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  • Writer's pictureJude

Poetry inclines overtime

Updated: Dec 28, 2023

This is my last post on the House of Horus until we move onto nicer better aesthetic things. But an archive no less. Thank everyone for reading, encouraging and sharing my shit.


I think about when I started this creative endeavour. What was it all for? Angst reverberated in my chest, I slept bothered with no aim to alleviate my pain. Wallowing in dejection, even when I realised a goal or finished a post. It almost seemed as if I was chasing a goal that was running from me, another stride only birthed more pride to weigh me down on this choice. I wanted to articulate that pain in the form of a voice, the inclination to shout like the silence of Grime’s sights of culture and the violence the media chose to focus on. Hence, this is where I am coming from. The eternally bothered, weighed down by society, history and intimidated by what if. It persists to belittle me, though foresight for a path to greatness is on the ropes. Swaying with dope, the monumental shifts of mentality between smokes burn the flame within to keep growing. Which ignites willpower in me, to achieve and subdue the pain that people wired like me have no choice but to entertain.

But I questioned how for the longest if I am not at my strongest how do I deal with your and my own pain? The impression through words, works, the things we do and say, altering the brain to ease and brighten up someone’s day. To add to someone’s being, even as a momentary form of happiness that will fade or a life lesson they can apply to become greater. To detract from the overwhelming sadness that practices darkness too well. I want to make people happier, more understanding, feel represented and feel greater within themselves, so I write and intend to create things to empower them in those ways. When I realised that is what I wanted, I decided some things I write do not have to be extended articles or essays. “Deep” or “intellectual” shit, glorified for the intellectual property but never applied. Sometimes I love writing poetry, I ask for a phrase or a concept and piece together a poem for someone. I now have a catalogue of about 300 poems, my own and for others, I want to share with you guys, but gradually. 

So yeah, here are the poems from 2016-2018. I really wanted to share them, because I don’t think they deserve to be sold in a sense. It’s for the sake of people reading them and the happiness and wonder they can gain. I hope to release another collection at some point next year, and make it a constant theme alongside my writing. If you do enjoy them and want to donate in any way, the details are in the about me page. I hope you enjoy some of these poems,




Wait For It

Imagine life was like an hour glass, and a quarter of your expected life has passed

As you dwell on your path and others grasp at the idea of you living delayed by this game we play

The long wait, a period I’ll forever wait, as for most of that grained time I lined up defeat

Grinding each atom of divine patience, into panic and a tendency to hate, this destructive wait

Hence I hide my face and lay in wait, preying on the same future she has

I creep and I crawl, for it is easy to tread, on polite sermons of the undead

Losing it is a threat, I have kept my sanity, denying a purge of vanity

The cost of patience hosts a calming fragrance blooming one into submission

My visions for life frightens the patient, building destruction somewhere latent

Achievement must be a Flash, like the excitement of youth

So one day I can face and tell Mother the truth

2016, written for and by myself

The Shallow End

Dully I soaked the pressure like a sponge

I succumbed to denial peeling a grudge

Revealing my fears of the grandiose above

I want to scrape the sky like the feeling of love

For that which passes lasts forevermore

By the shores of those who won’t ignore

The spectacular achievements of those before

Imploring action, I’m a fraction of greatness

Ambition is a daring statement

Wondering whether time will wave you on

Craving a renaissance of your pros

Though cons prolong a possible swan-song

You haven’t started, you think, since

You left pink mattering innards of creation

Hoping your wave won’t sink into pools it patents

How special will I be, heeding vagrancy?

