My fondest memoirs of writing was in English She say write me a stanza while reading Shakespeare I thought why do I need to know about this queer Well that's when I feel In love with words Words are like weapons used for harm or good Can be like fire to a wood can be a should to a could All deals in possibilities there is no limitability I made up that word but who cares it sounds real Right? Forget it who are they to say what goes And doesn't go all I know is flow is my principle Millions of people writing what they are inspired Transpired or desired by on a daily basis let's face it Not everyone is built for the same ambition Writing takes time courage and faces maximum critique See how many views will be peeped reaped Over someone's sympathy I'm not trying to win honestly Only to the minds of free who have no limits be The possibilities of the universe expands my worth And girth my mind and soul are infinite but my body Is morality a state of constant breaking close to The site of a necropolis as the moon glances Over the foggy souls and wet tombs that blooms Through the darkest hours of the night don't loose sight in Me I see you looking carefully plotting the mind On trying to figure out what am I saying or conveying The ultimate riddle is never ending it never ends This is only a cycle of illusion painted as reality But I see reality in another form of actuality The spirits are here aliens dancing in the stars Sparkling all over the home is the skies to them Spaceships are merely a traveling thoughts Most often aren't seen like you can't see your mind But you can feel what's in it sort of like that?? Poetry loves me like a oceans deep tide waiting to crash Against the ever so gentle shore to store Shells jellyfish and seaweeds on the shore only to Be washed back in again once the storms begin A reflection of night vs light clouds vs the seas Enjoy the breeze of wisdom as the wondering fan Over nature touches the skins pores out adores The beautiful out of insanity what a wonderful World Like Satchmo said out of all the troubles crimes And or other chaos I think of the beautiful trees The roses that shoot out of the concrete cracks Well now that I've reformed my thoughts about poetry I now live by unlimited limits of love for poetry It is my ultimate craze and daze of immorality