Perhaps a butterfly making love with a flower,
the world’s soul, perfume for the world. Despite
it, I cannot rest properly, my dreams are too full
with life. Not even poetry can ease or calm, it
just enhances.

My thoughts are free, my body is in chains,
freedom in places of danger, bringing down steel
cuffs in lands of peace. Produced a being of
paradoxes, poetics,  unfulfilled romance, philosophy
that isn’t articulated and the dramatics. Venture
into the reality of existence, go with knowing
there’s horror and reasons to smile. Truth will bring
no gold. Coffee, jazz and dreams of love, a poet
already has. What has killed the illusions of this world
and for some that I had, who lives along in this
world, had left me in bitterness, but provide a
sense, I could finally touch destiny. There is
no hope for those, just wanting to fit into
this world. It has been done before and created
injustice, ignorance and inequality
(Knowledge Variable)

Full of life, vibrant and radiant, grew up and grew apart,
to both of our surprises, I took control and went out,
making something of myself, there’s bitter resentment
in your voice, to everytime you speak. Now we barely
keep in touch. Acting like I’ve got be living for the block.
Devil in your grin, Satan in you lies. How come you look
with hateful envy? How come, it’s my fault of what you
did with your life?  Every time I go to embrace, you turn away.
Where were you when I needed love?
(There we both came from the same place, it’s the money
and the struggle got us changing places. People yield to
trends, sins committed, people attempt to repent, but they
recommit to sins, I guess it’s their essence and it's the way
it is, I knew my cousin was on dope, I lived in poverty.
Providing reasons to become a ****** as the poor nature,
Suffocates me while I’m clean and I broke free. Life goes
on. I’m alive again, writing in stride, it’s adrenaline based
motivation, I’m little awakened than most. I just wanted to live.)

(Knowledge Variable)
I can remember when the sun rose for
the first time in my life, it overloaded
my whole being with neolife, along
with neo-thoughts and sensations, I
burst into tears, disregarded my past
and it to the evening stars, like those
little rocks on the road I just walked on,
it has stayed in past, like it should,
dispersed with the supernovas. From
than, some people I saw, afflicted like
me, lived more fuller as the rest, are
seen as the walking dead, as they should
be perceived. The thought of the world,
where everyone’s muse lives, continues
to weigh me down, the act of pursuing
Residency there lightens as every step
Taken. Any act of art that I undertake,
is mere step towards it, like in every
moment I continue to develop my
true and original self, leads me towards
the deepening of my own awakening.
Now by experiencing the present, it
becomes more of a parent to my future.
Pounding heart, breathless scenes of
enchantment, I can only change those
who pay attentions and walk in, with
or without fear.  I can only open up,
like the sun, to whose make effort to
do the same with me. Darker the life,
the brighter it shines, deeper the bitterness,
the closer they becoming a god.

If you never experience real love, you’ve never lived,
never been heartbroken, never attempted to find love.
Poetry created from both lovers and the heartbroken.
Destroying dice, never kills chance, destiny can,
cellos and tenors, emotions in sound, thoughts lay
dormant, till spoken philosophers moan, exiled spirits
spread with velvet and scarlet, a spotless spree of
rough dawns and silver-golden glowing romance nights.
Novelists and drink coffee with cinema, speaking with
French conversations. Returning, making love with
all the farewells. Life itself, a deep sleep for some
and crazy, like wildfire mystics for the rest, who do
more than desire to live life. Rather, I’ll sleep now,
awake for too long, in attempt to outdo my lover.
Piercing blue, heavy on awakening, pressing upon
me, poetic words for poetry and memories now,
for nostalgia in the future, present experience in crazy
contentment, untamed where that's the only way
to experience someone you love.
(Knowledge Variable)

In reading past philosopher's, a concerto conversation
in historic fashion and expressed in poetry. A soul
trembling, mystic produced, words to murmur all through
a moon-lit, silver night and see the sun rise again.
Descent from the mundane, where void is birthed,
watch life expressed in mystical beauty.
(Knowledge Variable)

To my muse, that pulled me out of
a still place, where I was a offspring
of my past, placing me here, as a
parent to my future. Where this
present, converts itself into loving
memories, content at the same time,
anticipate the future, working towards
overloading love to live the experience

There are poets, who sink into
themselves, deep into the infinite,
where their soul once melted over
and emptied. A poet to be kissed,
hugged and gestured to. Blossomed,
intertwined, like tangled vines.
In person, they have nothing to say
but spark so much, in their loud poetry.

Her torch reflecting and piercing eyes, wise
and watching-over forever. From my
vanishing smoky glare, pine, eyes. Do I
dare to go closer? Her beauty scares me,
Aura, dipped, angel-like and majestic.
My soul pushes for a spontaneous
outburst of a romantic daring. Her wisdom,
something admire, even outside poetry.
Thoughts scattered and departed from me,
and it’s too late, she’s burnt in my memory.
I contemplate the future, will it bring me to
tears, to write with my tragic hands poetry
of regret? I spoke up. She moved closer

A self induced hardship - desiring without action,
dreaming ruthless castle-like magnificence. Aiming
towards Heaven.