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Jan 2018 · 277
Like A ticking Chance
When, like a ticking chance, lust tracks one down,
Even My cheap seduction is to die for, mourn to.  
Would we focus better on the after ride
when guilt and unquestioned answers are homeless
Love in her gear is slowly roaming through the house,
Her face naked next to my chase,
A pent in a piece of chess,
Crowned to the dome, Hello
She then Comes, like a razor talking,
cut the tie between stunning and grinding,
Deliver me who bless in my tribe,
Of lust am brighter than Qonga's trap
The tap of the Escorting charming tongue,
her rooted shape Of the bone inch
Heat drawn from a glimpse of cold
All naked under her fitted clothes


O! Deliver me, my Sotho masters,
head and heart, hardly Proud
The heart of a Champ baked thin,
When blood, *****-shaded, and the logic tribe
Drives a gift up like bruises to the thumb,
From maid and head, From Beard and Gloss
For, Saturday faced, with culture on my rhythm,
Sweat in my palm ,A gun on my mouth
Shooting Blanks with my speech
I am the man with a sensual eye,
I, those time's ***** or the Boat of a die
May fail to bore a ****** event eventually
not Even In the straight shave,
I shall not invite my Dominance for a Grade


Struggled through beauty's scent on my wrist,
Small brain masters to dust when a touch blows
despite of the Fore faith in the play's stunt,
I Kissed oxytocin and it began telling tales,
The narration of how tall is lust
She failed to understand, it’s a body language,
made of a series of alphabets before
the letter ‘A’.
I understand, She could not stand that
breathing silently, shaking readily,
Heart beating loudly, sight shining blurry
pleasured in ways she cannot sell or share
So she chew before she took a bite
Imagination is a not a foolish fantasy,
swimming under the face of Earth, before I could feel it
and the *** stain On my gear and face and she said
Yes, yes, you lover chauffeur, Take me to your darkest hour
Steering Ascends downhill, That costs a day ride,
New tires, With a Firm grip I took an honor.
down facing safe danger in the hangar
tied tight, Held close, A journey made of trips
I drew a handful song on a summer dust
She Painted bridges with an eraser, unsafe functions of Algebra,
Every city tar on my crib begin to scratch the duty and order


Humming with her eyes through my neck.
Singing wet tour composed by the absence of lies
She lied and laid weakened on her knees like a maid
Fitted Bars of shades on her routine,
The body language ,She heard the bold poke for attention
The dust is faster than the speed,
I watered fire in a catalytic script,
For Every twist between the easement and the creation
I stole her scent, studied her smile
and dominated the source of pride
Everything ends, But the town’s suffice for two among us,
Had her with the seventh gear of a lead,
the leaning scene of a spear and a shield
I had a silent fling with warm and pointy
******* stable as a pillow,
I Give, I summon, I have the power to taze the lioness
gaze her *** shaking her calm
uncontrollably like a cemented skin,
A bridge crossed and we hunt scenes,.
All, the bumpy curves, the whole slit
roaring turns coughing contagiously,
cliffs are loading zones fuelled with tricks,
exploring the forbidden side,
That’s when she burbs thanks.
As a new chapter, A call to re-open terms.
Negotiating for a stay, she can’t quickly beg for more.
I give her all, That’s all.
Jan 2018 · 139
When the heart bleeds
My friend draw a spoken bleeding, stiff, relieving
piece Seed of the migrated heart of his twin,
A Gemini whispered question in my ear -
Pray, what was God, if you be religious?
Sigh, what was witch, if you be rebellious
If a savior were only here just now,
Among the city's blades and graves
Teaching the life he taught us, how
Would he be welcome to your tales?
The untold, the unseen and the unjust.


I go and tease your logic-straws,
A sip of former-friends with memory swayed,
A cup of petty ways and narrow laws,
A drink of blood and your love, deserted.
From your inevitable dark lies, I flee
I know not where, like a wondering cry
Full of blood drools, unsounded splash
I swim from your dishonest means.
As I have no means of being a fling.
If you know what I mean.


