I box in yellow Gox box socks.
Anger's like a battery that leaks acid right out of me And it starts from the heart 'til it reaches my outer me
Oh I know it's cliché but yeah they say that great men make it in- To places few others who even do take the risk've ever been
Poetry isn’t an island, it is the bridge. Poetry isn’t a ship, it is the lifeboat. Poetry isn’t swimming. Poetry is water.
You ask me why I don't speak Not a word at will But write so much worth well over a mill' Well I value words like I value kisses A sober one, a closer one penetrates the heart Darling it's how it mends it
If I knew what to do I'd do more than write a song for you
See I woke up to this God-body movement, three eyes wide open to this God-mind blueprint. The dynamic of this climax at the peak of a God-conscious is what I seek. Subliminally, I speak fluent, 10 figure mind, I just do it. Life unravels its turmoils and these pen to paper sessions ease my pain and free my mind as I watch the rain, looking through the souls window for a sign. Take you pass the senses into the sixth, take you into a place of paradise and bliss in all but only a few notice.
Words like wistfully and sublime are penned into prose and rhyme. As night gives way to dawn, life gives way to time
One little Indian left all alone, he went out and hanged himself and then there were none.
Versification is, indeed, indispensable for music, but rhyme, solely for rhyming's sake, most pernicious.
I'm the complete technique of rhyme. I don't have no boundaries.
Rhyme is an attempt to reassemble and reaffirm the possibility of paradise. There is a wholeness, a serenity, in sounds coupling to form a memory.