Meeting complacency, debating ways I can see

To be free, a thing for itself

Objectively dealing with cards being dealt

2016, for and by myself

Atom’s Ambition

Wanting to play a piano on the moon

The key being instrument to make room

Decorating life like the essence of death

Hearing cries of London streets instead

I bled, burning, brewing more wait

Impatience gave birth to a Demon’s mate

Homed in the skull, honoured by nausea

I drug, drastically dreaming of euphoria

Specs of the blue sky wooed my sight

Edging to calm it might, yet rife by worry

Hurried to defeat the urge, though it occurred

Pins, needles and cautious sweats of a herd

Wanting to be as free as a bird

Impossible, I heard, freedom is only inferred

He is free from the bars which dim Human stars

She is free from the sexist sight and societal scars

Freedom as justice, we remain in the wrong

Hence ruminating over the hollow spiel of a bong

2016, my bredren @isthatscully said he wanted to play a Piano on the Moon one day

The Usual Remorse

I thought it had died, the strong bond which time dries

Solidified with words and selfless acts, truer words have never been spat

From such tired lips which wish to embrace your hips

What good is one kiss to a gist of romance and love?

So I lived in wait, punished by the blood rush

The lust cusped the words I gave and the emotions I laid

The path shines bright, an enumerating light, only because you stood right before

Usually I ignore a heavenly call, during my madness the composure was chipped

Shipped to the furthest shores of the brain, what a joker

Refraining to entertain, a beacon beaming success, reviving the capacity to regret

2016, for me by myself, I hate this one but also like it for some reason

The Underground

A hole in a wholesome of artistic smarts

Dumb in recognition our suspicions hold a pass

Like wandering fires of a hell-bent flame

Heat is not a forgotten feat

Singing a familiar song that rattles the tame

Who is to blame?

Eyes prized on the same

Shadows cast upon a wall to teach them all

So our projections are so small

Irregularities cause a fall

How humane to be fascinated by a mall

Yet to be ready to stall a Human for their form

Stirred and maddened like storms

Born from the nurture of nature

I cannot hate what existence creates

A fate in genetics difference is a merit

With credit donned on the brilliance of their bonds

So why aren’t you so fond of this palette of skin?

A Kin to our cultures and differences within

2016, for me by myself

To Shine Again

I whine and feel red, old as I folded bitterness

My taste is laced with routine, chopped and screwed

In tune to chimes and rhymes accustomed to a customer’s service

A usual junk filled taste, paced to perfection without learning a crucial lesson

That beauty is fruitful as the Earth, continuously giving birth to a World

Everyday can be a new discovery

To align with the shine of the new

Staying true to fool the masterful mundane

No more warrant to rain on life’s parade

2016, for me by myself, I am looking at the transition in words and the concepts I play with. 2016 was super dark for me, it seems


A train delayed by death, without a second though of a Human’s last breath

Heightened as the effects of meth, delaying death is the best way to alleviate stress

So we test time and whine throughout the night, waiting for life to excite, the sensation of living an insomniac’s blight

Stop venting and mas the array of thoughts, you ought to lay lifeless and let the sleep creep she sought

Her mind unravelled revealing the most gruesome thoughts, I wanted her to shoot some more, each idea was a bullet in court

As the silence of night brought self-reflection, a nights worth of self-inspection, allowed your thoughts to linger in my mentions

You broke the law and inspired evolution, a revolution of me only the night can heed with glee.

Dark and heroic, only Gotham knows it

Your benevolence shows it, hindrances left hang out to dry, dyed by the jives of 3 am to 5