Is he Alone on that unsounded deep ?
Poor genius,  may his wisdom never perish,
Not Far from the course I thought to keep,
Not Far from the friends I hoped to cherish.
It may be that I shall sink, and yet
Hear, through smart, angry and bitter laughter,
Through all defeat and all regret,
The stronger swimmers coming after.
Jan 2018 · 145
The Allegory of the Pathway
I live in a world where a path illustrates a conflict
trying to capture the internal realities,
wait for it


I suffer the explanation of every path
For all The Truth striving to remind mankind of what Allah has gave
wait for it


I heard The greater conflict triggering a soul
shuttering the whole meaning but I sensed what comes close is conscious
wait for it


A suraah of oath is not only a chapter of hope

I gazed upon words being said, but not understood
like When the sun soothe completely out,providing morning light
wait for it


I reflect on equidistand madness and gentleness
like When the moon is full,it draws the full light from the sun
wait for it


I reflect on approval following responsibility
as The sequence of the moon trailing the sun
wait for it


As the day gives life a full exposure
Do you see it ?
As Morning gives brilliance to a day
Can You feel it ?
As The night covers the light of the sun
Even silence succumbs to it.


I have duties to meet and deem
as the sun has roles and characters to build
wait for it


“I swear by the sky and what and who made it
who is,is the origin of imagination
what is,is the verb of attributes
the fundamental of powers and forces embedded in
The fuse of inseperables
The flaw of dependables
The remarkable creation”


I have a dilemma,how should I honour these abilities
What if they trip my balance,steal my stability and sorry my advance
Such as The Sun and the moon,The day and the night
wait for it

I have an exceptional rival between instinct and reason
Such as the conflict between the sun and the moon
between The day and the night
All those are different worlds with limits
You waited for it ?


I piloted a system creating chances and plough like
An oath clash during the intersection of Water and a bubble
opportunities blowing like a reflection of wind
When would we know the truth is within the seed
Should I tell you to wait for it ?


The conscious of issueing the existence of a threat
commanded is conscious when I imagine guilt,fear,failure
Can I  pull equal weight on both threat and guilt
both fear and failure
reflect on your self and your conscious
remember how balanced are they
remarkable empty desires
Am I too close to it ?


My conscious sends a reminder about our profound reality
The human heart makes you measure touch,and feel width
The human gut makes you measure navigation,and see height
I was told There is no definition for Personality
Unless the perception is self,not being slaves to no lens
Unless growth is a fact,not being excused for a piece in a rand
Unless that makes you puke such as I we have a common solution
Ever since medicine reduced human into chemicals,hormones,
All it ever did was seducing human into status,choices .
Working with what we can see and what we cannot see
There exist every tablet for me to overcome that for every dent caused by
invisible deals and means that leans towards the inclination of
what is good in us and what is not in advance
Even the soil provides clay
Even the moist provides clarity
Even the sand proves
Everytime I feel mentally hungry,
I get fed with food from earth



Then I recall my worth,I was taught
The concern is my body’
whether body as self or self as fame
Suffocating the inner
covering myselves with clothes to console the outer
handing justice two things
the portion of the unseen,the untouched and the untold
As I told the heart,How fashionable can I dress it
Like a :
A scent of diseases
A lamp of desires
A dozen of fears
A gutter of love
A dosage of hate
A lumpsum of anger
A sample of emotions
A ring of resentment
Married to influences
Ignoring the needs of the soul
Even though The heart is the territory
hearing,listening and seeing is the allegory
Because we see and we hear the truth
A feeling more powerful than thought
Nothing I never thought I would have bought.
Justice lies in the interest of the forceful
And the wrath of means that are unlawful
A brutal curve during 1800's
African prison system was brought through
Guiltless spent time in cells
Consequence of the pass laws
No ground to stand
Observing the defeat over their land
No legacy to mend
With their bare fits and wits,
They had inheritance to shed  
Civilisation introduced to Afrikans
The ideology is a slow process
Resounding failures
frontal setbacks,
Bright darkness
Even today
You and I is a witness
Or you missed that ?

Now
Last of all comes the severe man,
About whom we have to wonder,
We abide as Slave citizen
He came through a form of a revered writing
Wearing a complexion of the slave master
Whence is he, or is he an enigma
or his coming is a paradox
Does he exist as a palindrome
in happiness or in misery?
In length or in depth
In fact,
There is,
however,
A list of grieving interrogations I have,
Which I should like to consider first.
Most of them are illegal,
Some of them are liberal
None of them are answered
Yet weakened in various degrees
By the strength of reason and law scenes.
I mean those which are awake when the
Reasoning powers are asleep,
Which get up and travel around without rights
Without any knowledge of self or state of belonging;
With a potential of conceivable accusations or crime,
However cruel or unnatural,
Of which,
In imagination,
They may not be guilty.


