Love is King

I see the moon but
it sees me not.
I fell dead in love, then
you rose me with the warmth
of your kiss.
From the eyes I shut;
my fate I dream, like a
kite in the wind.

I dream of love

overthrowing the moon
in the still of night.
As though with wealth
I trade love, but no I
stay stealth one eyed,
partially blind to you.
I am one, growing to

Five Hearts

Embedded I am to
a bed of thoughts,
anchored to this
ocean floor

Asking why, why
is love a game of
five hearts and a

A joker, a king and
a queen?


What is it beyond

the fence that taunts my gaze

and set rage ablaze…

Shall I pace and divulge my rage a-free

to set this matrimony into abyss

Or erase my thoughts, my fears,

my hate, my rage and insanity and fill this

empty vessel with love from behind the fence.


Bad romance

I’m crying love;
My tongue is
writing you letters;
Letters of love, blind to
the emotions within.



Never seen is the faceless truth of law

in the court of flaws devoured by


Truth play dead in the library of


You can’t touch the truth, its a


Inquietude, truth burns lie,

ashes light in weight, it has no

measure on the scale of judiciary

I study the pursuit of anatomy of

iniquity in antiquity. I dissect the

anatomy of life and therein, 

embossed in a cocoon of humility,

the seeds of truth.



When fire dwindles

low within who

will help rekindle

its glow


My thoughts wander

carelessly in controversy

of heresy in percept


I accept, for I have no legs

the shadow consumed it


My thoughts unkempt, that

I should discard with no

regard for regrets


So I did.



The Nigh

Let the night enshroud us

as the day beckons

Take my word and infuse

with desire of your heart

till morning comes



Poetry and love  like the rustling of wind

with an inconsistent heartbeat tempi


To the weave and imperfection of my

mistress, dark and twisted like root


Imperfection of her perfection;

a wagon of jargon is hers


Her lips bloody in hue


Her voice orchestrated in-tune to

the symphony of a phantom





I’m walking on stars

the moon is my footstool

I gaze beyond the horzion

The black eagle soar higher

than imagined.



I was a passion fruit until taken

against my will, and scattered like

common corn with no cob in a foreign

soil to toil


I am one, with every creak and turn

of the slave ship. I no longer fear them;

I have grown accustomed.