[12/4, 2:06 AM] 🅿araⓂind: SACRED SIN.

A seemingly sacred sin
by the poetic assassin.
A perfect murder...
the police need not bother.

I will plead guilty;
a guilt not filthy.
An apparent assassination;
crime armed with satisfaction.

The beauty of a killing;
my hands are still willing.
A lynching without blood;
poetic ink in floods.

Dead pens in piles;
their corpses will make you smile.
My jotter is the slaughter slab;
the consistency of poetic jabs.

An articulate assassin;
the supreme creativity of sin.
A killing that brings hope;
with my pens, you'll cope.

sharpiro 2017
[12/4, 2:09 AM] 🅿araⓂind: Nebechi Samuel Chinonso

A FRIEND IN NEED.
Shut doors;
he's basically poor.
Life without quality;
the Persistence of pity.
Poisoned by penury;
poverty armed with fury.
Every hope seems lost;
a metallic prey to rust.
Hacked by hunger;
can't cope any longer.
Assassinated hope;
she dangles on a rope.
You're his only neighbour.
The only one to open the door.
Help a brother in need...
poverty makes the heart bleed.
Like a beach encroaches a land,
please stretch a helping hand.
Give out a gorgeous gesture.
Help a victim of torture.
Sharpie 2017

August 28 at 10:22pm · Public
[12/4, 2:10 AM] 🅿araⓂind: A SECRET.
Let it remain a secret.
Keep it from the street.
My obvious weakness;
you are the only witness.
Your absence in a day
makes me lose my way.
Without you I'm lost;
I fade away like the dust.
Your persistent presence
like words in a sentence,
remains my saving grace...
anxiety can be traced.
To your love, I'm a slave;
but with you I'm forever safe.
I want to grow old with you;
I'm stuck on you like glue.
Don't ever leave my side.
I'm the sea, you're the tide.
Like a lightning and the thunder;
no one can put an asunder.
Sharpie writes

sharpiro 2017
[12/4, 2:11 AM] 🅿araⓂind: POVERTY ON THE PROWL.
Thirsty throat.
Torn coat.
Empty stomach.
The definition of lack.
An epitome of scarcity.
Pity reigns in every city.
Prowl of poverty...
as demanding as puberty.
Desperate diseases.
Health hacked into pieces.
Sorrow sings with pride.
Her happiness she can't hide.
Joy has become a ghost...
tears can't help but boast.
The picture of a nation.
Pathetic from every indication.
Sharpie writes