There's A War Going On Within

The greatest war a man could ever fight in is a war against himself. His enemy and his alliance both lie within. Beneath his skin is the armor that either saves him or makes him very vulnerable to defeat. The hunter or the hunted. Being ambushed or doing the ambushing determines victory or waving the white flag. The Art of self; the strategy for winning is a tactic so complex, even for Sun Tzu. With faith as the ammo, a Japanese pilot's soul and Rambo's Heart, The true trooper will always battle on. 

Loyal To Her Royalty

His life with Her is only in the keyboard of phones, which is why every night before he says goodnight, he prays for a life that makes Her his wife; one that's lived outside of phones and inside of a Huxtable-family kind of home. He envies the tattooed vine that grows along Her side because he wishes he could be that close to Her. Focused on Her hand, he notices that a permanently inked ring already sits upon the finger meant for marrying, but She swears it can easily be removed. A Midwest Gal with sin city dreams, sprouted from the soil of the "Show Me" state, so he challenges Her, "Show me!!" Whether already spoken for or just held in place with a promise, to him She's Royal. A Queen named King, but it's more than just a maiden, because Her power rules and has him loyal, wanting to kneel before Her feet, praying that She someday knights he.

Patrón Night Gibberish

Scrap the pages of the past to refresh an aging memory in the present about a time when life's mood was insane, like a Cypress Hill Mane. Boy, sure glad those days are now a fade. Fast forward to a new maze. Social surfing on a Sunday night, Sunday night with Baby, living round in a cramped space, like triplets in Mommas stomach before their birthday, where human birds kissed by the bright starlight sing songs that entertain the Cupid vein and make the soul dance, like Marvin did when he was sexual healing. Struck by matter, clutched close by a Dame as if Louis V was my name. I was Her Pepé and She was my Penelope, but I wanted more than just to pet Her Pussycat.

Black and white, like Tyra Banks, She's a Compton Kid cultured over the years; A little Hood and a little Brentwood, Her life's a Hybrid between the haves and have not's, I call it "Ratchet Class!!" And judging by all the scars in Her convo She must have had nine lives because She hasn't rolled over yet. Pitching Her sell better than a door to door man, She was real psychic about our connection, She said Her palms read a long prosperous future, one that included me, so I fashion my face with a pair of fogged frames to prevent staring at the mistresses of distraction. And not because I'm sold, but to be afforded a better look, to see if I agree with what She's reading. Pipe dreams afloat, parading around a chaos of cobblestone, like a Clydesdale in Downtown STL. Free thinkers with kush for brains crowd a patient pair of ears talking gibberish with conviction, that even babies can't comprehend. Like said before, "It's a Maze," confused and dazed It's a bitch trying to find a way round it.

The Prequel Of "Us"......

Lost in the Heartbreak-Outback for far too long, the boomerang of steamy attraction has finally made its way back home. Two Indigenous Romantics from a nation of Love with Hearts the size of Africa, defy the lies about Love being overrated and non existing. Stubborn and mute to all the Heartless ideas and opinions of those who have no clue about how happiness should be colored inside. This rambling is swiftly ignored, like men who are told, "Talk to the Hand" by sassy ass Black Women. Focused on paying no mind toward demons inspired to feed on their lives, they've both fought the wolves with strong will to not be stripped of their souls and left with only lonely bones, as they tracked on thru the fierce foliage of dating disappointment. With many paths to choose from, somehow they ended up in the same direction, with the same direction. Both stumbling upon that Passionate place to populate those territories where affection cultivates. This is why juicy Romantic novels can't sit still on Barnes and Nobles bookshelves; because everyone Loves a story that ends well. Real close friends with the wind, but neither one of them could have ever sensed what was to blow in. Ears closely glued to the signs, but neither of them could have ever heard what was being said. Life to Life, how they live is something only time can tell. This is the prequel of "Us"......

Close Encounter Of The Love Kind

Vine, grape, then wine, they get better with time. Below Her window he stands with a guitar in hand, a one man band singing a pitchy, acoustic, slow version of "How much I Love You" and for no particular reason why, he just wants Her to be reminded of why. And perched upon Her window, Beautiful and shimmering in Her colorful splendor, She chirps with an Angelic voice, balancing out their harmony because She likes to back him up. From gloomy gray to bright blue white, Her smile re-paints his sky. And he is the ray of light that pierces thru Her life's darkest moments. Studied and prodded by experts, they are the future and the formula for Love. Together the seasons change; Winters become Sensual Summers and Rain Storms become Hugging Heat Waves. Inspired by their Romance the Universe politely grabs Space by its belt for a dazzling slow dance to comets ah crooning and asteroids ah whistling, rotating in reverse, dipping into a perfect pirouette, their Love is out of this world. Shaking up the norm of how the earth usually quakes, the ground now moves when they move because it too wants to follow in their footsteps. Vine, grape, then wine, they get better with time.