2016, for me, a favourite, by myself


Golden silks glide across bare skin

Rugged, the silk bares the frizz of the chin

Grizzly tilts toward the edge of the bed

My roar timid, yet the contrast is red

With a hint of the nights grin

Reeking of sin, I conjure the dead

Memories debate fate, a ruptured date

With my soul punctured my chest sinks

Ghastly sense masked though clearly is read

By those who concede to the greed of empathy

Are you full? I asked, as I sliced another part

A Being in itself, self-centred to the core

I adore the rumination, this deadly celebration

Nevertheless existential glue hosts a gruesome rule

Bed ridden, aspirations hidden by lifelessness

2016, for me, by myself


Homunculus, there’s a man seated within my cranium

He stole my voice, giving me a lack of choice

Whether I birthed such a thing, or it relies on my consciousness whim

The homunculus is kin to everything within

My body a shell, an oyster for a voyage

Continuously zooming via life’s highway

Riding nightfall through high beams seams our vehicle shut

The awkwardness shifts the aux in rotation

Each song was a statement

The Homunculus, I and I

Plotting for and against our mutual demise

Seated behind the bale body, an immoral lens

Which can only be cleansed by the penetrative

A voice, soulfully struck – removing its bane

A riddler may be insane, the anti-hero bust of distrust by the brain

Ping pong or tennis, the opposition longs

For a hurl of the dice, to feast on whatever you might

2016, for me, Fullmetal Alchemist Brotherhood, by myself


Your first sight a rose, no wonder you rose so harmoniously

Peace all you knew, ears muffed through trials and tribulations

Grown through concrete its petals rough, we trust they know of life onto life

Falling as a plucked petal from the rose, nobody chose their branch

Half chance to be born as free as a field, still thrilled by the polluting air

Heir to namesake, a throne, adopted from those that watered the rose

Pink mattering into existence, as calming as the incense

That sheds its essence all over the place, creating a case

Of thought and ease, heeding matters of life we sieve

The happiness and grief, chief to the point of fulfilment

My last sight of the rose, waiting as my emotions fold

Holes in the rose’s petals, and aims, famed as a Queen yet treated a slave

Wishing to pave a way to the grave, as we humbly watch life’s vehicle fade

2016, for me, by myself, the strongest favourite



It rained upon the streaks of my soul that only negritude can sow

Holding an empty pit by a loss of wit, negritude tugged like the string of a bow

Showing a familiar show, with our theatre the roads, venturing into aggressions mighty close

For that streak of soul may flow but it is not open. Mainstay roasting, to toast away with the revolting

Halting the streets thousands weep a familiar song, a particular chant of abasement by where they’re from

The reigns of blackness, by society’s wand, stemming from the weight of a historical bomb.

Imagine the magic of a familiar song, sweeping Worldwide whispering where you belong

Yet no place respects the wait the damage has done, hence a familiar fault of the Humans wrong

2017, for me, randomly at night. But then I got insight as to why I like writing and showing my poetry. People started to want to read and actually enjoyed it so… 

A face paced to perfection of allure

Fixed and clear like a field of flowers

Though in the city pollution is sour

Devouring the vibrance of countless flowers

Roaming through grey waves for hours

Buildings blocking the Suns eternal power

Shining on her face it laced the World

With a beautiful space, a moment to appreciate

Our Earths exquisite taste

2017, for a lady on Twitter, I forgot to put her name next to. You’ll find many pieces have been like that. She gave me a topic I forgot to list, and I did that

The calm wait to touch you is colourful

My rush is trustful that you are what I desire

Like the first Humans and the blaze of fire

Which lit up the blue skies which denied its rise

For the World holds life in place, hence desires demise

I realise you rest away as a living prize

The guise of achievement fries my hopes alive

As I disguise and creep ready to ride

Or die, considering desires untimely signs

2017, a poem on desire, for another person I did not list. Practice what you preach…

You Good Though?