Very True, I declare;
But when a man’s pain beats drastically;
Conforming under a feast of sorrow
failure comes home to reside  
Just before fear of prosecutions goes to rest,
The solution is a systematic arrest
Which remains being the nature of the rest,
Invoked characteristics lays tests,
The visions which he has on his bed
Are least irregular and defective.
Which marvels out in sleep.
Arguing like a temperamental insubordinate,
That he who Is mistaken about the crime
Is a jailor in that he is mistaken?
Or that he who stumble in poverty or liberty
Is a poverty-stricken or libertarian at the time
he is misunderstood,
In respect of the error?
Give or take the era, he is lame
True, we say that the game
Is the fact is that neither the poverty-stricken nor any other
cause of life course and the skill ever made any sense
In so far as he is what his name implies;
Soiled with dirt and false diseases
until their skill fails them,
and then they cease to be
skilled ******,
smart drug traffickers,
artisans that paint with blood to be even
Not even the confused sage with no name
is present at the time when he is
what his name implies;
though he is commonly said to
misjudge,
misremember,
drift
To stray and roll until the truth slips up
out of bed and that’s never sad
While he stumble until he trips up
and I also adopted the unremarkable
mode of misunderstanding.
But to be perfectly accurate,
since you adore accuracy,
Would it be prudent to declare that the ruler,
In so far as there is a swayer, is not liable to error,
Or measuring the greatness of the dishonourable,
as far as that is the case,
Never commanded for the interest of the hopeless;
Should I rest my chase or less,
wake up read the book of those who offers little with no hope
Or else,
The area of imprisonment
would be minimized,
no chance to be analysed
and the subject is designed
to execute commands;
and therefore,
as I said at first and
now
repeat with me,
Justice lies in the interest of the forceful.
Which is better, a clock that is right only once a year, or a clock that is right twice every day?
"The latter," you reply, "unquestionably." Very good, now attend.
I have two clocks: one doesn't go at all, and the other loses a minute a day: which would you prefer? "The losing one," you answer, "without a doubt."
Now observe: the one which loses a minute a day has to lose twelve hours, or seven hundred and twenty minutes before it is right again, consequently it is only right once in two years, whereas the other is evidently right as often as the time it points to comes round, which happens twice a day.
So you've contradicted yourself once.
"Ah, but," you say, "what's the use of its being right twice a day, if I ca'n't tell when the time comes?"
Why, suppose the clock points to eight o'clock, don't you see that the clock is right at eight o'clock? Consequently, when eight o'clock comes round your clock is right.
"Yes, I see that," you reply.
Very good, then you've contradicted yourself twice: now get out of the difficulty as best you can, and don't contradict yourself again if you can help it.
You might go on to ask, "How am I to know when eight o'clock does come? My clock will not tell me." Be patient: you know that when eight o'clock comes your clock is right, very good; then your rule is this: keep your eye fixed on your clock, and the very moment it is right it will be eight o'clock.
"But--," you say.
There, that'll do; the more you argue the further you get from the point, so it will be as well to stop.
Oct 2017 · 169
SLOW DOWN!
Childish slaves of social rules on these rooms,
we might be networking, I’m guessing
we had ourselves a name in making!
How I could shake our faith, tint our rate,
If I thought we worth the shame.
I see, and pity our deprived potential.
In search of better, brighter purpose,
A route confined through our senseless minds.


And, careless of our Town's set of rules,
We need to rule when we Seek
real friendship that ride outs
Among the friends of our own selecting,
liberals,mentalists,simpletons and inventors
None of their existence should be
a virtual depict with a status
Up to date I so wish we can hate these laws
so wisdom can never aboned us,
Although I honour their wits
salute their processes
all I hope is that reasoning
should always move us to it.


We need take our old philosophy from the rack,
under our hats
dust it off,
without any particula pond we fish
besides,
a rod is the floating reasoning
Unless the brain one is wearing
is dining on ices
bestowed with fantasies like a pieces
There is no loss
just as we are earthily men.
And who only dress to please self
so please slow down with our judgments
We own,a very strange list of belongings.
W smoke ****, sneeze guilt
lose a few cells
As we bake our social laws
sneer between two puffs of smoke,
and blow ourselves with insight,
Our choice of life has nothing to halt it.
It’s dead right,It’s cross faded
Everything differs according to definition
So is our set of rules for surviving
Speed up on eliminating life below ourselves
slow down on embracing life beyond our can.
Until we can
Well then, if we agree, it is not odd
that one man's filth is another's wealth
or that the true pleasures comes from
a magnitude of abnormal achievements;
anticipation of gray shades on human error
is our life's constant coefficient.
Perception betrays with its blindspot:
Fate tracks always meet, not here, but only
in the impossible mind's sight;
intentions beats recognition as we commence
on thin sheens crawling to overtake that lens
where highlight captures pretense cleansing darkness.

