,
To be or not to be,
the only thing that matters truly,
to be or not to be.