Everything you don’t take ends up in someone else’s hands. Fiyin Kolawole

What are those beneath that crown 👑? Are they jewels 💎 or silverware? Are they made of bronze🥉or brass? Are they sparkles of distant stars? What is that between those sparks✨? Could it be a regal staff? Could it be a stubborn stump? Could it be a bogus lump? What are they beneath your nose👃so plum? Could it be a lion’s 🦁 den? Could it be a simple sandwich 🥪? Could it be honey 🍯 beehive? What is it about your smile☺? Could it be the sparking✨eyes? Could it be your pointed nose👃? Could it be the delightful lips💋?

What is the purpose of life? I make temerarious to say NOT HAPPINESS but HAPPIERNESS — Have you been sleeping? Sleeping over yesterday’s sorrows, Have you dreamt of leaving? Leaving this dolorous cycle. When you wake up today, to sleep twice at night, when your only escape from agony is to play dead; In the rising sun of tomorrow, you must realize that that dazing wavy gyration is the…

When I am vulnerable and naked, you cover me with your fluffy flesh; When the air is dry and the sun be high, you pour of yourself, a refreshing flood. You are Cielo and I am Sierra. When the running water seek to peel my skin and my face is mashy from being too humid; when scavenging men seek a piece of me, come to my rescue, come glittering, my prince. I’m here, my Cielo: it is I, your Sierra. Come closer, I plead; don’t hide away from me. Let your majesty stand next to my beauty; Come remain with me, never leave my roof. Come be my Cielo, I’ll remain yourSierra.

The drenching rain ☔ will one day stop, The scorching sun ☀ is going to set. And all of life may soon be spent. They all, my son have done their bit but you, I faith, will not relent. Glean of this life in all four 👐 hands; gather of flood, harness the drought. Water 💦 the ground, let adornments grow; Shine while you can, burn🔥all regrets; ’fore all you are is all gone- spent. Spend all you are before it’s spent, Outrun yourself, outrun the rest. Cause all of life may go, soon spent.

When the stormy wind strikes my scrawny home, when the trees can’t bear it’s devouring rage and the clouded skies prepare to rain, I’ll retreat one sec in two-step recline; Then I’ll spread my wings and begin to fly. If the mockingbirds up above me mob, if they dare attempt to splatter my blood and it seems as though it is now my end, I’ll extend my arms in one big last flap; I’ll go up higher and begin to fly.

The good, bad and ugly truth about opportunities and what we make of them. — All humans are equal, but some made themselves more equal than the others. Everyone has some riches- some in joy and some in coins. All riches seem valid- material and immaterial, some are stolen, some ar gotten. All humans are rich, but some made themselves richer than the others. All…

I’m standing tall, been stooping down just enough to lace my boots; I’m giving all to get the crown it’s been all my lifes pursuit- Come and see my slow dance, my slow, slow dance. Come and see my slow dance. Amazing turns like graceful yawns this is how the art…

“All that glitters is not gold” I used to hear my grandma say men are cunny she was told- making a circus, to fables, convey till all are weary of lies retold and all that glitters is called gold “All that glitters is not gold” yet they grovel at twinkle’s feet pleading and striving for more of it, all that’s man into one mold even the bravest does not resist cause he that shivers is long sold. When all that glitters is called gold please remember to truth uphold, don’t join the quitters, they are but foes be sure to glitter, be-yond. be bold cause if you don’t we won’t be whole and all that glitters will be called gold.