the red paint upon my nails is fading, cracking, chipping away like my once ever-flowing spirit.

i need rest; a trickling stream in a dark and quiet wood.
i need magic, the kind that tingles the under side of the ribs.
i need peace, a light, a hot bubble bath to scrape away these sensations of exhaustion and ingrained filth, which seem sewn within my marrow, and underneath my eye lids.

but, your peace, i can take it.
i can **** it in through a straw of sunlight you decided to shine upon me.
i can absorb it through a smile,
interpret it through the way a small child plays in the sand.

you are my everlasting, never-wanting peace;
a body from which contentment is drawn, and beauty is mirrored.
you are silence, a dream within a dream, of which i know is real.
truth. the purity of which deserves eternal admiration, awe, and praise.

let it be that i drink of your spirit,
inhale your light,
eat of your manna.

you, a one who is so great,
you, and only you, are my heart's desire.

In my mind I see them, children of the land,
Black as darkest Africa, standing with an outstretched hand.
I see their stomach’s bloated, signs of despair,
Yet on I go with my life and couldn’t even care.

I smell the stench of flesh as vultures have their meal,
Yet my heart’s turned hard… too hard to feel.
…Hey I’m on top of the world, living out in Hollywood,
Everything’s fine and dandy… “It’s all good”.

Yet you and me we know, that somewhere they’re still out there,
But it’s far away in Africa, why should we even care?
I see their plight on TV and hear it on the news,
But that’s someone else’s problem, we all have our own views.

After all, it’s money that they’re really asking for,
And when it comes to that, well I just shut the door.
Cause even if I help them, they’ll only sink down deeper,
And after all… “Who made me my brother’s keeper?”.

Now in my mind they haunt me, these children of the land,
For I know I saw them standing with an outstretched hand.
And now when I see them lying… dying… thin, torn and bare,
I look down at that outstretched hand and can’t help but stare.

And although I pinch myself and vigorously blink my eyes,
I must painfully accept what now my heart denies.
For the hand that lies before me was painfully pierced through,
With a cruel rusty nail that was meant for me and you.

Now when in darkest Africa, walking down the street,
And just by chance, a child of the land, I’d happen to meet.
No longer will I cause a fuss and say,
“You’re bothering me”, “I have no time, just go away!”.

Instead I’ll take that hand, grip it real tight,
Open my heart and spread a little light.
For now I know the truth and although I shrink in shame,
The fact is: a heart without charity cannot call on His Name!

up down thirteen up
down fourteen up down sixteen
up down up down down

An ounze of gold, found in a river
Assessed as a diamond, swallowed in an ocean
When we met in England.
All of Aisa is painted in platinum
Diamonds in Bankok, too sordid to be seen.
If you had rare sight, extinct 2900 BC
You may see race in the reflection of platisation
And the ability to chip it off is as harmonious as it gets.

If not superiority found you, and alimim forefathered you
To follow your blessed unique connection
Narcissus is not all around you, nor is any other God
What exists as greatness is only you.

In true great form should be existentialism
Instead you think you are untouchable
However ignorant I find it
When my mother bought me here as a piglet
She said I would always stand alone in stoicism.

My two weakling hands on my delusional head
A face tattooed with tear lines of anguish and perplexity
I am sick and tired of being sick and tired of this game

Many are sea sick with zipped lips in this freezing old ship
Precious dreams and lives; thrown overboard
Let me plead one more time with this heartless captain
We are charting upstream against the current, Sir
Sir! Please sir
Our lives and the lives of the next generation;
                                                                                  In your hands
Do you not care that we are perishing
He has a big navigational map on the wall
A gargantuan telescope in his hands
Alas, he is blind
Blind man will crush the blind into an iceberg
He is distracted by his own personal greediness;
Woe unto us, he is not far from a two hundred feet iceberg
He reminds me of the titanic
He has a crew who are not seas worthy
They are wearing their office like they are on vacation
The cry and the wisdom of the weak falls into deaf ears
Sir, do you not care that we are perishing!

Can you be my camera for a minute, Sir?

Focus below deck, sir;
Children without formal education
The future generation is today’s labor engine
They walk on the thin line of child...
Child, what?
Child slavery, Sir
They are brain washed
Manipulated and abused

Zoom on the mid-deck, sir;
The young jobless internet savvy
A storm tossed creative thinkers
A young generation with no future
A future neglected without action plan
Driven to push through the storm
One direction; the wrong direction
They are the masters of...
Masters of?
Masters of internet fraud and drugs, Sir
Gang banging is their security
Just like a candle under the night wind;
Their light goes off prematurely in lightning speed

Zoom a little high on the upper deck, sir;
Square pegs on rounded holes
Mismanagement and embezzlement
Unpatriotically obsessive creatures
Fanning the toxic flames of an aged ship
While expertise waste at the shore for decades

Will you anchor?
Will you pause and reflect

His words: acidic
Emotions: volcanic
Problems: oceanic

If angels rules; would have cry to them
Maybe they would hear the cry of the weak

Grant us safe voyage,
Thou that watch over the weak
Be our anchor in the midst of the storm
May we not sink in this sea of incompetence
Be our strength and hope in this journey to the unknown
Father, if it be possible be our captain and lead us to bliss