If there was a second I didn't think about you
God himself would have to point it out
Because this sample of heaven is 24/7
As the minutes tick on since you been gone
I sit and think on all the things I did wrong
Every second I ask myself two things: why and where
why didn't I realize what I had harmed
and where for the club, I was there instead of with you in my arms
For every minute I spent with you I remembered
like when we first met in September
The minutes that we slow danced together
Are energies collided and warmed my heart despite the cold weather
Every minute with you I was on cloud nine
There was no question, I was yours and you were mine
It was through those minutes, sixty-seconds was expanded
With you it gave the affection I had so long demanded
I will dedicate the hours to what is present
For it is through the hours of thinking that I learned my lesson
The hours since we've been apart
They have pushed and pulled on my heart
Through the hours I remember what once was
How this simple lust could have been love
For every hour, my lips mouth the four syllables of your name
Even if time froze, I would still do the same
Money can't compare to what love can bring in a lifetime
Who wants to be a millionaire?
I was once one, but I didn't need three lifelines
All I needed was you to see me through
My rough days and longest nights
With you, darkness came to the light
In conclusion, to every second, minute, and hour I write to, Know that I still think of you.
In this field of plantation;
Where I walk and plant various
parts of myself around this
I sometimes look back and notice
I recognize the lettuce of charity
I’ve grown constantly through the
the tomatoes of kindness which
resonates red to the world,
For as the blood flows within my
Kindness will always be found
Also my celery of respect remains
And continues growing as much as I
And yet for all these positive elements
I’ve learned to express to my
Occasionally I plant a bad seed which
poison’s the essence of my entire
And for that, I apologize.
Although a perfectionist in small doses I
am not perfect,
And as a result my garden of Eden
contains more infamous fruit then I
Stemming from lack of growth in my
While a few of any negative offspring
None have been more consistent in growth
than my deception seed.
Unfortunately as I’ve grown into
So has my subconscious lying,
Sadly after a while you don’t even
realize that it still sleeps in your
And as a human constantly harvesting
you learn to accept it;
However evolution never grows
And even a perfect saint contains a
lifetime of imperfect downfalls,
So while I’m familiar with deception,
It is those virtuous seeds that grow
That are parallel with my height
and with that, I’m content.
God never asked for our field to be
But to show progression,
So that it could display many of lives
And as my life continues adding up,
I can promise the world that my
dark seeds subtract simultaneously;
But yet I understand we’re all human,
And we must reap what we
Therefore I’m hoping that my seeds of
empowerment in the form of black eyed
peas, fall into my neighbors field,
Thereby enriching their lives for yet another
I could care less about the four
corners of insults,
That intelligence invites;
It is always the first straw of
grass that’s grows,
which reveals the popular outcast;
As a youth, I found my image cut down
into this manufactured silhouette.
Drenched in social rain, my peers
had never found me more alienated,
Then when I spoke fluently of diverse
They did everything in their power to provide
a verbal umbrella,
However, the texture remains weak and
This stormy parade that remains’ dripping is
indeed an afterthought,
For within this cranial mansion resides
For the more abstract and surreal
elements of life;
It is that secluded gland which reveals
the renaissance of men, who wear
Now wearing the shoes of a young
A taste of charisma resides in my
However this slight addiction to external
Comes in second to my first drug of
Membership into this fraternity may take a lifetime;
So don’t be surprised when resistance
knocks at your door,
Intimidated by the lion that dwells within
Indeed intellect is the misunderstood
That blossoms sweeter when accepted.
Yesterday sent its regards in a farewell
A gesture of fate intact, sealed for the
Or better yet, the progressive harmonies
of God, such as we are.
It was perhaps the plot of the universe,
When we slept in yesterday’s hands,
And I asked you the question of
In hopes of fading away mutually, after one
Heaven must have spied on my everlasting
Because with your pearl vision directed
And your soft veil of ebony near me,
You agreed, with no hold of hesitation.
So under the chapel’s protection is where
we coast now,
And a road less traveled is scattered with
While I did lead with company, along this aisle
The stares of 1000 miles did not present themselves,
Until your walk was introduced, thereby polishing
this floor into glory.
As I stood in the patience of joy, a distance was
illustrated between us,
You pressed forward and this negative space lost
As you approached with the tranquil touch of
My nerves fell sober, and I knew that which was
parallel before me was art,
The speechless beauty, I favored in sight.
The preacher spoke a traditional verse, as our
eyes locked in perfect reflection;
Declared through spoken word, was the
confirmation of our ribbon in the sky,
Crowned upon your precious finger was the
weight of symbolism,
Silently glowing through the everglades;
With no restriction, we explored the middle
ground in unison.
