FIRE OF MOODS

I knew a dame, Whose heart was dear, Her love was fame, Her light was clear. She gave her heart, To that young man, Who made a start, That fits her plan. But soon it seems, For then he changed, He packed his things, And left estranged. She cried and wept, And felt so weak, On me she cleft, And soon fell sick. Her light was gone, Her love was dead, The deed was done, Her soul was red. She told her tale, To me all day, And then bewailed, Till she grew pale. Then came the nap, That stopped her shame, Right on my lap, Her rapture came. #El_Magnifico™

Earn ye first the respect of men... You are a god, Seeking compulsive worship from free souls. A conqueror, Gallivanting on the high horses of power to seek reverence. But until you earn ye first the respect of men, You are a labour in vain. For your temple is filled with furious bullets awaiting the call of a mad trigger. And horses shall soon grow weak and weary from your terrible ride. The false reverence you had, shall crack open before your very eyes, And let out its spear. For with wings shall it fly and bring you shame, A thousand fold. #El_Magnifico™

...he closed the door back/ T'was a spring back/ A sharp turn/ and a run/ as he's been chased by uniform men/ He got to a room tagged silicon den/ Was off the window and into the next building/ Changed his clothes and gallantly walked out of the building/ Into a coaster bus/ And once again El had leapt the dust// {3 weeks later} News fly around that three of foursome assassins/ Has been killed/ with Bullet the only one alive in custody/ Tortured to give out information/ About El's location/ El was finally caught/ Where he was drunk at a wine bottling company at Port Harcourt/ Was flown down to Lagos in a plane/ Only to escape at the airport through the subway to the train/ His posters everywhere "Most Wanted" with a billion dollar reward/ And an added incentive of a National honorary award/ {2 days later} El walked straight into the police station/ Unveiled his mask and gave himself up for legal action/ The almighty assassin was senten

Who can with old himself from thinking? For we are fruits of the tree of knowledge. There are confusions in understanding. If it wasn't so, Knowledge would not touch our spirits and leave it with seeds of different colours. This trouble is whole. It consumes seven different faces and becomes their redeemer in seven different ways, That each is broken by the breaking of his very dawn. And he loathes his brethren, For his eyes is blind to their own dawn And as such, he sees them as nights. Did I say, That this confusion in understanding has a name? How long shall the reward of our beliefs cast shadows upon us, And lead us to perish at the grave of divergence? For we are fruits of the tree of knowledge, And none can withhold himself from thinking. We should therefore hold our piece and peace it together, For we are all doctrines, Each and everyone. #El_Magnifico™

8:02Am May 3, 2033. Location: Killer smile Avenue. °°°°°°°°°° ...El Magnifico looking fab/ drops off a cab/ Close to the location/ of the town head coronation/ With a speak overall worn over a jibba/ To cover himself from suspicion of cloak and daggers/ Heading for the elevator/ to the top floor/ And with instruments well set/ Is waiting for the right time to cause international upset/ That the Nation may be aware of a group so dope/ As to take out a highly secured personality as a pope/ Looking through his binoculars he could clearly see/ The turn of events and the busy proceedings/ "Where was he?", for many hours he stared blindly/ For the role he had accepted so lightly/ Is gradually beginning to get frightening.../ At about 3:30Pm/ The pope showed up in a silver lined BM/ With the stage set, El had his finger/ Directly over the trigger/ Waiting for the impeding figure to put his hands down/ There was a click, a shoom, and a sudden uproar of Man

7:30pm May 1, 2033 Location: unknown. °°°°°°°°°° Four were seated at a table discussing matters arising/ Namely: "Scar", "Bullet", "Crank", and the boss known as "Poison"/ "Have you decided how he is to die?" Bullet harshly asking/ "Not yet, I waited for now", replied Poison/ "Let's try a cyanide injection/ as a silent infestation"/ But Bullet thinks otherwise of Crank's suggestion/ "Let's take him out with a strike to the forehead/ When he's making his speech at the coronation of the Town head"/ Scar's objective/ "That would be pointlessly destructive..." But after all said and done/ The conclusion was of Bullet's opinion/ A carefully calculated strike by a sniper/ Who has got the nerves to decipher/ And outwit the camera lens/ An assassin with keen murder sense/ So here was the question of million dollar bill/ "Which one of you is gonna take

The steppe beguiled, Unfriended by innocence, Renders powerless the seraphims, Within the inner citadel. The primordial whims, Engulfs the spirit, Impulses with unshaken strength, Charges in, in coaxion. Plain hues of tinted shades, Delights the spirit, Yielding unto the colourful disharmony, As assailing its walls. Berefted dignity, Misses its way, To converge with shame, The new eden pigmentation. #El_Magnifico™