When I see the face of my maker here
I’ve never seen a more beautiful thing
My maker is not God nor is it fear
Fear is just the outcome and the offspring
So far gone are the values of our men
Fighting in the names of Gods expired
Crying for the right to love so long dead
On shaking ground but argued required
You’ll see the face of your maker and weep
When recognized by your own scarring heart
If eyes open to spot that bloodied creep
A maker’s face may close both from the start
Your matching face can only seem to choose
Decide if he’s the maker or are you

The hardships of a man are his silent battles –
“you ought to open up more,” which opens
his worth to being diminished.

We only cry when the world is asleep, painting
smiles on our faces to render our outer walls
somewhat pleasing to your gaze.  

We fight private wars, striving to shield those
we love from the fallout – yet the scars we bear
are somehow unsightly in your view.

We’ll conform to your contradictions, offering
our utmost to project an image of strength for
the women, while our brothers are the only ones  
who truly understand our weaknesses.  

The hardships of a man are his silent battles –
and it is only his fellow men who can truly
witness their tears.

Welcome to the dawn of a new age
Open up the book turn the page
Excel to a higher degree
Understand the evolution of humanity
Back on track showing I don't lack
Doing what I do to make you react
Lets take a trip through my mind
A poetic M.A.N is what you find
Who has the answers?
Let's ask the questions
It is as if no one is even paying attention
To money which was created by man
It separates people
Are you starting to understand?
It's a trap set by death it wont stop
Till we breath our last breath
Hmm that's right!!
Not even death is free
"Money" is the maker of poverty
Overpopulation, segregation a messed up nation
Puts us on a path of mass annihilation
Wartime, see the battles rage on
Is it hatred
Or a politicians song?
Time and space
The final frontiers
Bombs explode people run in fear
Cultures wiped out to the future they are unknown
Aliens from space invade our home
Pledge allegiance to a flag
Whatever may wave which ever they have
Science is it fiction or fact?
Sometimes it is hard to believe all that
Who will do it?
Who will find the answers?
Prophets fall but not from cancer
GOD? Thee almighty one
Spoke to us on earth through his son
Whether you agree or disagree
The intention was to save humanity
Who will stand up?
Who will be the one?
To bring about change without firing a gun?
Every generation builds off the back of the last
Truths ignored dooms us to repeat our past..

Feet firm on earth,
still chasing dreams
in a world now his own.

Sweat spills from strong pores,
forging currents of futures
he now shapes.

Tight embraces,
arms steady and sure,
a father’s pride made strong.

Wood and leather,
worked to tough threads—
faith stitched into his resolve.

Grass stains on knees,
still bending the world
to his will,
moved by purpose.

Anthems of hope
rise in his voice,
lifting his father’s soul
to love’s high planes.

The quiet secrets
of love and compassion,
once hidden by modesty,
are now lived out loud.

He follows his path
through shifting fields,
where once slick frogs slipped
through eager hands—

A world he builds,
a world he claims,
a world his father
now trusts to his hands.

Every splash of ink,
Every drag of this pen.

Is another gift in the face of common man,
An honor that is art to the human soul.

For if not for this music,
Spirits would grow old, crumbling in the cold.