So we could stand up, move on, darling, you and I,
until the glare tick out the rest in the worst
nothing changes, for all the blazing of
our drastic style, but leading hands that move
forcefully from adorable to done.
We raise our arguments like a diluted depict
heave to a better angle for screen clarity
shake logic with escape of comfort
and contradict ourselves for humor;then pixels leak
raw wind dries our stand and we put on
the heights as an oath; love is a tinted gloss
who insists her associates play in the rain.

Now you, my sophisticated fading icon,
would you have me carry the dry lands  
Or swallow the future and coat consequences
to store them on a cloud, down
the server in one language:
Drawing vowels from a loop through the dark
we only left with [L.P] played at 3:33 am
should it overwhelm the almost awake town.
cycling phoenix never stops to frame
If it should, should it be real or
should it sketch drunks upon the vignette
and Rands spent in dubious doorways
Our Valentine habits, engraved decoders
dining close to burning candles with our expired heads;
I donate applauds, until the same cause attacks again
scattering image from imagination,
recovering from ghost shots of exposure.

The rise leans down to hook; the resounding leak
in the dustbin sinks and drowns; we consume
divine west and east and sigh
how do you do,
and then how do you do again
to a blind breathing routine
till our harsh melodies reaches
to call for a cut on our restored scenes;
capturing photocopied reflections,
shutter opens where black or white begins
and separate the film from focus:
the philosophy of absolute apertures
exposed in a retina of moralities
which idealist call absolute, and rationalist, myth:
an insight like the prism of mirrors:

The result that mangle direct gaze is flipped,
while knowing the secret of their glaucoma is going;
some day, to move, and drop,
trace a wound that heals collections
only to reopen as flash thickens:
So we shall walk barefoot on chatroom walls
build our bed as high as a dead silhouette;
Duplicating the pain in our own tears:
Today : we start to pay the optic with each infrared,
yet love knows not of perception nor reality above
the simple sum of collages.
Oct 2017 · 145
TOUCH
"THE MOST COMPLICATED PATTERNS ARE HIDDEN IN PLAIN SIGHT"
Oct 2017 · 271
Twenty Six stolen years
I really talked at large before
twenty six stolen years were actually stolen,
shots in my mind,
A hero’s wound gunned down
and I captured every scene
Brilliant! If you never ask me.
But who can write of give and take if
timepiece took what was given,
Must not all themes at last be puked up in lineage
Like a template of What is and what will never hold fairness
What should occur and what not to occupy our vacant heads
While we Recite recycled absent memories
Aren't we all clones of different races
Or a moving image of looped events ?

A "Book of  Good News" declared we should still hope
Till Ama-Afrika conquer what will never be;
Even if it does exist!
But who is there to argue such with a right mind,
and pretend not to see the absolute lie
given The complexion of politics is stolen but never be sold
And is our logic to outweigh
every becoming that will never be,
Are we Addicts of false orders ?

How could fantasy not imagine
while the engineering of fate still watch
Every Second with a third reference
For those new years Misfortune have never defined,
Only in True logic or on the fingertip of a hardworking
that I came to learn :
Getting ourselves out of our ways will get our means out of despair.
The Present Past and the Future is a present,
Surprise!
Time Mastered to interfere with our give and never-take
Is this A dialogue between fear and failure ?
The initial concussion was prudently timed,
but not as tremendous as the distorted appearance of
the authentic invisible line that rules the blur side of site.
Subsequently, Would the dead dot find out ?

The deception was born three centuries earlier than the date
On the Earth’s birth credential,the Calendar!
which gave a power exemption to the hands of the eager,
Had we been trapped...
In logic, like psychology mistaken for philosophy
And why did They... what was in it for Plato and
Will it take us all our lives to figure it out ?

The Psych has the source of pride,
“That which truly is can’t come into being,
Can’t change in any respect, and can’t perish.  
That which becomes never truly is.
So, things that come into being, alter and eventually perish never really exist.”

On the other grip, The uninformed's portion was no worse then
Than it is now.
The distribution of labor made sense
In theories developed by the ancestor
of the school of speculation
Who grasped the rationale their origin had used
To ****** and deceive, reduce and receive.

The arrangement looped itself, the same case
In a different procedure complying the conventions of
A popular character.
The cold of a desolate native.
Imprisonment, Mentally accredited and
While there’s hardship still on the bars and,
In the window, a clear path is always vivid.
The sight was Buried earlier.

