Let me gaze into your eyes
Look deep into mine
Let our souls intertwine
And create that magic we cant deny
Don't look away, my twinflame
As I break through every barrier
you've built up
I promise if you let me in
I'll keep your heart warm
with my undying love
Embracing the unknown together,
So scary, but we can't give up
There is nothing our souls together
wont overcome.
A burned up system of control
A revolt spoken with flames
Silence was no longer an option
Peace had been exhausted
The only language they communicate
Violence
The police man specialises in brutality when it comes to the black man
'Stop and search'
An excuse they use
To abuse
The 'blacks"
Used as a slur
By the oppressor
As if it's poison, as if it's something to beware
Of
The Brixton riots of 1981
An explosion ready to happen
All that was needed was a lighter to spark the fuse
13 bodies
13 humans
13 black men,
Lost to hate
Tensions rose like the smoke in the buildings
A quite smile left on the faces of those reeling
Their own kind of justice, it was oh so freeing
Retaliation they didn't expect
In their own words they believed they had 'controlled the blackies'
But we have a weapon
One that whispered through generations
Nothing loud
Just something strategic
Something quiet
A lingering secret
Black rage
A communal experience
Of built up fatigue
Of the uk's involvement
In the mistreatment Of black people
Excitement built up,
riding the hot air balloon
with my two daughters.
Turned to fear for falling fast,
bounced on the ground, and then dragged.
The frightening ride
happened in New Mexico
sixteen years ago,
did not dampen my spirit
for riding another one.
Felt no excitement
nervous from the prior ride,
calmly went for it.
Magic moment in the sky,
view of sunrise and balloons.
In many parks along peaceful walking trails
wind phones can now be found across the world.
With the help of an old rotary dial telephone,
mourners can speak freely to lost loved ones.
These phones are the direct line to the other side
for those who sadly never got to say goodbye.
Mourners can speak their heart into the wind
to help process their grief on the road to healing.
A phonecall has the power to release built-up anguish
for those longing to attain closure and a sense of peace.
AP: Honorable Mention 2025
I trace every move you make,
I trace every note you breathe.
But you're a Mozart in disguise
How could I ever compete?
Blind with tears and rage,
I compared myself to what seemed bulletproof,
All while my doubts built up inside,
Forming an invisible bruise.
I tried to be more like you
Though I knew it was no use.
I swallowed all your words,
Like bitter, sacred juice.
What once was admiration
Turned into unhealthy obsession.
I was far too lost,
Blind to your quiet imperfections.
I called it love, but it proved to be venom.
I tried to be you, all the same.
I wore your voice like a second skin
And on the way, I lost my name.
I wish I had seen earlier: I can never be you,
No matter how I chased your tone.
After all, your song must be your own
And mine must learn to stand alone.
There once was a guy who crafted a poem;
it’s possible that you might even know him.
It seems that he had a way with the verse;
he wasn’t the best, but he wasn’t the worst.
They’d come in a flurry, the bad and the good;
he’d try to transcribe them as fast as he could.
Inevitably, there’d be a cessation;
it seems his muse would go on vacation.
It was times like these, when the words weren’t flowing,
he decided to try his hand at rowing.
With a handle and chain instead of an oar,
he got in good shape and built up his core.
With thousands of others, he entered a race,
and managed to snag an age group first place.
He thought maybe then that he might see his muse;
the subject of rowing perhaps could be used.
Return of the linguist: on fire, on fleek!
Alas, but instead, just the paddle-less creek.
Now bound and determined to settle a score,
he’s sulking and sculling towards some distant shore.
Every person of us sins.
Day by day doing something bad but getting bumped on events of doing good along getting stitched by pins.
You see, hobbies like doing a Sport helps your brain to better start communicate or even just drinking one of your favorite teas can leave your body warmth stay high.
When a sin comes across again the worst being the lie,
you are agreeing of the stuff you buy.
That will slowly built up on your back.
When someone does lie,
it actually does not make the victim cry.
For one minute maybe you made them pry,
but they will go on like it has been just a try.
While you have them close connected on your heart wramped around it like a tie,
it is indeed difficult to unwrap, sigh.
Lies leaves you stutter, unsure, guilty,
that it leads you to leave the people who confronted your lies.
Because of you they might get in danger
but you still have a heart.
Even seen by a stranger..
Love, love, the old fashioned way
With courtships that lasted more than a day
This new modern age of total free love
Has its appeal but missing the hugs
It's straight to the bedroom on the very first date
Never a thought of perhaps we should wait
Back in the day we wanted a virgin
To experience together the joys of flirting
The coy little love words that promised the moon
Wishing so badly it happens real soon
Anticipation built up in our throbbing veins
Imagining that moment when passion reigns
Now it's “pleased to meet you, let's go to bed!”
