There is no one born ugly
Pick up a bronzer and brush,
And kindly remodel yourself.
If your hairs, are dark and long,
Cut it, as short as you want,
Give yourself, a desired rebirth.
Dye black blonde and blonde to dark,
We are all humans made for lack,
Imperfection is a gene we all share.
Attach some treads or get it wigged
If the hairs, are so low and bald,
Beauty is all about reflection.
Shave and redraw, lashes and lids,
These are parts of sweet seduction
Created by God, for our optimization.
Gloss has its own reflections and luck
Use a lipstick; it attracts a poke,
At rebirth, we all can emulate God.
I have a book, I read and look
On each page is same pretty face
Painted with lost traces of grace.
Life and death; recommend this book,
On each page is a face of a mother,
Looking emotional, sad and bitter.
On each page, is a surprising spitfire,
Toothless fly, turned into a barracuda;
Attacking all her feirced rival.
On each page, her lips does hiss
To failed promises and dried kiss;
Withered are roses around her hips.
On each page, is also a pot of desire
A new hope, pen and also an eraser
To wipe and rewrite the next chapter.
You are a black apple
On a familiar ground;
Renewing all the time.
Your charming sight,
As a bright cloak of light
Strengthens my cord, by God.
You are a ripe fruit on a tree,
The black apple of my eyes
That falls not far from me.
You drag me closer to hay,
Your nutrients day by day,
Surely keeps the doctors away.
You are boneless like a fillet,
A pretty sweet forbidden fruit,
I shall eat; over and over again.
I recall, years not far, not near,
From behind, I stopped and stare.
At a sweet sight then in nostalgic,
An African, simple like a frypan.
On sight, my boldness disappear,
She cat-walked for my eyes to dare.
Her waist caused a jam on traffic,
Her aura comes with a cooling fan.
She is a fantasy in my emotional race,
A rare, phenomenal flawless Angel.
A pretty black apple, sweet and tasty,
An attraction more forceful than gravity.
Her hairs shone sun on my dark face,
She’s an attractive goddess thick as gel.
From behind, I approached my curiosity,
For if she’s a sin: heaven would be empty.
I once had a painting
Giga-shades of adoring;
In a familiar surrounding…
Scrawling and crawling,
It was an hallmark glory
Of my sweet untold story;
In the years, I owned a lorry…
She was devil cute, but holy.
My crayons couldn’t surpass,
Her beauty wasn’t in disguise;
In the bittersweet of my past…
She was an art, a lady of class.
Sweet pretty face, with lashes,
Dark hairs, black to thickness;
In absence, was homesickness…
All boys longed for her fineness.
She is a diva, none can harass,
Well configured as a classic lass;
Innocent child, a righteous pass
She was like a visible colorless gas.
An uncommon beauty in class
Her fineness breaths new life
In nostalgia, she had hot sparks
That unfroze my ice-cold heart.
The best thing
Is as fine as sin;
Behind the glass
Is a fantastic glance.
I wish to canvass
For her bee frass;
Behind the glass,
Ferried sugar bypass…
I made plans;
Behind the glass
I got a brass;
From the bullets
Behind the glass
Is a lady of class.
Back in time, during our school days
We were classmates and even seatmates
You were so bright like the beam of rays;
And your beauty engraved my brain…
Best of the bests, you could right a wrong
Our friendship was everday, ever so strong
Unlike an uncoated iron untrusted in salt
Mysteriously, we grew refusing to rust…
When our classes were in session,
I hardly could even pay attention
Your beautiful imagery I saw and focused
Reflecting upon the wall and class board…
With my pen and breaking pencils
I drew roses and wrote you letters
So many kind words, at the end of it
I wrote in disguise; yours sincerely pest…
Each day you read from the ghosty pest
You told me how kind and sweet he was
Often he even sent you bouquet of roses
I smiled, while we both watered it to grow.
Every other day, I wrote a love poem
To you as pest; although I never meant
To be a perpetrator nor anonymous,
But, I wasn’t bold enough to tell you…
Trust me, it broke my heart you loved,
The other me; texting pest and telling me
I wondered why you never figured out,
The twist and turn of my swivel chair….
Tears burned through my hazy eyes
I never meant to be the daily heist
I often wish I could erase every ink
But I feared, lossing a seatmate and friend.