Geminis
Will call themselves Gemin
To avoid the sensation of rhyming with lies
Because not all of us are cheating liars
If it has to be a civil war between both sectors
So be it
I'll gladly fight for love

i could be told a worldwide amount of praises
and then be gifted a lifetime of abraises
feeling nearly the same throughout my phases
learning how to collocate the right phrases
i'm prolific in procrastination
hence becoming the opposite of a cation
i hope i can acquire an alsatian
to make me stable
there's no telling
when i will be able
to suffice
and be looked at like gneiss

I can feel
the heavy pressure
none of this is getting any fresher
they've concocted an anaconda plan
that has increased the size of my black caravan
into an elongated limo
with empty seats
and a bunch of flashing lights
from cameras of people
who really could care less
i'm not looking to swindle or impress
i'm just try to address
my clear insecurities and shortcomings
it's not worth singing or humming
is it worth anything at all?
there's always something trying to stall
my improvement
somewhere
there's a more content version of myself
it's mostly likely inhabiting in the Persian
gulf
where the least amount of peace exists
arrows, guns, bullets persist
elbows, arms, knees insist
to be without
what do I have to be upset about?

How could I want the art of poetry to be dominantly white and male?
There's way too female poets of color and white female poets that ate much better than I
I couldn't live peacefully in the old days with that being apparent
My intentions are transparent
I think women are better with their words
I'm just an intimidator I feel
But it only takes one for these lines to congeal
Art is a three course meal
And it should not be overlooked
She fills up my stadiums and gets them overbooked
How could I want poetry to be white and male?
The elitist mindset is *******
There's far too many female poets who deserve a trophy of gold
And their hearts to heal.
And there's also too many male poets who don't deserve the image of elitism.

Look at her
In that glamorous dress
Her hair in a tress
She'll unintentionally make my life a mess
My heart is pumping faster than a Bugatti
It's like a class of karate
I would love to wake up to the smell of Chapatis
Every morning
With you
I guess a man as sappy with me can just dream.
I got my homies, I got my team
I just need that one person that prevent me from feeling like Centime
But an amicable passim
Make the bottom of my heart a bream
It would end my dream
And turn it into reality
I'd rather you make my life a mess
Helping you through your life
Instead of being here alone trying not to overthink
I'm usually staring at the Sink
For a few minutes too long
Snapping out of it eventually

I want to be as poetic as the Indians
But I feel trapped like the Armenians
For one to change colors of a Chameleon
They have to hold the brush in the way that's professional.

Maybe my words are filled with smoke
But the regret is soaked
As my pride is soaked
These words occasionally croak
Sometimes my thinking is as hard as pine oak
Don't you ever feel like that again
I'm at fault
I'm going to be corgal with your emotions
Because I never should of hurt you in the first place
I'll bury all my frustrations and aggravation
Like it was the casualties of my own army
It's not easy to farm me
I have a rigid spirit
That can be ignorant at times
The past speaks the volume of my speakers for me.
It takes one to know one.