So we are silent unless it’s violent

Ronin, scheming as a migrant

The price of silence as inner finance

Broken silence, so solid yet mine felt

Areas we dealt as harmful to health

The wealth of maintaining respect

The proximity in which pressure is kept

Collecting debts of doubt in a rout

Dispersing pain via veins in our vowels

Shedding blood 4 smokes 2 tokes involved

A community we hold sold on as a brotherhood

A danger that exists in another hood

Lack of empathy, born from motherhood

Not merely shed by a woman’s love

But a tendency of natures flowing glove

The natural move to soothe ones settings

Strength by missing a key blessing

The threading of the hearts worried spectrum

Brother, let your pain be a lesson

For words can be blade sharp, caressing

From what end are we electing

The deeds of wrecking and protecting

2017, for the mandem, for brothers and the self-destruction we are in tune with

My Sunshine

You elevate me by your presence

Thaw in awe I shed my cool

Drooling in wait to choose the wise

Rabid your touch feels a vets prise

I realise you mimic the sunshine

Rays gleaming keeping one alive

Planting seeds in the self to thrive

No wager but friendship the bribe

Many rise from lonelinesses cries

Yet cannot deny a warm hands prize

Gifted countless times I fear the demise

Flowers are weary not showing such times

Your photosynthesising guise

Shedding life’s energy in disguise

Hence I must exist forever while

To detail this Godly guile

Of friendships lasting mile

2017, for a friend and the situationship you pretend, is totally fine

Things aren’t the same, I’m not forcing it again

It dawned upon me, infiltrating the mind

Dwindling fame, no longer concrete in the brain

Yawned with disdain, considering more time

Conversations like rain, dropping to reign

Kingdoms came, in dream form yet sane

Building weathering storms, in the form of pain

Slain by a game, repetitive wrongs to blame

Cain, I’m able to whip myself to shame

Watering plains, seeds fiend for your love

Dead without your shine, dull and lame

Your petals I picked, with a selfless glove

Ignoring your flight, a beautiful dove

Released from my cage, to soar above

2017, clearly I was in some type of pain I don’t know what the fuck or who… I am even vexed right now


