¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯
please let the
author'd
man
take heed!
let his steps
hold firm and
emboldened
by his only
Father
and
let him
compose a
life worth
reading!

﹊
for
ev'ry
man is
given a gift,
the quill of choice
and the inkwell of his
own will and reason,
and should he take
care to fill it with
his col'r—the
onliest brand
of his deepening
desire—then let him.
and, let him strike at the
pages with precision—as a
surgeon of the parchment for
he never wastes a page and
should he always have
a word to say,
then
let him
compose a
life worth
reading!

﹊
may
he teach
his children well
and may their choices
be a song—sweet lyrics
of their compassion
and innocence.
and let them
cherish
their
gifts and
practice proper
penmanship that their
choices in life may encourage
those both young and old and that
they may inspire those that misuse
their only gift not to author
their filthy obscenities
and blasphemies
and curses
against
both
Father and
fellow man. and
should any man advise
his own to embrace the
expressions of pace
and of repetition
or should he
encourage
them to
speak
once,
then
*let him
compose a
life worth
reading!

By Arcassin B & fnb

AB:
I could turn a butterfly into a daffodil tear,
Growing the inside out,
Fly with me to paradise,
And forget all your peers,
Or you lose your body like poltergeist.
FNB:
Feel the soft grass glide beneath your toes
The sweet flower scent rush through your nose
To paradise together we flew,
Or from my grave, crawling back to you,
AB
And as I keep crawling,
Your loving keeps calling,
Not mad at your insecurity sometimes,
Red lights and stop signs,
Freeze in place while your ahead,
Like arriving in Oakland,
Please just follow what's along the lines,
Leave loose ends but your minds ties,
But we don't die we multiply,
We become as one,
And one in mind.

By Arcassin B & blue

OB
"He likes to laugh,
And look happy,
His good humor is never off,
Doesn't mind to sound sappy.
But people don't imagine
That he's just pretending.
Pretending to be happy
When his life is a disaster
Showing he is lucky,
But to his end running faster.
For this he can only blame his own,
Finally being what he is : a sad clown. "
AB
Her smile,
I put in notebooks,
The elegance of skin is so soft,
I seen beauty for all it took,
Passive unanswered messages,
Not really big on answering,
Questions of your aura as it happen,
Mood swings so staggering,
But sorrow is so saddening,
Pressured memories,
Haunt you at midnight,
So you stay up talking to me,
Is the only time you ever wanna reply.