We exited through the heart of the sun, cherishing
the unfamiliar heat;
It appears that life’s divine notary has signed off
on the greatest equation ever solved,
May our souls forever write in this blessed ink.
Humble yesterday, your intimate memories are now
bearing false witness, following our demise.
There are scattered whispers of a residential cloud
nine, that I called my own after the storm.
No myth could be written guiltier.
For beyond this stable armor of masculinity,
existed a worst case scenario that I had obtained.
It is no fault of your own, to interpret me with the
simplest guess, and yet, it would be the greatest
therapeutic comfort, knowing that you recalled my
brief torture. Here it reads.
The cruelest servant was obviously day one.
For as I showered in my own gloom, the clearest
joy accepted no hint of my presence.
The hours worked overtime to deplete every page
of life, that bordered around this broken clockwork
By now I merely existed by priorities merciless
hand. As I forced myself upon my studies, there was
no absence of absent guilt on call.
I realized this inevitable misstep, the moment I
stumbled into a single entity yet again.
By the time I found a conscience to shave towards
a better day, spring had already departed,
and I was just beginning to exit sobrieties
The cause to blame beyond myself was tempting;
to see the bewildered scene, as opposed to feeling
its complex wounds.
I yearned for this flood to cease constantly, in
However, the suffering hadn’t pierced my spirit just
yet. That cherry that ultimately left a mark on top
was my sick eyes.
Perhaps defined as the perfect fate for the already
faltered, was my cluttered throat, which
allowed no apologetic cliques to exist in air.
The devil’s vomit that would not pause until
more suffering regurgitated, and lastly,
the mindful ache that vibrated at its own
Friends could sense the hell that plagued my
sleep. So much that they offered their similar
battles to my faint ears.
I heard their souls, but never their hearts; only
mine was selfish enough for that luxury, despite
its hostile coma. But then, 5 months, 22 days, and
4 afternoon hours later, another chapter was introduced,
and it was entitled The Aftermath.
The acceptance of what could only be formerly
beautiful, came to be the answer that cured me.
In the end, I was thankful for the inferno, and
overjoyed that these words could be written from
Previous rose, as you open and fold these heartfelt
abrasions, be mindful of these moments that are no
longer bleeding, but rather teaching, of those bullets
that never truly miss.
“H” represents the humility she
displayed from the moment she
opened her eyes;
“E” would suggest a revision of
Because it would take many stories and
infinite lifetimes to explain the beauty
of her essence;
And “R” would ask for a human replica
For many men should admire such as I
Modern Shakespeare’s should pay
For her personality writes poetry
And yet the pen remains in my
To describe beauty in third person.
My cold and nonchalant heart has never
asked for another summer to warm up too,
Unless purposeful reasons for an appeal of the
heart were discovered,
These reasons always spelt out
As in life which contains both success
I’ll risk it all, in hope’s for mutual
I’d serenade time if it meant I could
spend more in her serenity;
Forget the ridicule and episodes of embarrassment,
The only thing on television tonight is the
heartfelt expression of a peacock,
Waiting to display his romantic feathers to the
Today and forever;
I’ll dedicate to her.
What is this period, which illustrates the weak motions
of dull blades, and misguided swings?
I am an unfortunate imitator, as the fearless edge I once
owned, has faded prominently among the flock as well.
It is not the passion which is forever stuck in the quiet
ignorance of sheath, but rather, the unmarked areas of
unrest that requires a warrior’s decisive cut.
But we are now scholars of sedentary efforts,
and our slashes no longer spread deep caution among
However, we have not defeated ourselves without the
cause of Judas.
We have been disarmed for ages, courtesy of those who
marvel in our jagged failures. The audacity of this
artificial textbook entitled humanity; to neutralize the
arsenal of kings: past, present, and future.
But still , how could one explain the brick and mortar that
is possessed in thy sword?
What is this technique from our natural birth that been
suppressed until further notice?
Answer: To exist within the greatest offense, and act,
before the call of reaction, our current foe.
To stab forethought into brief memory, and thrust
Baring all punishment for blood falsely exposed.
If no site of fault becomes of this moment, then our
finest cut will never perish.
As the blade plays aggressive with the follow through,
one may notice the innocent silhouettes that are favored
behind it’s whisper.
These are the gentle foundations that cause us to guard
without asking. As worshippers of security, we slice away
those inches of influence, that could bring illogical charm
Thus, our steel diminishes when imbalances come into
fruition. There is no better worry than our silent stance.
There was a time when our subjective follow through
never wavered, and our swords denied the flirtatious
Opinions along the straight edges of debate, were once
a warrior’s first and last identity.
Such times are now recorded as a fairy tale of
Those wounds that once had no apprehension or fear,
now hesitate to slash the fallacies of others.
We are now the soft beggars of war, without our
extended bass to culminate polarity yet again.
