I believe In You
I believe in you and all the things you can do
Out of the misery you grew
Dark and weary nights were a part of you,
But can I help you chase away the blues.
Thereís a wall of solitude that surrounds you
But Iím willing to walk through and show you a world so beautiful
If only you could reach out to love that is so pure and true
Things are not always good
But Iíll put you in the right mood,
Help you walk in the hood
Give you nice clothes and food
For I fathered you
If only you new how much I have laid out for you
How much I have entrusted in you
youíd believe in your self coz I believe in you
Passion Clouds Wit
By Tapiwa Chiname
It hits me at dawn and in the morning.
It hits me at sunset and at night.
It finally dawns on me that passion clouds wit.
For mine desire for thee made me blind to all else.
So thin is the line between love and hate, passion and loathing, as it is so thin yet so powerful a veneer between the horrors of reality and the, safe, blissful, fertile, ignorant, even imaginative, elusive world.
It hits me that passion for thee, clouded the dictates of mine conciense.
The misgiven heart, persuaded the reasoning intelligence, to savour a derelict engagement. A slave of mine passion I was exuding love where none was reciprocated.
All the smile, all the laughter, yet none of the affection.
All the intimacy, the passion feigned, continued.
Hands that caress mechanically yet, none of the warmth exuded.
Against the vivid inclinations of the brain I went, enchanted by an elusive love.
For the malignant fig leaf covering the naked jaws of the lioness was as my wit, clouded.
Frantically I did endeavour to hold in unison, a precious though broken egg in mine widened fingers poor with illusioned hope, the sticky fluid slipping through.
How I wish thine and thy paths never were doomed to junction, for it was thence that mine wit conceded against thy orchestrated passion.
Like my yellowed fingers, my soul bleeds a perennial flow, the vitality oozing from mine heart as contagion, sets in.
It hits me again, thy heart, was kept still attending on thee when mine mounted structureless figments of thine illusioned imagination. It hits me, passion clouds wit.
The Old Story
By Paris Oíryan
I watch the raindrops fall from the sky
I feel the soft breeze bow by
My mind is now at peace
And instantly my lips long for our kiss
My heart yearns for yours
And this is how the old story goes
I fell in love with you the second our eyes locked
You knew what I felt
I knew what your heart held
You touched me emotionally
You were always with me spiritually
I thought of you every night
Sounds crazy but it felt right
The old story has turned into a historyWhy I fail to figure why you are not here remains a mystery
But the old story lives on
And even though I mourn
I know it wont be for long
Because what I feel is so strong
It just cant end like this
Those eyes send a hidden message to me
As you hold my gaze I feel butterflies in my stomach
When you look into my eyes you seem to read my mind
You seem to see everything in my heart
Those eyes are dangerously sharp
When you look at me you seem to undress me
I can see the fire the passion in them
As you caress my lips with your steady gaze
As you roam freely over my body with your eyes exploring every curve
There is magic in your eyes
Something about them that is mystique
Baby you seem to know how to make me weak
You seem to know how to knock the breath out of me
You seem to know exactly what I want
Every time you look into my eyes
Itís your gaze that makes me lose control
Your eyes tell of the passion