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Everyone claims to have their own case
no wonder there's chaos in every place
Even the expert
    could sound absurd!
There's an art to everything-
        thinking, writing, reading, listening
        but the most important thing
        is that of purposeful living
Sometimes I stick out from my friends a bit - I think. It’s the French in me. Americans have this excité-ment about things - that’s, well, exhausting.

Sometimes, when friends are jumping about, they practically plead for my engagement. I think I have a genetic, French reticence, an observer gene.

True, I have my moments of bitter COVID lock-down angst but I'm doing better than some friends. Maybe because the French live slowly - life is just moments - once a moment has passed, it’s gone.

I wait, in my secret gardens, like a cat on a settee, sipping small pleasures. The poet in me refuses to zone out - there are poems in the stillness.
Funny how our heritages, and our parents shape our outlook
An agony of a war
Within the family,
Twelve, we were
born, the first not
I am and, the first
just I am

A bigamy,
sometimes is
raw deal and,
outrageous is always
planting, on the
farm yard of a family
tree and it's branches,
there is hatred between
brethren of the same
parental map, the
youngish feel to
count out the unyoung
for no reason but, to
take the rag coiled
the head of the
Kingdom, where all
they lives and dwell,
I am more than pliable
and I am in the plight
mode like I plight to
someone throth having
no wealth, my heart feet
plod and trudge, they
Positioned my life as
plonker through all
the ploy and manoeuvre
seeded, downgraded own
talent and light of my pen
work, I will not be pride
on myself but, so many
did with the negation
of my family,
Everyone's hatred on
some like me, so why?

Because, I am bestowed
not with laziness but a
gift to learn and understand
easily, and I Wasn't gifted with
more wealth like mansa moussa
Be cautious
While using words
Coz these live
longer than us.
i have realized
that it is in silence
where my voice thrives
it is where i truly found my voice
and welcomed her with open arms

this world does not want us to find our voices
no matter how much it advertises for it
because once we do
we begin to realize the power behind it
and the lies that were found in the noise
of the world

find your voice
strip your mind of all other narratives
and listen to the one that has been buried down
beneath all the trash
there lies your most authentic self
the one that has been there
all along
once you find your inner voice
hold space for its abandoned
emotions
trauma
boundaries
desires
needs
tend to the voice
that will lead you to joy
A single flower blooms
In winters cold embrace
It’s there the fair maiden sits
Where autumns been replaced
The cold winds blow in the north
But the maiden’s filled with awe
She’s enamored by the single rose
Legends and folklore
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