Now, The panic is absent.
But the pain still stands.
And the blade, The pistol,and the Cheap prescriptions
for the wretched are only a few decisions away.
Sep 2017 · 192
Live Long and Prosper
In the dawn
The universe may rain ego and rancor but
I want you to fight like cats and dogs.
Shape four skilled intersections twice like the Empire in the hands         of an octopus
And May you Shelter poetic architectures that last virtually as the life of a tortoise.


At Twelve hundred
split into matching halves by drawing imaginary lines through our Psyche and central axis
Because I want you to Puke instinct and weight like the brains of a pigeon engaged solid as a donkey,
So we can all possess the strength of an elephant and
Shine radical and symmetrical like Brittle stars.
Just opine.



Formerly sunset and ahead sunrise
sleep-talk the way dolphins seem to.
Cease to Contain clueless courage as
Humans have complex ears to translate what our blind eye can process.
Mimic the recordings during rest ages,
but even boars can figure out how to make the same sounds we do.
We all want the lion's share so our existence can grow fat as a pig.
If such is perfected, We shall pursue conducive habits like sheep.
I meant, Live long and Prosper.
Aug 2017 · 300
Scrabble
Unrealistic imagination is the notion of believing we lead by Leaders.
Sexist lamination is the economical struggle we voted for.
The ones leading Texts imprinted.
The last time I forgot how to dream Imaginations got arrested.
A suit of the selfish gratitude.
A Brief Touch of the Variable Earth.
A Sudden threat to death.
Directly a touch and kiss for affection.
The ****** and buried are hounding reminders.
Where can you go when the winner is a destructor?
Sobered in the wall exactly when I remember,
The moments I've seen Are Confusing gender.
Reality is deceived by deceit and conquered by the brainy brains.
How these life mirrors reflect is solely based on the act of who lived before I did.
The True Vector.
I'm a gift to my self.
A Glass to my efforts.
I break easily out of focus.
I’m A blur surface.
Just A sample of a naive creation.
An Illusion of trust doesn't deprive evaluation.
They small,
But worth being recorded on an exhausted wall.
Why?
Because the Demonstration is a dead verse.
I don't feel like rhyming,
I will lose the essence of runny energies.
Critics are a cut laser.
The best time to rush faith being held to travel back in scriptures,
sorting obvious elements.
The trick is in the creativity.
Everything I do leaves a mark,
I'd rather mark the approach and invest in my potential.
Shameful victories lost a chance to remain,
In everything the best is the main.
Boldness to the public discussion is excitement,
As always, Great value reflects great taste.
Be a matter to the dancer, Since
Problems are playing sounds of sad wisdom.
A runner bug dug deeply in the routines.
Great Task is fixed if found.
A search begins as an error to your persona.
A name you lift.
A push depends on the boundaries of attention,
Who Set up the scripts ?
Isn't the circle Merciful when the presence
of the absence mothers compatibility?
Does The routine of existence exists in the routines?
How do you know the best route is the one you took?
I do hope!
When hope hugs embarrassment
I’d be a date to the Procedures.
For the same reason a Normal life compiles loss
A remote locating Emotionless directions
Allow me to run silently
Because There exist nothing to alter
The adroit medication the doctor refused to accredit
It would heal a lot of witless moments
Blonde is the color ignorant
As I said
It's a meaningless scrabble
You listening but you see confusion
That's The live end of an entry.
Dreams committed suicide.
Skirts worn on a low aside.
I could write you a song but I'm afraid it sounds like others.
The reflection of a glare that leaves the dark side of life.
For you were told that's the bad side of life.


Whatever you think about
speak about
you create about.
That's your power.
What is it this power.
That I cannot define but simultaneously express and simplify using reduction
setting aside marking the difference with a countless vision and division between a rope tied binding our minds.


They say you a *****.
I'm in love with you.
You a keeper.
A soul that seeks equilibrium with love and self
Isn't that a parallel play ?
A fine wrath with a critical eye
My job is to give you what you want.


My jaw always think about change.
Isn't that a deep failure of human complexity.
Our knowledge is inversely proportional to the truth.
Earth.
Life.
Are you a brain teaser?
You vain.
You raucous.
The system is upon us.
Imaginary is trying to rationalise stupid phrases.
What if you just a phrase.
Is your name insane or sane.
That was rhetorical.
You renounce my emancipation.


History told me who you are.
It told me you a perplexed dogma.
A rapid rotation in a circular form.
You take half the turn, You don't maximise your circumference, double your radius and square your diameter.
Clarity.
Enlarge your area.
You Ying in the Yang.


Your humor is designed to accommodate those who seek knowledge first.
Such a disturbing environment.
Death examines the cost of the land.
Awkward mournings are only recorded in our minds.
I don't need a piece of paper to trust you.
I don't deserve a ride.
I know how and when to trust.


