Bryan De Poet

Angels! ! !
Pristine they are,
Angels are our aegis.
Angels are our confidants,
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For a record,
A best friend covers your past from floating to the present life!
Though we also have,
Next-door friends.
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Journalism!
My gold dream,
So out competing it's.
Sighted by a crowd.
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Some memoirs are just hard to erase because they are sorrow,
That cold morning in December last year!
When I peeked through the window,
And I unsealed my lungs to breathe in
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Pessimists call Maths, abyss of a subject,
A subject invented to detest their brains,
A subject of arithmetical errors,
Errors, that need a heap of stint to complete the puzzle.
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Jesus was born to Virgin Mary 2000 years ago,
And his legacy dwells to date.
Hey yes, let's sing for the birth of Jesus.
I said, hey yes let's sing for the birth of Emmanuel,
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A kiss from an angel, is brief.
A kiss from a frog, is dirty,
Kissed by an army of frogs,
Thee is as unclean as sin.
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I was strolling through the rich coast on a Sunday evening,
No doubt, I had glanced at beautiful Enid,
I have to accede; your face, all, of you, is incredible, pristine and attractive.
Through the trials, I was transfixed,
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Alicia altered my life attachments!
All I say, all I see, all just happen!
Errors exist in English!
Emotive enable enthusiasts explore!
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Look at me, I'm a 25 year trendy maker!
I feature a brand new me, at present!
Look at me, and Read through my transition,
I wear George and shave jeans,
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I smile, to dispense out the rage in my soggy heart!
Most folks smile, if they're dwelling in cloud nine.
I will smile, when I get that kiss from my child hood crush,
Like Bow Wow did from Tyra Banks.
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I'm so cheerful that I'm finally conferencing about, my fantasy,
It might seem so abstruse,
But this fantasy, I'm about to relate to you is just too much,
I'm despondent when I wet dream in my bed,
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Walls invade privacy of badmouths!
Walls articulate,
Wandering how they articulate?
Echoes! Echoes! Echoes! Ears! Ears! Ears!
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Tantamount Andrea,
Your beauty crumbles my veins and compels me to whisper to desire.
My heart blossoms as the fantasizes stir to my brains,
Call it desire, bonny or may be, mirage.
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