It still takes me awhilst to Sense your Name
With such Plus-Speeches curry to a Song
Yet ask if I - stopper the Current - same,
I wonder how many Words will last for long
Or Syllables, in your own Hands depend
With Numbered Cycles ask Keys for those Locks
Perhaps we Run - and Combination amend
Or affix those Cargoes left at the Docks
Demand it so, or leave a Martyr's Plaque
Which at Risk shed the Janner's Blood portend
Else dull the Banker; Then add his Funds lack
To decode his Wealth so long been Content.
Merry-be-Jolly, which Virtue discerns
The Olive still Grows; The Student still Learns.

Hello, Funkey Monkey! Your Orange Arms hang
And Bless those Pea-Eyes your Master do Witness
What Pursed Lips you saw; Or Mellow-Hands rang
For his Sick Clients or Friends with Kisses
My Business, it's not! Though comfy your Place
To chronicle such Pampered Events enjoy
Whispering his name; Beg caress to his face
And Sweet-Marks smear Spices plug to this Boy
Gambled are you to which many Girls sing
On his Rehearsals too fawned for him to Post
We can only guess what Stipend he'll bring
Or the next Meme he'll Admire the most.
Cheers, Oscar Bear. And bring your New Friend
To brief his Rumours; Whose Mood you'll depend.

It seems that each time I climb my own Pulpit
Hoping with my Values you could soon know
These Arrows stab me; Some ***** my habit
Whilst others painfully stub my Big Toe
I suppose, that even if I Intercede
Which by the way un-crossed from my Contract
Would such Fence stand still; Yet I supercede
Beyond my Instructions I would extract
Apart from your Blood. Yet such Energy bleed
Checking my Virtues to your Good Effect
If at least Fail my own Ripe Moral's need
Must then tune your Future to your best Aspect.
Though Foreign am I, my Message give Hope
Could your Heart brush Wax; And your Mind feign Dope.

Poets, as per Priests, by Charity thrive
Yet rake the Best Features for their intent
Divers, as per Dames, by Fashion's revive
Draw the Choicest Models for their content
You see? How common their Modes do vary
Which fulfill my Teacher's Will to Connect
Where - make abode - Purple's Pimpled Folly
And slip each other's Secrets in retrospect
There is an Answer; Which one Theory hides
But through the same Dame's kiss endorse a Hint
First - pump her softly - careful! She subsides
And leave your Buds more than a Taste of Mint.
So, a Poet are you; Your Flesh the Words
A Diver am I; My *** for the Birds.

To move in Reflex, as Earth and Air kiss
Sport Water to fare that Steel Jungle cool
And stunningly Ritual; One I dare miss
Bid the Twinkle-Toes and harped like a Fool
Fools. So saturated yet most reserved
That a Semaphore my Loose Restraints such
To feature my Craft; Though Elements conserved
And leave you Two free to hone your fine lot
Figures. That Speech slumber by your instinct
Yet left me asking which Equation true
Amongst your limbs - flip Angles by distinct
Then shaped the Art and Miracle as you.
Quite expected, though not in such Degree
With her in-waiting, as I chop a Tree.

When you think that you have remained at Peace,
Here comes the War Cause.
Due to his Impedious Actions and Words
Has caused an Impenetrable Rising -
An ******* unworthy to be erected,
Which ought to be torn apart piece-by-piece.


It is the TINGE - that Nerve which makes
You do just that.
It is he, that made you Scream like a Cat -
Angered by the Mouse
To which transfers the same Range at his
Own Spouse.
It is he, that makes Hypocrisy victorious
And free.
It is he, that projects Visions and Sights
You could hardly see.


Because you could not see it all
For it still rests within your Heart.
No-one loves the Heat of Hatred
Or the Sourey Taste of Anger.
Worse, his or her Voice
Expressing uncontrollable Temper.
(Or Things either with big or little Difference.)


Yet still, it is the Reason. And that Tinge
Proves it so.
And as a Result the Latter begins to Dream.....
Deteriorate and worst let you feel low;
Deeper than Beelzebub's main Majestic;
Deeper than the Marianas itself.


The Tinge of Heart - so Strong to Hinder
And so Weak to be Awared.
Responses, Sympathy are the only Cures
Of these Tinges. And now its Reputation
Has been Saved from the Infamous Hinges.


Now that Tinges can have a Good Side -
Does Temper have.....?

Life and Love.
Defense and Attack.
Boys wear Pants whilst Girls wear Slacks.
Students study, as they do, so they say
By the their own Proud Youth - yet reek with Respect
And Worthiness to other People and the Like.


These are the Roles - Tasks and Obligations
Which every Individual does in order to strike
The Goal intented.


As the World rivets by,
And Beggars moan for Alms,
Every person has some Role day-by-day;
Singing Psalms,
Thanking God for the Gifts gratefully given.


But as I say, as we are aware
That each of us has Roles different from
The others.
Specific, as what we call them makes
Us Special in some way.


We gain Originality - Uniqueness - the Factor
Of one Good Kindness
But is not the Perfect Role - no more, no less.


And so we Search, by-and-by
Even with the Onions we consume which
Makes us Cry.
Soon, we began to love Victory and notice
A certain Title which makes a Sick Story:
"THE PEOPLE THEMSELVES; BEST BY WAY."
And began to scan the Multitude,
Wondering what they could mean.


The People, everywhere floating around us like
Fish,
Being noticed that Something in themselves
Create a Tinge of Belief.
BELIEF! That's it! Belief in one's self -
The most Perfect Role of all!


With it, we Feed our World with such Classical Rhythms
That sheds a little Light for this World of ours
To be kept and treasured forevermore.


If everyone has Originality, they are more
Respected, when it comes to a Serious Society.
Furthermore, one makes use of his Gifts
Given by the Lord. And it is our Duty to Follow it.


And we will - for we Believe that to follow the Perfect Role
Leads to a Perfect Life.


At least, such is what I Think.
Of course, I could be Wrong.