I'd be skeptical.
How many times have you killed and left wounds lazy to heal.
See, with my abilities in life, I'm satisfied because I can't return them.
Unless I alter them.
Life is an act of offering services and products in exchange of capital charge per item.
My life charged me 5 adroit items:
• Independence.
• Brilliance.
• Maturity.
• Progress.
• Cash.
(IBM-PC)
In the end...
You just a set of events.
I define you.
You just a set of words.
Only self defined and irrationally undefined.
I believe in dreams, I never recall them.
I'm Golden, logic is what I'm holding.
Thoughts and belief does come true.
Without proposals they go unmarried.
Love never tricks anyone into royalty.
When heart is pure, judgements has loyalty.
Fate controls money and severity.


My heart is three sided, halved is right angled.
The Angle is golden
The view has rotten.
People you meet. journeys you take.
The soldier
The teacher.
Straight line is a functional seeker.
That's a pointless *****.
Twice the rooted power.


A flawless masterpiece is common in description.
Time ponders the description in ambition.
That's logic.
I'm tired.
My mind took a jog
They say it's a marathon not a Sprint, that's love.
Who chose the pace.
The cup is bottomless
It fill absence.
I had a sip of that knowledge.
It took the pressure off.


The mass of my love is gravitational.
Their product weighs more than expected.
There's no work done.
I don't **** up
I **** down.
That's a silent trigger.
The future shoots the blanks.
It holds no offspring.
An intertwined distraction.
A soul full of observation.
Are they engagements.
Do they break the law.


The one is digital.
The formula is logical.
The system is sequential.
Can you hear that.
We all have two digital ears.
Eyes pixels at a maximum.
The zoom conforms nature.
They capture, they record.
They all can be taught.
I know my way around the looks, they never bought my value.
That's Illegal piracy, no such a thing as a fraud.


They just binary palindromes.
What value do they possess.
It's spontaneous, the character.
The algorithm.
The errors.
The code refuses to compile, I'm not a quitter.
I run.


Everyone negotiates when beauty is graphical.
Complements to the designer.
The greater power.
I always lie and I'd say I'm in love with HER.
That follows a paradox.
That's a screen play.
I touch, I'm gifted.
With changes we lifted.
Can there be the one.
That's a model sized case.
Smaller fractions are a chase.
The base, The Pace.
The changes are continuous.
They say let the good times roll and a rolling Stone gathers no Morse.
I believe love is a mental concept to stall human progress.
There's a lot claimed.
That changes with change in time.
Aug 2017 · 195
Broken walls
I have a story in my mind
The broken walls
They two sided They stand side ways
Greave in the shadow for days
A chapter erased teared is the verse we heard
From zero to one
From the beginning to the continuation
For the will to seal determination
Loose ends seeks attention of
A broken siren
A set off


A rough climb virginity it broke
The last time a fall was a mock
A walk wasn't the talk
Boundaries reshaped
Heights reformed
The standard is high it needs restored
A sigh of disappointment
That's a far cry
A soldier lost the army
Shooting blanks with a
Broken pistol
A bang off


Is standing a better option
A knock on the floor is owning
Circular rhythm
It's not deep
It's sharp
Gave up on hope yet hoped not to give up
Yawning is stretching it feels home
The walls looks distant the grip is gone
How to knit and grind
The walk of shame is blind
Pains paints mourning of sound
That's round
That's loud
These walls drives rotation
heard a summon of a
Broken siren
A set off


A day worse time is the same
The remainder remains in the game
What's right wasn't the main
What's left is blood of the injector
Holding hope realising surrender
Human gender possesses agenda
Behind A smile of a
Broken accent
A sad love


A call of duty logic is the reason
A set on surely is a mission
Hugged by notion
]Blinded by passion
Faith is an assassin
In hunt for action
Thunders are landing
The script is fading
The radius is raising
A few who stands up
Amending the loudness of the sound of a
Broken siren.
A set off


Deep instruments it feels
A few walks it needs
From a wall to another
From the first to another
Slow steps of a driver
A siren destroys
Like a scratchy record
Complement is an effort
Optical is optional
The centre is original
Initial Destination of a
Broken Siren
A set on.
.

