People talk, more than I.
I am ashamed of my past,
And confused about my life.
Where the history, of many lineages
Is well-described:
I am unaccustomed with mine.
What I know, of right & of wrong,
Is it predicated on the rule of the weak
By that of the strong?
The gaze thus glares from my eyes,
Does it live in black & in white?
Does bruised fruit still grow ripe?

Peace & love
And safety, security.


The art of war,
Is the portrait of justice-
The picture of peace.
The liberty to live free,
As we choose and want to be:
But the duty to defend what we believe.

Stuck in my mind,
on top of my head,
Even when the love is dead,
it still haunts me that you're gone.

The spray painted kisses,
are tattoos on my skin.
I have your smile by memory,
still tasting you in my dreams.

Praising your body,
as my tongue's favourite song.

Under the shade cool of love,
kissing under a tree,
away from the sun.
All that's left is that purple flower.

It's searching for water,
so thirsty and dry.
Bending it's will to the light,
hoping not to die.

A lonely, pretty, purple flower.

I see a brother in every man,
But some men's egos need to be pet,
If sir suits him.
But what is there
More greater a term of endearment,
Besides father,
Than that which I utter
And wholeheartedly, in earnest, offer?

Love given, but not taken, is not love un-received;
You have love to give,
That is something.
Whether their heart is open
To the souls' hymns
Your words sing,
The song is never wasted-
But goes through changes,
As the renewal of spring.

Don't stop walking, the path will appear before you;
Love will remedy all your pain if you keep your heart open.
It's not about what we think or feel, it's what we know.
So, surround yourself with good folks
Surrender, and just go with the flow

Each emination,
Hot as an inferno.
The breath I let escape
Burns before it boils,
Serpent, tongue coil.
The way you worked me;
Nailed the coffin, spread the soil.