Sometimes, wings appear

Barring teeth cutting gum

the blind closes

Night visions, illuminated eyes

A horn next

Crossing the line

Many times I feel

like hell and heaven

kicked me out and

closed both doors


Divine feeling

words on lips

when we kiss

The devil I mean

Her eyes locked on mine

Sky pact, when we bleed

Gives us the space to tangle

Stronger connection

Knock me off!

knock me down

I’ll hold on

While we rise

Same high same sight

when our Eyes do meet


A closed channel

No one dials in

Except me

And I like it that way

I stay and revel

In the ease of evil

drops of rain when I laugh

dark moments, I swim

gray clouds, I submerge

The energy, I savor

every drip, please on tongue

Stories of the Drone Children

Beats and bombs lament this world

In depths of pain

encrusted with insignia of war

children born lacking innocence

Believe me,

pain and despair, all for new souls

nothing left but depths of pain

encrusted to this bible called the internet


We, children always born without hope

Just hopeless, believe me

Like worms in belly

unknown to me

This war you bring tears me up

gun shells leaving my wells dry

Gradually, slowly

until starvation and famine

finally eats me up

Another child of the drone

lost to the silence of a dying world.

Further With Your Passion

Go with it a little further
Further past the bricks of schools
With it, grab that hunger
With it, grab the bad time
Combined, they come
Those damned nightmares
Full force, they haunt your mind
But that’s the life of a visual mind
The life of a soul designed to capture modern times
The life of a soul destined to paint
Forging pleasant ways for the future times

So, go with it a little further
That fire burning through your soul
That hunger that forces your words to bleed out pain
That gift that keeps you warm during the cold
With it, excel further past the naysayers
With it, fill your cup and live up your dreams

You’re almost there,
Almost there

dream on, dream well

My hands are red
With wine, and some squashed juice
My field is looped in depth
The world; round and square
Twisting and forming vibes
Reeling around, cube-like
The hurt from smoke
Found and lost, inhaling the taste
Then another puff
The world; fiery and spicy
Always giving back what I had sowed

Is there a heaven? I asked
For my peace is my heaven within
My end from the shouts of life

Is there a place called hell? I asked
For the earth is full of blood
Thinking back, the start of life
Brought me here, to the sand on ground

My destiny began as I held onto life
My cries confirmed the tales I had been told
So the stethoscope man spanked
Correcting me, cutting the cords that connected me
To a time when eyes were closed
And souls roamed sky, deep beyond the clouds

Is there an earth? I asked
Where living is full of peace
Far into green, away from greed
Am I there yet?
There where I can be free

For I am a soul
Born of sin, freed from chains
But why does the bondage of blood
Swell in the eyes I see?

So I reply, I say to myself
Dream on, dream well
For the life before now is at hand
Near to touch, un-afraid to grasp
A place where confusion is only a lost word

We are but spirits
Destined to cut loose from body
Back to a stagnant time
Where running is never desperate
To a place where the kingdom of tranquility awaits.

you’ll never find another until you find yourself – common

Simple World: Morning Edition


The air itself was music. It was not self-imposing like the train noise echoing from a distant place neither was it chipping away morning lullabies like the birds on the poles and trees. It was amidst all, and everything around it was consumed by its unapparent presence. Without most knowing, life was giving away its most prized rhythms for free. And all who thought they could hear sounds of bytes were voided in the gift of hearing.

During a dreadful storm one does care about the shouts or cries of the sea, all that matters is coming out at the brighter side of the tale. Heroic, yet a good sailor not great (because there are no great) will listen to the ascending roars of the waves and with deep insight into the ways of the water, he or she will pass through with ease. Now we all have different paths, but regardless of the set road we have a singular end point; same destination. Some require rugged tricks to pull out from the beast of the sea. But no matter your gift, wise or unwise, understanding the waves of life will help you in finding that road you desperately need to embark on, and when or if you listen, maybe your path will call out your name; Loud and strong.