Oh for the days of mystery instead
Thinking of when your union's complete
That moment when both are swept off your feet
That moment sublime lasts forever and ever
To happen today, the chance would be never
Words thrown like daggers
piercing my soul
When you were sent into my life,
I was sure it was to make me feel whole
the emptiness I'd always known,
had started to slowly fade
feeling our energies flow so deep and strong,
making our bond grow everyday
theres no way this can be wrong
I fell more and more in love with you with every word you'd say
believing you spoke from the heart
truly convinced that I found my other part
loneliness disappeared
the closer we continued to get
Finally feeling that our one of a kind vibes
were no doubt 100% legit
but when the doubts began to hit
And the anger was the only emotion that I'd get
you were blinded by the hatred that built up
It was the only emotion your soul could emit
always wondering when the day would come
where you decided the only decision was to run
leaving the ghost of our love far in the past
and forgetting every promise you made
That we'd last
As the years pass me by,
I've remained stuck in a cage.
Built up by my fears,
made strong by my rage.
I sometimes get to wander free in a garden filled with color.
A blissful peace within myself, forgotten moments after it's discovered.
Retreating back to the comforts of my cage.
A confinement of my mind, body, and soul.
CHAOS
Chaos is the absence of all order
As is now with me, totally adrift
Supposedly I was the constructor
But who was really the architect
I assume blaming me was correct
Not some pretentious conductor
Yet, this was never seen as a gift
As if insanity crossed the border
Like a wall built up of dry bricks
That now is a mere scattered pile
I sense when the harmony ceases
And has that uneven odd rhythm
All due to some unknown schism
Just as my life that’s all in pieces
Rebuilding could take a long while
As disorder has learned new tricks
A Candy Storefront window, a passerby pauses briefly at the array of heart-shaped enwrapped in velvet reds, filled with sweet treats like years before. The same tricks deployed as the byway take point passing a park. Then a heaven-sent gift the gentle walker, drifts a spun floater being a dove's solitaire wing. A hand reaches down and gathers it up in mental discourse. In brevity breathes deeply, and exhales soothingly. Contented, the gentle walker heads back to town, where an empty crimson velour box is bought, he makes one more stop before heading back home with a frozen smile. Amidst the expected backdrop scene where two fluted glasses filled with Dom Perignon Champagne atop a white-silk-covered small round table that graces two silver candle holders, pre-lit. The significant other donning a maroon single-piece nightdress is presented a box. He sits as she opens the box and oddly looks. As he explains his day's escapade freed him from the rigamarole being rhetorical, he lastly gifts her with a smaller box. She opens built-up with a hint of suspense that shreds away to tears. She looks up to the penitent soul while holding a solitaire diamond ring.
Where was your manual for me.
The mandatory rehabilitation.
Ignorance is bliss and you had built up frustration. Aggravation.
Where was your patience.
Waiting for the other shoe to drop contemplating.
we needed a manual for the situation.
That’s all i’m saying.
On the other hand where was the contribution.
lost for words at the amusement.
The alternative resolution.
Where was your manual for me.
The mandatory rehabilitation.
Ignorance is bliss and you had built up frustration. Aggravation.
Where was your patience.
should of said can you do a favor for me?
provide the struggle.
show her how hard you had to hustle.
what it’s like to get into a scuffle.
it’s all fun and games until you have to adapt.
you got work with what you have.
that you didn’t have apart of your craft.
it lacked and lagged.
Where was your manual for me.
The mandatory rehabilitation.
Ignorance is bliss and you had built up frustration. Aggravation.
Where was your patience.
if you were taught would of been a different story.
should have been given more.
what you had on your plate was more than you could afford.
Serpent-shaped streams of tears slithering down my reddened cheeks
As I silently cry out all of the feelings built up for weeks.
Quietly reflecting on how he's changed because of my critiques.
Thought streams formed and built up the dream;
I was both subject and the theme.
I believe things aren’t as they seem;
I nearly burst out in a scream.
I drifted into a deep stream,
Forming the heart of the first dream.
I shone bright like a guiding star,
While others trailed behind, afar.
I slept in sleep, defied time’s flow,
Dream within dream, a dreaded woe.
There, life took on a vibrant turn,
Showered with gifts I could not spurn.
Success drew close, wealth in my reach,
I needed peace without a breach.
But hell fire consumed me whole,
And I prayed heaven as my goal.
I woke up drenched, my heart raced fast,
Salvation possible at last.
Tears welled up, trepidation swayed,
Fear and dread ceased to invade.
An echo called, so sharp, so near,
A voice breaking through calms from fear.
Mother’s touch brought me from that pool—
Water splashed; her morn’s cruel tool.
Hell was a dream within that dream,
A chance to be part of God's team.
Grateful, I have another chance ~
With God in a new circumstance.
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