As this battle extends itself to another sphere,
I pray that prayer becomes obsolete in the realm of
necessities’, and that these statues of war rediscover
their purposeful precision,
Referencing themselves back to their original title: Men.
I once vacationed in the company of silence,
It was an unconscious scene bestowed upon
Although I had a calling that answered my
A myth of joy existed outside this career,
I was left drowning in limbo, without an
But there was a witness, who studied my trail
And without apprehension, she helped to resurrect the
the location of destiny;
Allow me to reminisce on such.
For it was in a previous portrait, that I encountered
a dozen roses;
Of these that I held, there were none that exceeded
a brief touch,
A momentary scent that never returns;
Now understand with this expression, it is not a
boast I intend to create,
For I was seeking that gentle grip, in hopes of it never
I continued a cold failure, never realizing the warmth of
victory that smiled ahead.
I settled on the peak of solitude, as my faith passed
away in obscurity,
And yet, beyond these frozen eyes, there existed a
narration of fate, waiting for my company;
For you see kids, I’ve walked past the casual frame
of your mother,
And misplaced my sight, I’ve missed her spirit by
And when there was a vision of opportunity, my space
was occupied with trivial games.
Then one day, I discovered a possession that linked
heaven and earth forever,
An umbrella your mother left abandoned;
And yet, it was through her innocent misfortune,
That I discovered her abstract songs, played upon
by the perfect key,
Her heart that sits in prosperity, from the charity of
A collection of beauty, your mother gracefully
By the time we crossed into cupid’s lair, I knew
already, the verses of duality were written true,
And with that, the perfect stranger discarded her
Leading Renee into popularity;
Hello became the endless quote, we spoiled into
As the task of life left this page briefly open,
I responded with a mutual exit, confirming these
lips of joy,
And with revelations of challenge forever slayed,
I peacefully fell, forever breathless.
For I would never sin from these
Such words that would spoil the beauty
of your existence;
But if you requested such a crime, I’d argue
for remnants of your time,
And charm you as my fatal audience.
Of these things I would cite verbally,
Would be the origin of shape, gifted upon
Those curves that gave birth to the unpredictable
patterns of life,
Swaying the adoration of midnight flesh, into these
new testaments of woman.
How simply intoxicating is this craving?
To bear witness to chocolate unspoiled, as it lay
peacefully naked over maker’s canvas;
Let it not melt away, before millions can sample its
Perhaps art can be reborn from such stillness,
While wasted labels could fade into retirement,
Convincing the almighty to revise the structure of
And acknowledge this last miracle…Lupita.
What else could be molded from this paradise, but a
Queen’s thoughts and motives?
If there is nothing but truth in this crime, then I’ve painted
the solitude of heaven, perfectly.
Inhale an envious mask upon your castrated
and prompt this necessary illusion to commence.
Bathe yourself in ego-filled waters till you feel superior
to the gavel, and exit without caution from this perfect
prison called home.
The audience of youthful flattery awaits you, and those
who you hunt,
Anticipate your roar, and contemplate a permanent
Masquerade around the elementary wheels of
transportation, and make sure your crown has no opposition.
Be seated in the rear levels of mischief, and target those
who sit angelically, in frontal silence.
Remember to grin until your devilish smile has a
And act without tears, your greatest show without
Be ignorant to punctual chimes that sing, and lean on
absent temptation for comfort.
Show patience for perfectly weak; allow them their
steps upon the wax floors,
Give them their fairy tale of safety.
For they are dreamers, and you are their scheduled
Enter classrooms initially through the minds of prey.
Let them introduce the beast without forethought,
Observe their careful whispers among the intellectual
And standby till their guard sleeps.
Lastly, steal the eyes of misery from your contemporaries
as you walk in, and sit among the walls of miseducation.
For knowledge is not the vocation you seek.
Only the beauty of suffering can compensate your lust.
Begin by insulting the eager minds that roam
brilliantly in the front row.
Shout high praises from hell, belittle their flawless
And bear no breaks of mercy until tears fall.
Now shift your heinous gears toward the everlasting
prom queen, your unrequited distraction.
She does not lean towards you, therefore you must
harm her pedestal as well.
Do not hesitate to disarm this glow that will never
infiltrate your surroundings.
Confirm that your motions are approved, by the
council of expulsion,
And give them infamous leeway to imitate in your
Reminisce joyfully over sin that will never turn pure,
as you return home.
Remove the wool from your eyes, and follow sorrow
till it wants no hint of you any longer,
A similar thought entertained by parents you forever
Lastly, if you urge beyond repair, and accept that the
sheep you threaten everyday will never turn,
Despite your purpose,
Then feel free to act as those that previously harmed,
And contemplate a permanent departure.
May god bless these faithful carriers of misery.