(Sonnet)

Our tryst was sore, more like pain or penance,
What kerfuffles in our unspoken for eyes
And love grew low, by unanswered questions.
How could we laugh, live in such indifference,

Long, unmerciful time, grinding us down
With not even limitless skies for leaven?
Each day was comic-tragedy, no Eden,
Lives flooded about, simple pleasures drowned.

Yet, each day we dreamed with harnessed wings
Bound together in the throngs, restless journey,
A promise was made on some green gentle isle
And we made our golden shifts such shining things,

Running to rays, future dawns never to come,
Shining things falling mute in dry rots of sun.
.

People often
Asked me
Where do
I get my confidence

For me it’s simple

Even when it rains
I have my flare up

Too many great people
Gave up their lives
To produce
The man I am
Today

You will never
Catch me
With my head down

You will never
See me
Bow down
To any man
Or beast

You will never
Find me
Giving up fighting
For the life
I ought to have

His light
Lives in me

Basically
What  I’m trying
To say is,
Know that ,
Confidence
Lives  in me

It’s in my
DNA
To
Be
King

I wonder if my bed could talk
What would she tell the world about me ?
Would she be loyal to me
And keep my secrets ?

Would she tell the world
How I always treat her like royalty
Morning , night and day?

Would she breaks her promise to me
And tell the world
How many faces she counted
Throughout the years?

Or
Would she stand up for me
And tell the world to mind
It’s own **** business...

I wonder if my bed could talk
What would she tell the world about me?

Would she tell the world
How I fixed her up so pretty every morning ?

Or
Would she share our secrets
And tell the world
Just
In hours later I have her
Looking like an old rag
And
Smell like *** in a bottle ?

I wonder if my bed could talk
What would she tell the world about me?

Would she whisper my secrets
Softly behind my back to Mr.Jones
About how Mrs. Jones and I
Be dancing the night away ?

Or
Would she be faithful to me
And keep my secrets safe ?

I wonder if my bed could talk
What would she tell the world about me ?

Or
would it be fair to say
Maybe I’m just a paranoid man
Who’s just wondering a little bit too **** much ?
Sometimes I wonder to wonder