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