‘Obviate,

‘Obviate,

Through the winds I follow my stream

as I close my eyes and “feel” the soft breeze

I remain calm with the beauty in my dream.

To hear my thoughts fall down from the sky

As I whisper with my lips for a scream.

“I can not talk,

I can not think,

I can not pray,

as I capre diem.”

He who hears my word

therefore all grant my moon

as I begin my search within my heartbeat tune.

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‘vehemence,

‘vehemence,

I’m one of the few in a madding crowd,

as they pour their eyes on me

I shake my head out within the cloud.

To not trust me by sight, but feel the relent

of sacred night.

As I speak not for al;

I have my words not spoken loud.

For this I’m not proud.

You see, the agony that I feel from within

has me cornered in frighten spring.

For I am not with the few

I scream with my soul for you to bow

as I am less I have my thoughts avowed.

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‘Deviate,

‘Deviate,

When time holds up a mirror to my face.

I seek my own enemy;

“As I get not to see I feel this honesty of disgrace.”

When the feel of deception beholds me,

I foul my heart;

“as there was no mere play at place.”

It’s oddly satisfying to know what is not.

To walk this path down by my chase.

I run towards myself at ease,

as I want to follow my stream to earth.

This has not been me to replace.

As I start from the beginning,

To rise one step;

“I seek my inner grace.”

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‘Pronoid,

‘Pronoid,

‘Oh hear me dream and wander around you

as you lay your beauty on me to see.’

To open my garden of secrets,

to show you my spirit,

to not cry about the truth.

I found my lashing sky of the blue.

‘Oh hear me fall in distance

as I rise my soul for me to pursue.’

I’m not less,

I’m not more,

I’m in between for a greater déjà vu.

‘Oh hear me roar my brawl

as I stand tall for a wider view.’

You see,

you feel,

you are my world that I belong to.

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‘dans ma mémoire;

‘dans ma mémoire;

Have I (not) chosen death?

To walk down the road alone

while playing catch with my last breath.

To see me suffer in pain

as blood pours down

I will stand tall to the last drain.

Frames of the past with glimpse of hope.

In your eyes I saw your last wish;

“For me to fall and be caught by your rope.”

To wonder about “What if?”

I walk my last walk,

with my eyes closed I have a last sniff.

Heart pounding faster,

losing my breath,

as deafening as it sounds;

“To slaughter my soul in one piece”

I ask…

for…Me

Pastor.

By the rush of this disaster.

https://jojoalwaealy.com/writers-history/

‘retribution,

‘retribution,

In a time far away I was in search for her beauty to lay.

The mystery she sought was upon us,

as she leans on to my shoulders to portray.

(“Say not there be adulterers in Heaven.”)

Lift my heart for you to cry on,

as I regret my promise not in one day.

Seek my smile for you to belong,

for I have given you the inner child’s play.

Rest my soul for you to depend on,

take me away from misery as fools speak in cliché.

Seek the words from my lips,

as I am the last speaker to obey.

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‘Valorous,

‘Valorous,

In vibrant of the night I close my eyes,

As afraid as I am I hear your voice for a moment

to only hear words of lies.

It was like a symphony,

symphony of cries.

I seek the moon’s light for me to guide

In the night by the wise.

Wandering soul passing through my mind

for an another story to rise.

A chase for their melody

to the buzzing sound of flies.

I Hear no more less, before I do;

I Coarse my roaring into the skies!

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‘Mudita,

‘Mudita,

“Death” my nemesis to be. I Shall not give you my dissenting.

For I’m a star upcoming; you see,

you heard my astrology within the silence

from far away to unrelenting.

See us bright and see us as your guide to be;

and I shall plead my honour for all to flee,

from a story of words beginning from the tree,

to swim, to follow the stream and to smell the sea,

For I share this beauty with thee.

To whittle with my tongue,

honesty has spoken to the young.

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‘Meraki,

‘Meraki,

I Once had a story to tell, from a whisperer to a falling hell.

Should you believe that I was a man,

to begin with a hidden spell,

to strongly believe there was more to brief?

A Man in search for his path to find,

(I Was my own thief.)

To care? For I have found my narrow alley.

To take? You have my spoken allay, such relief.

A Duty from shoulders to fall,

a wisdom stronger by all,

the answer that started my story with a crawl.

I Have a chance to start over,

(For a do-over)

with a new beginning like rising four-clover.

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