My feet waver as my mind chases matter

Like a black hole my black heart is large

It teases my mind to a point it can shatter

Like a black hole it ceases effort to charge

Energised by chance of being on my feet

Mattering to matter everything is deep

Yet shallow as I waddle to my knees

Mattering to a fatter audience of me

Friends or enemies a moment the Sun sees

It sheaths the past as a day would advance

Without no pay Society intentionally throws

Meaning beaming to take life’s chance

Bountiful squares staring down on me

Buses roaming streets that were once Roman

Knowing I’m here though ready to flee

Lying on an opportunity like a hopeful Trojan

Frozen by ambient sounds I am proud

Living in the now with the moon as a foul

Chosen to be a million degrees it shrouds

The Sun shines as I ruminate like an owl

2017, for me, written by myself


Hundreds in silence

Accompanied by never ending thoughts

A court of a thousand minds judging you

Bother you they won’t unless free

Able to heed the good for three

Unsettling the waves of assured work

Giving birth to what if against earn

Work indeed to turn a pension into a lead

To stare back on times passed with greed

Acknowledging the new as hard to read

Another Sky scrapes with pollution in steed

Seemed shut but another policy

Environment weaved with no apology

Deemed another mockery of Human need

Foxes lurk scavenging for weeds

Grown on top of this concrete theme

Grey the scheme of a million beings

Coloured to the palette of London means

2017, for me, by myself


Another day fades into a stream

Coherently leaning into the past

Fasting religiously like sin was cast

Upon the idle state that insidiously laughs

It starts at recognition blaming your graft

The effort it took to become so smart

Stupidity asks if it’s worth the task

At last doubting the inner harp

Chiming to the beat of today’s farce

In jest willingly daft to the bars of reality

That keep one dumbfounded by class

Present and working toward the middle

To ask the electrifying parts of the heart

Whether living by patience is sharp

Or errors of a capitalised Humane path

2017, suggested by a follower on patience

A Very British Office

Coffee marks the scent

It rents the office

Grains of time microscopic

As the clock ticks to bend

Bored keys punched to amend

Data pretends to yield

In a field of letters

Utilising time better

Setup so stiff

It dips ones mood

Unless great interest

It injects to brood

Until it’s time for food

Reverting to being alone and crude

Excluding the duty of work

The mind racing to the curb

Imagining a greater adventure

2017, suggested by my angst at work, followers concept A Very British Office

Glaring at the moon with a trust in stardust

Allocated by a fantastical and wonderful big bang

It sang through nothingness hymning a network

Of sound, material and existential worth

Giving birth to a constant teleological girth

Each atom spawning fresh as a collection of nothing

Though Human eyes deny vastness with something

Hence the luna chance of a diety

As if the stars are as watchful as irony

And we are meant to be as the will to live is fiery

Within the nurtured Human heart a daft place for smarts

When placed on the chart of stardust

2017, a poem on Stardust

The script of fate may always win the race

If placed untimely in a moments grace

Like dominos steadily falling into place

Slicing minds into elation when studying its case

Or unease wades like murky waters of waste

Confusion like a psychic or dejavu displaced

Hence we pick when we smile and remember

Casting frustrations to the memories of vile

Rarely underlining the importance now

The temptation of fate can truly feel foul

A deadly reflection of our similar vowels

Spelling a chance meeting forever and now

2017, a poem on the concept of Fate

My love is built like a protective glove

As if I am building on something I can rub

It’s delicate, caressing I reckon it subs

Harshness of me for the beauty I can see

In countless dreams counting pleasantries

A heart so big it could coddle seventy

Individual needs of greed could never be

Contrasting one love to dishevel me

Beautiful subjects applied and on course

To teach each other an insightful morse

A code projected to teach its court

To understand the variety of relations thoughts

Though not without jealousy hate and impression

Reality as interaction is more of an election

Who is the most favoured by dressing

Fitting the policies of my glove

The only one my urge longs to touch

2017, a poem on the concept of unreciprocated love


The course exacted onto living

Shillings billing to a grind

The unsigned constitution of same

Friends solidifying onto the plains

Nurtured to a natural vein

Coursing through years of rain

Storming complex lanes of thought

Weathering the tears friendship brought

Caught by tribulations we fought

Sort a timeline of shorts

Films of memories ignored

As change through time is warmth

Warming to anew to show you grew

Away from addictive due of the same

The bane of what if injecting a stiff

Vibe cosigned by our labelled gift

Brains arranged to untimely split

As age has and length and width

Returning to nothing like a black eclipse

A never ending sail of existences ship

2017, Changes, I forgot for who

Rome roams through years of work

Beads of sweat lurk in its sediment

Foundations birthed from sentiment

The realisation of greatness is sentient

Acknowledging a drive to be heaven sent

Adam and Eve grieve as their will is bent

Introspection spent on an immoral tent

Realising where human nature went

On clear shallow skin it lent

Powers of supposed precision to men

Gradually visually and mentally spent

In interested debt to the souls it vents

Constructing a reverberating type of hymn

That flings your own importance to cling

Onto the edges of self beliefs whim

Plotting by the second hour and day

Building blocks steadily in dismay

In attempt to figure out your own way

