MUSPIRATIONS

I While i tread through paths where life and pain groans.. Walking past time, beyond the halls of kings. As i walk through the valley where sin moans Towards the hills and plains where terror sings. Let me abide in the ruins of glory. In the fields where grasses are made of gold. Let righteousness design me the story. On the myrtle shrubs of mysteries untold. For i wish in this life no hunger more. Than the hunger for the streets of heaven On the fertile plains where fountains explore. yonder heights, in eternity's coven.. Let me not in this life of vain befall. The whims of sin, as i await thy call.. II The tides of the sea say to its shores. "We can never be, no, not for too long, Shall i hope in earnest, on faceless mirrors. Till ruin becomes the honeyed song" On life's lane we walk without foresight.. We walk as dead men bound to time Hoping for light in the abundance of light. Trapped in the dungeons of predating crime But look to

The path to fame shows no remorse.. For the wretched sons of the poor.. The heart of shame places it blame.. On its failures and its flaw.. Life's storms seems to kiss the sky... As it rages up and down.. In buoyant play. It spreads its wings to fly.. In the mirth of its glorious dance of destruction... Like lilies on the shores of a white sea.. We become pawns to trials and throes.. Slapping the skin forbidden for the eyes to see.. Drowning in the chords of the sombre songs of woe.. Troubles become projects marked for release.. Mistakes, adventures on the valley of black stones.. Terracing through the streets of deceit.. Nemexix preaches the gospel of pre-dawning woes.. Astute claims of gross wisdom.. Finds no place in the mysteries of the kingdom.. Thus we ride on, like lambs to the kiln.. On life's valleys and hills.. We tend to love, cuddle and care.. For her, in oblivious display.. Rejection morphs out to suit the fear. Formed in our hearts, with no delay.. Sorr

The morning chills, with frozen burns ...On my skin, As hair strands reform.. Erect like soldiers armed with guns.. As the yuletide hits me with scorn.. The Chilly haze of fog now smiles ..On my face, In white powdered plight.. The winds disrespectful, now plies.. Strong torrents, in freezing delight.. The roads now sings the songs of praise.. As buses and sleek cars now race.. To hinterlands, built with thatched roofs.. And villages, with rusted roofs.. In rustling sways, Christmas relays.. Its rays of hope, on frail mankind. The birth of Jesus rings for few.. As many bask in randy screws.. The hymns are sung in sanctuaries.. Of different lands, in continents.. His birth created the estuaries.. Of salvation, and death to sin.. In timeliness, the Christened day.. Blooms rays of hope for the derailed.. The winds plays the chords in yon fray.. With reflections on hymnal trails. The looney tunes of Christmas sounds.. Now speaks volumes in hearty thew.. C

One of my most recent works...