There's a spiders web
Of words I've said
Entangled in the calendar of time
A lovers rhyme of feelings

In minutes or moments or moves
I fell in love with you
A game of chess
Just to feel your breath upon me

I'd wish to call anyone
That singular one
The fable of teachings
Says we're reaching for something impossible

To not feel love across lanes
Indeed, sounds insane
We are wide, we are vast
We are fast to feel full at last.

He approaches, from a completely different background.
He sees an odd, irregular image
Minding its own business.

He approaches and the image moves.
The irregular image faces him as he admires it.
It is smothered in beauty,
So much, but he doesn't understand it.

She, the image, sees him too.
She falls in love with his body's outline,
But when he steps into the light,
She doesn't understand her love anymore.

Mutual love was clouded by race.

Eventually, they learned to love their differences.
They created art through their differences;
Contrasting colours thrived in their newly ordained similarities - obtained through love.

Multi-racial relationships are the artwork of humankind.

Sometimes I sit and write,
Poems about you and I,
About me and love, and love and sorrow
But in the mirror of my heart,
I realized they are all about me and I.

Feathers torn from the gaping napes of wind began to dwindle and resist in spite of the gravity crushing tsunami.

Trapped in a facade of  impersonating flowing rain every feather dived to their unplanned descent.

All drowning in the nightmarish truth of actually being smothered in tears of a blue eyed-giant as they fell from the sky of that big blue eye’s, dead decapitated face.
A face severed on a head that hid a heavenly chateaus inside a false impersonated globe forever resting among the stars.

Inside housed all kinds of dimensional beings rarely ever seen but all known to possess legendary archaic features.
They mastered all the realms and lastly rule our skies.
They are cold warriors of combat- handled by their deadly grace, poisonous envy,  blinding halos, and suffocating wings…

Oh such undeniably divine things!

First plucked from you, then stolen from me!


A conscious belief known only by those who wish to remain unseen

as we become the common theory of all your pretty inanities.