A year old storage written optimal
Expressed gratitude reflect optical
Formal extensions remained original
Developed to produce the instrumental
A record tender date functionality
Insanity holes to cleanse reality
Envious entries are a good ally
knocked actions were a rally


Handbill desire a drag is a release
Deep in my forest the pulse at ease
The centre complimented the list of big deals
You squeeze it breaks the cover ream
You flip the odds outcome you lean
A battle portrays a chance we deem
Behind names covered with uncaptured scenes


Thought birth life time is a read
It happened to be 10 minute clip
Flat and round a compulsive skip
Then it went pause, a mute visit
Pulled is the face dual denials
A manly ignorance the tune with arrivals
Good gestures initiates an approach to gold
A verified platinum boxed thinking is sold
Barcode erased its value is old
Pricetags hanging the cost is bold


Sincere request tuning crowd pullers
Fans remained stationery movers
A scratch is a deep cut laser
Petty formulas binary is a dancer
A skip stops I need a CD changer
Perfect pitch opportunities are a major
Locating is loading an unloading radar
It never alerts an approach to danger
Circle the intro the rest for later


The centre of death initiates middle first
The last line concludes the middle third
180° middle separated
A mourn and a sin liberated
Comparison fathered demos emancipated
Bow down to the theory of the pirated
Clay cemented mistaken for friendship
Heavy a rotation is a power gift


I heard a smell of a burning Tar
An owl clapping from a distance afar
The voice of slavery grants an alter
Events less compatible to time yet late was an arrival
Condolences to efforts
The event was a puking method.
Empty shadows lifts functions
The smell made me float
Exhaling the memory
Matters of the adventure
Until I remembered, I'm an Old Soul.
Aug 2017 · 234
Time Travel
Time Travel.
My friend gave me a bonus question.
When was the last time
I did something for the first time that I never did before.
My mind travelled and defined its gender.
I begin asking myself.
When was the last time I dig tragic I can handle.
When was the last time I focused on the sound of my voice and listened to the journey of transformed tones in a series of intensive teachable attitudes.
Cracked memories shallow presence and ticks clockwise.
When was the last time I understood what rituals are.
What set of events is Culture.
What makes Paradoxical Religion conquer brains.
How inevitable is Tradition.


When was the last Time I employed mechanism that heals and shares experiences.
When was the last time I asked the meaning of last time is it really the idea of last time having a meaning of time travel.
Does time last.
When was the last time I spit hope and hold onto lies because reality is an illusion to our attention.
When was the last time clock coordinated along with space since everything is given as a hint.
When was the last time you begin initiating start up points since life moves as a set of transforming events.


When was the last time you begin mentally challenging
your Sight to abilities
Your right to wisdom
Your ticket to knowledge
Your perseverance to success
Your Introspection to vision
Your mind for Matter.


When was the last time you created something to nurture lesser to nature because everything co exist and it's intertwined.
When was the last time you had intelligence as a friend since ignorance is a useless companion.
When was the last time you picked up a book for information since education is a restricted system.
When was the last time you designed a system to ponder thoughts and monitor behaviour since stupidity takes undisclosed locations.
When was the last time you stand for what you believe in because those who takes higher grounds their stands are low.


When was the last time we created a victorious moment to split the difference between the domains of our minds.
When was the last time we understood the creation of the universe and how mutually exclusive does the location exist and build palindromes within our area.
When was the last time we stood in timeless barriers creating unity worthy of names.
When was the last time we both declared political ideology as a waste of time.


When was the last time we asked ourselves.
Who are we.
What is the Poetry of our architecture.
When was the last time we asked ourselves when is the next time we stop asking when last but how long would all these useless questions come to an end.
When was the last time we pass Useless inquisition since they parallel a perfect system to estimate time but it's never accurate.
The last time we asked when was the last time is exactly last time ago.
Aug 2017 · 133
To all unborn heroines
It’s very easy to stay in a thought, It’s An inspiration for your vision
The hard part begins when you have to decide to let your brain knot
We all looped to regimes we claim to be ours
We keep fighting until we lose ourselves again.
While we deprive human kind to exist,
Winnig losing battles
To all unborn heroines, You cannot see day or night,
you all managed to skip a loop that precluded your death on earth
Do me a favor now:
Breathe not, hid existence, cease forwardness silently
Sleep the long sleep, The world in which you awaken
will be the one incapable of sustaining human life
it would be ridiculous to let you feel the scent of disappointment
Yet, time turns our moaningtunes to fear.
Remember that dear.


