Whole
Life
Through


I hope to write

Looking
At
You

Wait for the night to come,
It may not be an actual night,
You know that already, right?
Express your love for the paramour,
Afterwards, take a shower together,
Now sleep well and tight,
Tired from the night.

Wake up next day to find yourself lazy,
Hungover from the last night,
Hold your pen and paper steady,
Or maybe just switch on the internet,
Remember the last night from the gown,
Or maybe from the disheveled hair,
Or from the crumpled bed sheet.

Remember both of yours silent screams,
As you loudly whispered, "I love you baby!"
Then you finally collapsed into each other,
Into the puddle of love potions emanated,
Sticky yet soft, messy yet romantic,
Full of love and potent enough for new life,
Remember that you are husband & wife.

The way some mates
Most times use their brain
Helps to ease my pain
Whenever I feel deranged

Their poetical way
Could be describe as sane

People like B_ViRGE
Who keeps me inspired
Every time I feel mentally tired

Or great minds like Muhsin
And the quote-master HMC
And my StreetPoetry cliques
Who doesn't seem
To need a war machine
To rescue or ****

No protective barbed-wire
Or an heavy gunfire
To fight an empire

Cos' their style of war;
Is lyrically pure
Their battling style;
Is well designed;
In poetic lines

Their artistic rhyme;
Could help invert;
The hate-filled mind;
To the rightful path;
Of love and light

And touch the lives
Of those whose life
Are filled with strife

To help ordain
The lost and strayed;
To find their way;
To the rightful place;
they're destined to reign

Their thoughts are gold
The type not-sold

Their words could bring joy
And sometimes a sword
To conquer war
Or break the jaw
Of those whose talk
Are filled with bluff

They're masters of words
Whose art will ever soar
Till forever exhaust

un breloque,
a novel,
un tonique moitié plein

sweet chicory; wild,
a japanese maple

a lectern, a candle, a pendant;
lent
waves bring in water that melts the cement

holy

holy a lordy sing me poormans-hymn
nothing is true when nothing is not
to is is to be is to know now,
you see?

holy

who what is and who is what's not
this is truth spread out on loaf
this is riddle to a rhyming oaf
never simply,

holy

from highest heaven to lowest vale
carry the sound like an orchestra,
a procession of violent brasses rising…