Aqua Regia! Conquerer o' Kings,
A quick,flashing stab in the heart.
The dilapidated remains, crumbling,
Like fantasies of a tyrant destroyed.
Three parts will, and one part heart,
A magnificent creature shall be born.
A beast of gold,of silver arrayed,
In stacking blocks of haute couture.
It fears no strength,no power,
In all its nobility it advances.
Swatting aside mice and rulers alike,
It gushes forward with with stunning delight.
Aqua Regia! Champion o'the poor.
Creeps up like a woodland Robin,
With no need nor like for a hood.
The phantasm keeps it's friends close,
And enemies, closer yet.
Waiting for the clocks to align,
It splits into myriad ephemeral images.
One to destroy, one to save,
Another to watch over the kings and the knaves.
Aqua Regia! Thy magnificent beast,
With a bright light, it wanders yonder.
Skirting like a dandelion in the sky,
Across the vast expanse of ignorance.
Choosing not,the path of least resistance,
It grins at it's clever fabrications.
For it's place has been,and will be,
To remain a tyrannical,benevolent enigma.

The world around me has become more alive
But not happy
They are awake
And they are angry
We are the fallen
But not defeated
No matter how many battle wounds we endure
We will not hemmorage
For we are the sensitive but not weak
Observant with tired eyes
Our voice trembles but we speak
Oh but when we speak
You won't forget a single word
The world around me is testing me
They are ravenous but they won't break me
Resiliency has become me

It hurts more than pain.
It falls more than rain.
It rises more than the sun.
It is never slain.
It is far from a game.
More powerful than death.
It will keep you up at night.
It will give you rest.
Its the worst.
Its the best,
Its the only real test.
Its confusing as it gets.
understood as its blessed.
It can be faked, but its real.
fills you more than a meal.
It leaves you empty,
feeling lost.
And there's no going back.
It will tear you apart,
it will keep you intact.
Sometimes we wonder, what did we really have.
There is a time to be humble,
And a time to just love back.

So open our minds could be
To invite each side with a balanced scene

So loud our voices could carry
The righteous solution of a perfect recipe

With the ingredients so perfectly married
Of love, fairness and honesty

But instead our eyes are glued to the screen
Downloading illusions with influence and monotony

The information, as fake as the food we're eating
Served on a silver plate to convince it's certainty

All to rid us of the power we carry
Which is masked with negativity
To confuse us of the reality
That gives us the possibility
To accept one another's beliefs
To agree to disagree
To think for ourselves without all the censoring

If all this was a probability
Our home wouldn't be so naive
Our children would grow into a future of positivity
With certainty of security
And we could all live ever happily

But instead we are taught that fairy tales are for t.v. only
From the same screen controlling our identities

Powerful roots
pressing through the cement
of chaos, technology, negativity.

A stem, leaves,
slightly choked,
but not forsaken.

Despite the  constant struggle,
sun & fresh air soak through
the pores
of it's delicate skin.

The flesh empowered,
a bud appears.
Vibrancy and life pop
as the petals
u n f o l d.

The flower of life exists
to remind all beings...

*Love, peace, oneness
are the focus
of our thoughts.
The power is within,
but is useless without
exertion.
Share the knowledge
everyday.

Love always.
Love strongly.
Love deeply.
Love truly.

You say we're just writers
Twiddling our pencils
Twisting your words to
match our ink meddled minds
Display our work of messy art
into something wondrous enough
for some to find intriguing..
For some to find truth..
You say words don't mean ****
So why is it that,
you react so harshly to our actions
When you know our art packs a punch
Don't **** with us writers
Because we know just how to expose you for who you really are

She's abandoned.
She's sick.
She's so sweet,
Her heart is thick.
She's full of flaws,
Scars on every inch of her skin,
She doesn't speak because no one listens.
Depressed but mistaken for happy.
Locks the emotions away when she's angry.
Pleases everyone else without acceptation for herself.
She adopted a lonely spirit,
Whom replaced the one she was born with.
Over time they beat the crap out of her,
She could only feel more alone, then.
She has so many experiences that you just would  not believe.
They'd sound like stories and even more they'd make you feel like you had just gotten beat.
They'd make you feel the need to feel free and alive,
She's been killed and brought back to this devil of her life.
She's been destroyed and put together again so many times,
She doesn't know when it'll end but she's already gone inside.
Her mind is so open you could walk right in.
Have a seat, look around, ask any questions.
You can pick her heart up and she won't even gasp,
Until you drop it and the pieces cut you like glass.
She'll run for the broom and pick it all up,
Sew together that beautiful cut.
She hopes that now she's worthy of your presence and memory.
She wants to be cared for,
She needs company.
Every day is the same for her, nothing ever changes.
The suffering is routine and she hides all the pain.
Even though she's so hurt that she has a knife by her bed,
She can not seem to think of leaving her head.
If someone should come in and sit down and read,
They too,
Will have the knife,
But never be able to leave.

in a world where we pray to be united
within the grasp of wholehearted humanity
standing tall
we sink in the dirt beneath our feet
and holding our heads up high we sing with the utmost pride
a song of which becomes a chanting notion
setting the tone for revenging entities
growing weary of the unwanted waste we toss our visions in the sea
without daring to take the promising chance

how are we to stand together
in a castle built to crumble in its past?

and yet we become the fools
lost in the fight and lost in our grieving
we walk the streets with our banners and our anger
without understanding what we are feeling

let me take you back to nineteen sixty three
when we marched on Washington
and we were lead by a King
what merely started as the seed of a dream
became the prelude to never ending history
yet with each milestone comes adversaries
and we still cry the tears of our fallen fathers
we still cry to be free

but remember my brothers and sisters
to be mindful in your actions
for blood does not wash blood away
and because the tongue can be a sword
be mindful of every single word you say
the whole world is unjust
be emotional if you must
but the time is now to be reflective
to be knowledgeable
to be respected
because the hearts of our sons and daughters
still need to be protected

the sun my still set orange
and they moon may still shine white
the day may still end at quarter to
the moment everything is night
and in each passing day are you going to become the change that is needed to win the fight?

are you going to do what's right?