a few given words


I can’t help that I am who I am,

A writer, a poet, an artist, a baby,

a crier who cries,

sheds tears like lies,

oh what contradiction you are —

a giant surprise!

look in his eyes,

water will form,

smiles will swarm

and turn all those leaves like a storm,

for believe me he’s tough,

tough as his faith,

difficult as can be,

almost impenetrable —

it’s a blessing he fears the Lord.

feeling inspired.


we are not slaves,

lest we submit,

my only object is to be lit,

lit by the sun

lit by the moon

lit by the bluntness

lifting the room.

what are we here,

why are we here,

take me to places,

never been known,

way with my ace,

way to my home,

little miss fucked him,

turned him to stone.

how long will it take


There is no need for resistance,
My darling from a far,
We’ve been all along this quiet front for longer than an instance.

My eyes are enthralled,
By all your existence,
The softness of your skin,
the tenderness you’re emitting.

White Feathers


Your veil makes you that much more,

Attractive to my inner yearnings,

Oh how I wish that I could be,

Underneath that cotton surface

covering your head, tracing along your hair,

Down your arched spine.

I see you in my dreams,

Lying on the softness of my bed sheets,

Your olive skin against them,

Drowning in a pool of white feathers;

They fall from my pillowcases,

Into the nakedness between your thighs.