Rejoice, how the people of earth manipulate and kills
when greetings die, laughter fails, getting hope out of their system
what we think is all you’d have to live by, numb enthusiasm
it would have been someone else’s philosophy
a template of quotes, irrelevant notes and
on that note, it’s hard to recover from the demons controlling us
faith waste away, final approval of all questions you would have had



Have I saw the death of wombed souls in pretty faces
facing the very same thought that would have to be perceived a mistake
while it takes another innocent soul’s soul.
Before another chart of infections unzip all ends
and it would be an end, for your existence
unfed ******, yet we haven’t made any better
to cease, or be, I would have told all my tales.
The cause of your death could have been an unfortunate mistake
the despicable scenarios that destroys the very existence of a woman
in every soul who cries when bitter and loves when affection rules over
overwhelming frustration of **** memories.


never lay a blame, vow now, because I hid every hidden hint
let the beauty of birth be the master of the universe.
If not, such as your case, groomed unborn ******
Locked sense no one cares to trade with would have been a color crime
This life’s pending plan is yet to be explained.
I hope my group of words are bright enough to be easily heard
Never be sad, fain interest because surely in silence, there is wisdom
stumbling in the right direction, there is one tear and a single cause.
No man can change the routine,
it’s money, affection and we all subjects.
Yet if you can dream there.
O poor unformed yet human
Dream fatal, bazar fantasies.
Bestow them upon your murderers,
The health system, Who sends a reminder that
money is in medication not on cures
And nature is set to be the cause.
Of course, no matter how many poor souls turned into obstacles
Observation prevents loss, You lost a chance to
Let the error of your Mind dwell in salvation.
Listen to Reason, Love is just a mental concept.


We all loathe love.
It’s a belief thus we act selfishly and declare paperless legally binding routines that misunderstands every detail Between order and chaos, then we in love.
right ?
Is that love ?
What is the truth in everything we do ?
What if all we have is just a bunch of rules and a group of words, but I still need to know What is it about love that we despise so much ?
Love is like Vector, my imaginary *****-ed straight line segment whose length is magnitude and whose orientation in space is direction. I acknowledge its existence.


Wouldn’t the world be better without rules or love without prescribed guide for action ?
because we afraid to tell the truth.
Such as how we feel.
What we want in every situation we attach ourselves to.
We then Build a system we travel to just to listen to ourselves complaining, losing family values because people need to buy or sell apologies through how love is portrayed.
We recognise economic slavery.
A scrap of evidence in every argument or fight clings on is like a sky that rains with no confidence!
Until we resign on earth, or when the error of our ways leads us to a coma, then the full stop.
Why do we fight so much to shield from reality of who we are, or fighting who we are under false appearances.
Given history we judge then we blame,
during days that whispers rain.


I had smiles and deeper love from my ants and being ignored by my rabbit, that’s pure love.
It makes you different and realise all hate and evil is just a symbol, like colour Red, the heart shaped affections mistaken for love and we fight easily to be in control, so we can avoid everything.
A sound louder as the silence of all the untold judgements and hidden chuckles, coping with comfort Because the difference is the sum of all divided products that equals great depression.
The energy of personal management cut out and the defection is just beneath our minds
Where things bigger than we are, are the ones in control, depriving ourselves of freedom
No more death or crying, how come everything beautifully started ends with abomination ?


Brutal moments, like when someone asks if you have a moment or would you like to buy a valentine card or a compilation of western good times.
Our knowledge does not relate and the confusion seems Exactly like That deep feeling of losing a lover and love, our heart just pumps more blood. How do we loose what does not exist ?
While our minds are just paralysed and right answers analysed yet they turn out to be wrong.
Covering all the tracks, sometimes we the tracks.
Case in point, like the journey we take, sometimes we the journey of our relationships
That will never stop reality from migrating to a less factual state, The final destination.
Love can elude us but we’ll never know what we know when hidden in simple sight.
A dash in our focus is a dent in our hope
Until death do us apart, who’s death would it be ?
Mr Dreams and his fiancé, Miss Hope.
Can our concept of methods recover from that overwhelming of fear and anxiety ?
Borrow me your consciousness, I do wish it would listen to my cousin.
Reason!
When the constant hatred does no longer settle, it has its own area. Ask yourself, is it worth it ?


Exclusive companies created to manage control through paid messages, "Who wants to marry a Millionaire" or "Desperate house wives" and all we have left behind are victims Addicted behind every romantic trip and candles with special treatments, soothing music and a land full of celebrities. Analogies!
Maybe we all stumbling from the right assumptions to the wrong questions yet we end up with the right answers.
Just like female human, we really never want the answers do we ?


A terminal of complaints is all we need, we hate every soul we ever loved.
We compile and with error, we codes that runs.
Running from reality due to years of loath to opposite ***
My question still stands. Was it ever love ?
Isn't love is a misconception from affection ?
When we find what’s good,
we always look for a better one.
Who is a variable ?

— The End —