MONUMENT BY WILLIAMS A.BELOVED

 

 

 

 

Along the sea shore, I took a book and a pen,

At the vent of the wave, I laid like a whore,

Songs that made me shed dripped from the crest in my chest ,

It  rang from the tales of memories, there I reminisced.

 

Memories of loved and unloved ones that can‘t be shattered,

The soft lips of his on my nape Or the soundtrack of my bed tape 

though they were touching and filthy stories of mine,

These memories can’t just past my mentation.

 

I laid like a mistress getting laid,

Life was a fantasy with what I had paid,

I wrote these scriptures like the revelation’s of John the apostle,

I sober for what I did and paid in this epistle,

Memories mesmerising, tantalising and paralysing.

 

The sea taught me how to live with no end ahead,

Always believing a day of relieve, waving like the waves of oceans,

Lust can’t have it all when you tell all the tales it entails,

In these monuments I avail the assumptions of doubt.


COINED FROM ANGLES THAT PARALYZED (A.T.P) ANTHOLOGY   

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Willymegawrite 

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RUN A WAY HOME BY; WILLIAMS A.BELOVED

A whole bottle of liquor I could drink
for nothing than to stop me think,
Even when the balls in my eyes wink
It means nothing more, than the blink,
All these just to make memories sink.

Was it how bad you made me paid
How you made me screamed when laid
Was it the love I had for you, I said
Or how you made my body your maid
and in my tender mind your love laid.

I can’t get pass all these days,
In my room thinking you have to stay
even if loving you would lead me down the hell way,
Every sacrifices, I am ready to pay,
Loving you is like a sin, it slays.

I hope a day you would run a way home,
The lust you build and call your Rome,
You run ways to deceit some
and make damsels feel safe under your dome,
I hope you find heaven when you come
because my abode will always be your safe home.

Back to my empty glass of wine
wishing you could completely be mine,
Picturing all the dirty whine
while smile cripples my face and my head spine,
Waving way too down the line,
Maybe when you’re back, I would be fine.

COINED FROM A BARD TOO BAD ANTHOLOGY

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Willymegawrite

TIME TALES BY WILLIAMS A.BELOVED

When you see a blurry image
or a skank scary figure,
And you couldn’t decipher what it ciphers,
The details it entails
Only time could narrate the tales.

When a tunnel upfront is dark
like the oak of an ark,
When you sit like a loner
and looked worried whether you would see the light,
Wait and let time tell the tales.

When an abstract object slit the nape of your throats
And you couldn’t play the tape
where the strings went wrong,
Where the lyrics of your act ripped off,
Precious time would tell the tales.

When the pictures on your walls aren’t vivid,
When your soul and body couldn’t bear to stay,
When eyes seemed malfunctioned
and useless to see the clearer pictures,
Time is the only element that can tell the tales.

 

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Willymegawrite

 

 

 

 

INCURABLE DEBT BY; WILLIAMS A.BELOVED

 

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I owe not any soul a dime for every truth or lies I told,
only my soul; not every chiming birds that leap behold,
Not every ass holes that snitched behind
and have not the zeal to spit their mind.

I owe my creator a good living and better life,
I owe not a damsel that chase the golds in my vault
and in her bizarre mind thinking she’s closer being my wife
until the windy time comes I could fulfill default.

I owe momma an apology; for every wavy stray strings I pulled
not you that never saw me coming when I was nulled,
Only her lullabies ignited memories not your miserable lyrics that sucks,
So, I owe you not a kiss in the ass because you own few bucks.

I owe the braves’ that gave me reason to race
and the faceless errand-ghost that gave me the grace,
I owe you all that laid at least a brick on the path to success
and to that very you that restrain my soul at duress.

COINED FROM  FROM A BARD TOO BAD ANTHOLOGY

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Willymegawrite

LOST IN LUST BY; WILLIAMS A.BELOVED

LOST IN LUST

Mama told me not to unfold my garments,
Men are men; hunting like Eagles after Hens,
She told me not to take a ransom for engagement,
All they want is the Cherry betwixt thighs.

Mother’s words were worthy but his were
mightily weaved, mother words were logical illusions
when he planted venomous words at the tip of my heart,
Mother be gone while I wander like wreath of clouds.

He sucked the lies mother told with his lips
gluing my tongue with his, smooching my hips.
Mother had lied the moment I got laid,
All that matters, matters not; all she said.

I knew lust worth more tangible than being lost,
I found out the mysteries behind her words:
The honey in the sugar she delivered,
and my cup of tea, I had lost in lust.

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Willymegawrite