For the sins of man has been fully paid.
Nothing can stop the token your thighs received when you first echoed your cries.
Rebelling against even mata, a fist of odd thoughts.
Knocking on the door of joy, craving for the taste of sea.
Morning come, money go

Simple World

The water rose till the glass that held it in broke into smaller pieces. The current had exploded and those caught in the waves were left to curse their luck. The lucky ones stared hard, and without any reason they let loose of vile words and curses. They threw their offense at the wounded ones without an offer to help. “Why should we?” Some of them questioned. “These filthy souls asked for the dirt.”

So the pain again receives no answers. The turmoil most mirrors suffer; always receiving accusing stares from the unassuming onlooker. Out of body, without hesitation the particle of mind will find its source. Believe it or not, the same goes for those who wish to drink from the fountain others reject.

No money to ask for a date. The broke man will use the words of strength or the strength in words to reach the heart of the red star. Never question the moth who buzzes close to the flame without papers. The sign says out but the arrow puts inwards. Laziness might be a disease but hard-work is hardly infectious.

The walk of confidence shows discipline and the slash of an angry man shouts victorious. Remember, the soul will cry but the body will remain for a week or so. The demands of the hardly-working man causes the less-able to always stay in comfortability. No wrong, as long as your own way works.

The embrace from the screams of the never visited place called Venetian. The lung dries up from always saying what the bucket can handle. There! Nothing is left for this part, so onto another.

Coincidentally, the day came with full force; blazing bright. The flight to the top of the happy rhymes was rejected by those who feared the stars. The light all hope to find is in the darkness that most fear to live in. No one fears the cloud-dust up high, but we all fear the shadow, whose only desire is to reveal the unknown.

Though my dream ends here, I still have nightmares bright in the day. The advice is to go to that place where rejection came in abundance. Unlike what they say, the lessons in life is abundant and very unapparent. In darkness, we must first find that tunnel and then maybe later the light. And to think, life was so simple back then when peaches were extremely delicious.

My dreams though.

A New Element

The end is here

Redemption peeps

Nights of wasted right

The artist with a dream

After all the sins have been laid

The world becomes you

The ability to forgive

Rock bottom in direction

In Night, or out of prison

Forth cometh that soul you dreamt of

Never fear

The heart of gold has melted


Kaleidoscopic Dreams

If you may, allow me to let you in on a little secret. Where may I begin? Right here, I guess. You see, I have these several, several dreams, many of which I almost never seem to wake up from. In between these episodes, I reach far deep into where I want to be in life. And, every time I try to wake up into my dream, the path becomes nothing more than a scene of an empty room stinking with the smell of vintage books. Sometimes, I try to trick the Queen in my dreams, but her knowledge knows no bound. She told me to break, to break, I must amend, and to amend, I must seek the red bird.

So I tell her “Where do I find this bird?”

“In freedom,” she said, “A place lacking mannered discontent.”

So back there, I went.

Back here, there is nothing, but the empty smiles I receive; faces loosely cringed and plastered together with false hope. Yet again, I am filled with great disappointment.

“These faces have no answers!” I shout.

Faces after faces, I tear away and amend the missing scraps, hoping to find that one bird. The days go brighter and longer; refusing to give into the darker times.

Like a perfect time, I fall right into the sands of time. With rain falling, and the moon shining, I found her. The red bird looking down on me welcomed me with a tune. To my utter astonishment the red bird cried these words to me.

“You fool! All you needed was to fall. All along, I waited by the Iroko tree, night after night.”

After all had been resolved, I and the red bird fly back there without much haste. In my state of equanimity, I quietly hoped I had found my cure because, I badly wanted rid myself of melancholy.

So back there, we went.

Back there, where leeway was abundant, and the bird played her tune with much ease.

A Journey to the End


Brought forth from a dream

A million born

To reality

Where the pocket of the greed ever so swells

Looking for redemption

Not bags of gold

Rewarded with set standards

Peace taken

Green lashed at their faces

For long, too soon

A misnamed tale of romance

Queue up

Till time brings back that first line

Live on, live well