“I was a glittering sea waving at me, like a child smiling in his father’s lap, the waves lapse every time the sea sees the child in me!”

Add the frozen dreams, to the passionate flavor, in you and there you are, having the best of you!

A narrative told in the infinite galaxy of colors that melt into white and, brushstrokes bourne upon land who are titled ‘human beings’.

Nothing was trying to hurt me, except my own thoughts, which felt like needles, trying to stitch tears within my eyes.

Time stops for the heart to tick-tock!

Petals and thorns grew hand in hand, realizing themselves, the oneness in them didn’t seem afar!

Santa sobs recalling December’s decor, navigating joys volcano, overcoming dawns of insomnia, waking the snowflakes to find, yearlong sleep, which delightfulness sneaks!

My love is like a trigonometry problem simplified by my heart’s mint green genies, the broken being in me sings a million epiphanies, my life is but colors spilled in polaroids of caring butterflies.

The glass is broken into particles that now accept themselves as art.

Thoughts in bottles battled and shattered the glass of their containers, which floated in the ocean like a sun made of diamonds.

The spikes of the cactus which grows in my heart, are alike the water lilies that only bloom in the dark.

The sound of wind chimes, soothing my mind, removing all the frames of my mind, takes me straight away, to the depth, depth of my mind!

The day I know who I am, why and how is known of me, I will be me, Me: free from thorns and petals that go round and round, in heads and heels, and would reveal me, me indeed!

My heart isn’t a song of silver and gold, it holds a million graves of solitary souls.

Prohibited from plucking my bluebell emotions, my non-existent existence keeps kindling the aroma of my love.

Tied to worldly illusions, our sight is but a painted vision.

Break me, Break me, Break me until the broken cells of my mind become the glitter of your eyes! My shattered glass neurons have become your tears now.

If men found out how to give birth to children they’ll never propose again.

Teach you children poetry; it opens the mind, lends grace to wisdom and makes the heroic virtues hereditary.

Racism is a form of hate. We pass it on to our young people. When we do that, we are robbing children of their innocence.

This is the culture your raising your kids in, don’t be suprised when it blows up in your face.

Kids come into the world with clean hearts, fresh starts.

The greatest legacy we can leave our children is happy memories.

I was seeing the effects of what music can do — how it can be healing and bring people joy, but on the flip side, there was this ugliness. I saw the greed and the He-Mans that were willing to f*ck over children.

In my travels all over the world, I have come to realize that what distinguishes one child from another is not ability, but access. Access to education, access to opportunity, access to love.