Dear friend

How old is it,the tittle is in descrite.
Often we be missing you
behaving in an unlikely manner,
how far can it be,shouting and screaming.
Death! Death!! When?...
Though we havin't reached,atleast this time we laughed and giggled.
Those sounds and colours
so pointless to ask for forgiveness,
fearless of whats to come next
atleast we said..."Rest In Peace"
With our voices will tell our differences.
Remember my tears would be invisible,
darkness pilled up along the pathway glowing mysterically,
How old is it,the tittle is indescite
and i'll be missing you
for these moments i spend alone,
depressful days uttering words of my conscience...
Your gone and i'm left alone,
I would be silent,thinking what a delicate memory.
I would be crying,
my tears triumphantly emerge
i would be missing you,
dear friend your not forgotten,
so beware,keep a watchful eye,
for i will hold you dearest when we meet again
somewhere else from here.

Enough Said...thank you

The clock is ticking times runing out,
counting down slowly saying welcome to my story.
When is thy who said it was mine just so nice,
vigorously it tense my emotions,
feeling said yet its not a journey to an end.
Thou thee has a historical lie,shall thy see the truth to my personal lesh,

What?...dounting each second,
a year it stands when it renders flaring from a long distance.
Whom shall thee be named thou thy hav to speak in phrases it remaind...
bell sounds even when sundays have been left,
the chorus to an end.

The clock keeps tingiling my ears,
when will it end,
what suggestion do you have?
it eased for a while meanwhile i said,
enough!...
i felt that touch it never last
thou it continued time and time and again screaming like a worrior,
battling to an End,
enough said it was a light i could not contain
thou it spread through within it never stopped...
his heart stiffined like a solid rock.

Patient,listen thy who believed relieved,
thee sweaped our minds and heart pounded like he who laid there.
Walking away for he came to rest,
wondering if heaven really existed good by...silent

Untittled

It was a hand full of dust the share of untilled fields,
surrounded by wildeness and viciousness spoiled by the front blest of salvation.
Thou it was silent,the whispering birds purify the heavens,
longing an aching in my heart exeedingly tearing him apart he never feard.
Untieng the knot of his burden,then freedom spoke.
Enough...,alone no more.
Defeat not the fail to try not deniel.
when all seem lost rest asured,continue...
Emptiness was the theme to giving up,but the journey was close to an end.
The wild pour its strews of ecstacy and thankless to hunger for his blessings,
far beyond his memories cherished to keep peace and prosperity.
It was a hand full of dust the share of untilled field a land beyond.

So NN et:"wide open"

Louded incounted blipping like a tone of birds,hanging on a broken branch.


Scoutching in a green simbeling carpet,like a jungle nothing like the dungean.


Wide open,a sparcils of beathrate thine,just
picturing a skalpture created by leverage skylark.

Wembling in a sour field,filled with corn plants,hungary with swet,scoutching in a wide open land.


Marking clouds of lark with trumbling steps of amusement in a wide open land.

A bit of hope

When it comes you'll hear a sound from the mist,
do not run,bow and say hi...
When it falls from the sky,do not fear,lift a hand and pick it up with pride...
When you salute,wave goodbye,do not throw a stone behind and go...
When will the answers to my questions be puzzled in my mind,leaving me with spaces in between...
This time its called letting go of the past and trailing over to the next ride...longing comfort for i pause in the cold winter day,which way to go next.

Well known

Sold to the slide face creature in the middle of the ocean.
Made slave selling potato bacorns in the jungle.

Told not to enter with muddy footsteps creating chaos,
what has mankind turned into after sins dusted out.

Awaken in the early mornings of winter with a class of milk and no bread.
Atleast God watched over him.

Soon he turned into a king.
Fair with a share not to see history repeats itself.

Each night singing like the night he was sold to be a slave and serve a man with no mercy.

Found peace and happiness after being an example of no truth to life given.

Vowed not to see misery in each and everyone of them,
but given the precious gifts to please his blessings.
Not forgeting what sees him through.

Everythings comes to an end at some point yet believing in each soul that begges for shelter or food,
just to sees through the day or rain.

Wicked like the city that demolished for its disgusting acts.
Never been drown into unhealthy states for faith kept in the heart.
"Now that came true what next..."

No journey has been these long,
they stare with surprise why he still stands up.
Courage and dedication...
honour and careful attention to every detail.

"slite step"...thats the sound of the wicked wishing but not distracted.
Continued with love and giving out guidens for he had nothing to fear.

Placing his hands on the right sight,
holding on close until this day.
No longer able to walk and spreed what turned him into a well spoken man he is,

well known for his work no longer a slave but a saviour to mankind...remember that...