Its a weird thing when you are constantly worried of dying
And then constantly worry about not dying
I wake up, alive, and i ask myself why
But then at the same time i fear dying everytime i step up on my bike
Its a weird thing
Life
Life is a weird thing
But i guess we have to deal with the hand we're dealt.

Do not forsake me the need to ascend.
We, in our platinum form
Do not require mothers, teachers, peers to remind us that one day the red soils will be left bereft of us.
We don’t require reminding.
Look down at yourself and consider your own outline.
We are shaped just so our eyes can compile us as human –
but not so that we require shaping still.
In the end, you can simplify.
Simplify yourself down. Until you are just circles, squares.
What is special about your own edge?
A human line, a form so easily replicated
It can be done by children in crayon.
A human line.
Allow yourself to ascend to your platinum form.

I talk to myself;
It scares me how much I do...
Maybe I need help.

Crosshatched tower of black ropes
Spiral towards poofy marshmallow clouds
A tempation for each passing youth
To gather around in crowds
All together the creatures, they climb
Grasping rope and some stranger's limb
Bodies fall to the earth like potato sacks
No limits in order to win...

I'm a poet in my prime
Spiffing up my rhymes

I'm a legend can't you see
Only my words feel they spew to you and me

I'm a master at this connection!!!

My wonderful phrases
Creep into your heart
They pierce through like a dart
Shattering, mattering, caving a meaning
Keepin ya dreaming... beliving, comforting the soul!

Theese word like a bowl -- fill you up: with love, desire, the power to ignite!

I can only imagine what the rhymes in a singy-songy fashion
With fervor, power, and a burst of flaming passion turn up on paper

How they are presented by the maker

The writer, poet, artist of words - flowing, stringing tieing in the clarity with blurs

Creating a canvas that paints a moment through the feeling of words cascading by feeling, not structure

That sounds absurd, but these moments are momentous, in a passion of flury strung up in a phrase that summons the whole day

And the day has gone by, so has the year -- but I must keep rapping through poetry lyrics

I might not be as quick, fast, slick, or hip as some
With funky names, large persona, or partrying till we see the sun

I am a rapper of the moment in its purest sense -- of human nature and its surroundings through my philosophy, wisdom, passion, and emotions

I hope this year 2017, will acommadate this year's fast run

the maroons and reds of your youth echoed in my heart creating a fire the aorta couldn't fathom
i watched you from greenhouses where flowers unveiled their beauty when you touched-
i can still see your eyes, dark, so dark where’d they go? why can’t i see the moon anymore?
me drinking cotton candy bullets as if you engraved my name in the single metal alloy
where is my name on your journals, i thought you said you loved me?

What's up
  You are asleep
Or maybe you was captured by a giant yodeling ant eater
  ****
That some crazy **** that flew out of my fingers
  I'm a wizard
One of a kind
Pef
Pooof
Still the same....
I used to talk to stoves
  But now I got this painting  Quietly Sitting inside an upside down hourglass
Twiddling my thumbs rotating my cancer in my hand  
I got this musical Notes playing out of this clever earmuff
So soothing that I fall into a slipped universe
Got these pictures on my wall
  Shows what the past looked like sometimes it just speaks to you  and manipulates you  just like a painting

-Paul R Hensley |||

Blue orbs of blue
eyes of oceans
eyes of skies
eyes of winter
eyes of ice

Green orbs of green
eyes of grass
eyes of lime
eyes of moss
eyes of thyme

Brown orbs of brown
eyes of chocolate
eyes of rust
eyes of tree-roots
eyes of dust