Of loving your own mixture of clay

Compiled by a collection of good and evil

A collection of your life’s display

2017, a poem on Rome wasn’t built in a day

Weak, somewhat a root of a young tree

Easily unearthed from towering degrees

Appeased, by potency aiming for the sky

Wondering inside will I achieve can I fly

A fright which derives from 1000 eyes

Plotting on the heroic prize whilst alive

A Golden seat to a feat of respect

In which only the greats can expect

Erecting legacy through pride and set

Reworking your limits to become the best

And yet the Earth comes back to collect

A spreadsheet of its untimely will

Then you will feel lesser than your prime

Optimistically rewind to a lesser time

As you grow frail and unwind in decline

Your image stays strong on the old shine

2017, a poem on lacking belief in the self

Space is diced to a domino effect

Incorrect spending tries to forget

Limited time we never repped

Causes our wake to be upset

Hence staying woke is a fret

To the thing infatuated with itself

Alone with body and consciousness

A constant duality of being it

Storing living will realising innate skills

Debating the inner self to heal

Being unwanted instills introspective thrill

Though being number one selfishly kills

Loneliness is a suicidal pill

For time is a loners buffet of meals

It deals the cards to unlock the seal

Until waves bump the shores to a still

The real me behind the selfish hill

One has to overcome a hack and jill

2017, a poem on time and space

My hands tremble as my stomach churns

The calories burned through texts

That eliminate suspicions in a matter of secs

A flowing conversation somewhat a form of sex

Thumping in my nauseous shallow head

Praying hateful bullets can shred this paranoia

That built on stilts of playful ignorance

Which sparks when the heart feels dark

Hence I dart to you with the hateful art

Or flowing speech preached through fingers

Pinpointing sins of a daft brain which wades through you

The peaks I construe woven to impress you

Like a kimono stitched to dress you

Although I forever stress I yearn to bless you

To earn the rent less rights to your heart

2017, a poem on trying to win someones love

To Lose

You don’t know what’s good until you lose

Then you will cherish what you overlooked

Like the creep of a cigarettes twos

Anxiously vibrating until you’re shook

Fools think twice on paranoia’s cruise

So easy to lose your way when you look

At fine lines in-between how shrewd you grew

A Scrooge at best cherishing a spiteful ruse

Fake smiles to grind that simmering hate I moved

2017, To Lose, a poem of the innate feeling of depression against positivity




To go back to zero anew

For I was a fool in loves stew

Dicing my heart splicing a path

That years prior we already knew

To devour the fool in a Mountainous move

As rocks unsteadied an immobile mood

Moments where love dipped and brewed

I gradually became unknowing of you

Excused by how I grew a seasoned fool

Fuelled by acts of feelings innate attacks

Back shuddering with nonsensical vim

Reverberating the evils that rest in whim

To a point we were emotionally skint

No numbers to think of equations to fix

This bond that persists to exist

One that life doesn’t simply gift

2018, I did not write poetry for a period between like… January until June. Life was dark, and I was working on Rise Up. This was for me, by myself.

Return To Then

Back then, when we were married by time

The then me you could find

As our modes intertwined

And you could paint a picture of mine

It was merely a fragment in time

Captured with a lesser lens

Maybe we were friends, from similar ends

Sometimes we pretend it was more then

So it was life we spent in the time we rent

Socialising with a lot of waste to repent

Likeminded years where the young dement

Existential vents which captured my scent

You smell what my life has cooked

Over time new finds break lines like a rook

My castle was shook when I met these crooks

Stealing my grounding an outstanding book

Which details the attractions that got one hooked

2018, for me by myself. Practice to get back to this


Smile, you’re on camera.

Marching madness into the times of Santa.

You’re supposed to gift the World banter, at heights of your success.

The excess smile was best never kept. Upkeep your wealth through visions of screens.

Every crack in the image demeans the grandiose that seams.

It seems you’re shut in between fame and degrees, that host your trajectory on a line to appease.

These drugs relieve your subdued unease, that foils the happiness you supposedly weave.

Knots grasping the wigs that encased the fibs, your mind rewired to ignite your new sim.

Readying players one breath at a time, as the plain you is AWOL with reflection your only way to remind.

That a smile will always be inclined.

2018, a poem about people thinking you are brand new unless you entertain the past you and the positivity that surrounds you


On my ones, my J’s, I elevate like Jordan’s raise

Of the heel, I praise, switching face to heel

As it peels security I found around the way

Portrayed as a golden arch in dusky grey

Coloured with the palette of a friends phase

Do you remember them days, we use to cotch

Whine over dwindling scotch, boxed a pizza

Dismissing the wonder of a normal geezer

A formal teaser for the ordinary life

Discontented with ourselves in mind

Wondering when this life would shine

Its intrigue into this World of mine

The ends and skengs, blems and tens

With more characters than Ben

You’ve got a friend in me

Foreshadowing the heights we could see

None believed in imagery we couldn’t pree

Hence desperation present to be squeezed

As we shake what they have for their pees

Drive by cemeteries where we once grieved

Memories of wilderness in stories of greaze

Sceptical to see the heights we’ve achieved

You know them Ones, my Gs

2018, I was experimenting about the ends. And being on your ones, in le feels etc.

The human taste billed to a passion From foraging in fashion to matching greens Born from dazzling heat to spicy means Flowers oiling brittle sesame seeds It waves between buds like the haze of weed As aromas weaves inviting our sensory greed To uplift the need to engulf and sustain With lips homing clashing teeth like a rave Wave after wave gulping to savour and save To remember the taste as your hunger wades Tipping the balance of greed to a gluttonous phase

2018, wrote for Dom – she asked me to write a poem on food – @Foodwithdom

I’m not special enough for flowers

To sprout through the sun beaming above Suiting her beauty like a flower of love It shone to vilify the feelings of numb Which run into hope which groped her fun It lingered as free as a venus would be Trapping the flies which saw her a prize Attempting to grasp the gold she kept in hide As portraying her essence alone would rise Flowering presence with energising pride Scheming on the wonders of potency’s climb Whisking notions to admire unadulterated life Such benevolence by nature, an angels cries Which bellowed through God and clear skies Flowers can’t be plucked if they remain inside

2018, wrote this for Solly, she said she’s “not special enough for flowers”, @yannaldn

Layers of trust immaterial as dust Swept aside as persistence is a must Awaiting a day the strong wait pays you back Exacting a Humane lens on a Holy pact Unknowingly losing its weight one paces late Uncommon to feel a prayer displaced Waves falling from eye bags and a parched face As if another angel had fell from grace He provided another chance to heed faith Unraveling the sanctimony of a lying saint For no one is free from the reigns of doubt A Human disposition which swindles one about Until the truth is frothing at the mouth And the dejection is buried within down South To stomache the pain of ignorances clout We cast belief in the benevolence in bout

2018, a poem on faith, wrote this for Mon @xMonezzz

The Human mouth, shrouded with gluttonous doubt

Knowing it bouts hunger rountinely everyday

It displays angst in times the stomache aches

In wake of the greed it stakes as normality

Wondering through waste we recognise the edible

The biodegradable amount processed with haste

The million units accustomed to taste

Shaking the process of being animalistic and raw

Reminding the excess could feel dozens more

Though we heed the weight of a Capitalistic draw

Hence smoking meats, processed like never before

Lays in wait a broke man, whose chest almost thaws

In winter where his dwindling fat can no longer store

The minerals spawned from each bite from the floor

2018, a poem on the gluttony of people

Heartful and brimming with embedded joy

With an aim to soil the buds of many

The aesthetic mimicked grandoise

With gold glittering like stars

In wait of a true Knight like Zoro’s cast

Flamenco dancers hardly stand a chance

For her sauce sizzles on tongues like a dance

The confident ballet of a fingers craft

Piecing a meal from Earthly parts

A mechanic of fruitfulness at last

Her difference exemplified her advance

2018, a poem just for Rianna @xeci_

Sour lips bitten crisp by smoke and tars grips Bitterly ripping, crackling under pressures of the ill The thrill had run dry, fried was this passionate cook Who shook the sativa crumbs from numb finger tips Which were cloaked by the scent of American Spirit As if his karma would exhibit change by a haze His laze grew in comfort believing it a phase Phasing through ways of effort, wading by potential It became existential to bother, in this new sombre That engulfed his capacity to care, wearing him bare As he lay there, billing another bout, pondering On what life is about, his mind would shout As his ease was corned by anxieties rout In order to uphold his phenomenal clout he would scout Talent in the same lane as his amnesia driven doubts Wondering if this is what life is really about Discussing the parallels as they exchange mouths Steadily becoming the same addiction of repetitions drought

2018, a poem on bunning too much and I’m due to bil it

The centrepiece of the soul knows It sows a grounding in the morals you found Bouncing around between the awes of men Pouncing on the peace stored within women The Human tale derailed by a billion schemes A palette of nightmares and dreams mixing to appease Like the warmth of a spirit settling to ease The fiery chest containing the point Which twists you with more passion than joints Haze clouds the early mornings maze As the crystals shine on peace’s path you crave A serial killer of your unknown phase Where your innards boom with vibrations of a rave Frolicking between anxieties pins needles and greys Areas that dictate the remnants of your day All in aim of the plain state you await That you once knew in birth, unbridled by hate The centrepiece is Human, billed to distaste It sows an equation, only you can make

2018, poem on retaining inner peace, for Mary @maryandfrens

So apparently, that’s 39 poems for you to read and enjoy. I hope they made you happy, and if you have read my other work and been alongside the entire journey I want to thank everyone for just being here and adding to my life. It is all a series of click that mounts great things like this, and content for Humanity to consume that is not so dark and dystopian.


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