Lyrics, Pen and Pad.

When God at first made man, Having a glass of blessings standing by; Let us (said he) pour on him all we can: Let the world's riches, which dispersed lie,                         Contract into a span.         So strength first made a way; The beauty flow'd, then wisdom, honor, pleasure: When almost all was out, God made a stay, Perceiving that alone of all his treasure         Rest in the bottom lay.         For if I should (said he) Bestow this jewel also on my creature, He would adore my gifts instead of me, And rest in Nature, not the God of Nature:         So both should losers be.         Yet let him keep the rest, But keep them with repining restlessness: Let him be rich and weary, that at least, If goodness lead him not, yet weariness         May toss him to my breast.   ...

Many, many years ago when I was twenty-three I was married to a widow who was pretty as could be This widow had a grown-up daughter who had hair of red My father fell in love with her and soon they too were wed This made my dad my son-in-law and really changed my life For now my daughter was my mother, 'cause she was my father's wife And to complicate the matter, even though it brought me joy I soon became the father of a bouncing baby boy My little baby then became a brother-in-law to dad And so became my uncle, though it made me very sad For if he were my uncle, then that also made him brother Of the widow's grownup daughter, who was of course my step-mother Father's wife then had a son who kept them on the run And he became my grandchild, for he was my daughter's son My wife is now my mother's mother and it makes me blue Because although she is my wife, she's my grandmother too Now if my wife is my grandmother, then I'm her grandchild And...

I never believed in dreaming, It never got me very far. I never believed that love could find me, Like an arrow through the heart. I never believed in miracles, Or building castles in the air. Not until that day I found you, Turned around and you were there. From the day you came, you gave me A whole new point of view. I've been touched by an angel, It's impossible, but true. I believe in you. I swear that forever from today, No one will ever take your place. I believe in you. And I believe our love will last always. I never believed in fairy tales, Tho sometimes I wish I could, I never believed that golden slippers Could ever find the perfect foot. I never believed in magic, Or that wishes could come true, But your very first kiss changed all this, Something only you could do. You made me a believer, You made me trust again, You showed there's a pot of gold, At every rainbow's end. Only love, sets you free, And if you serve to fate, ...

The first time I got my soft hands on a poem, God bless the Pope, it's on his birthday. I wish him with this... Very soft poem I have a thing I name hope. Having it always helps me cope. Any day, anywhere tho' I  lope With any man and his scope. Any time, any dime, I go dope. I am with a thing I call hope. With it, I scale anything and make the slope Any length, any breath I still cope Any height, any range, I feel dope. Rightly, with pen in my hand I feel like Alexander Pope. What is the Roman Catholic Church without the Pope? Who am I? How can I? Without my hope. Long live my hope. Long live FHYSX tha Pope. Happy Birthday, Adeolu Timothy, aka Pope. King Kyle

The breeze blows, The weather whitens, The leaves dry, The ground patched. The looks appear dead, It's only an eve before the life. *********************************** It darkens, And gets sleepy, A break From daily toiling, Back to base, Alone with thoughts, I need a soul, Who'll hear my thinking? *********************************** The quill, My companion, The only ear, That hears my tone. Loner I appear, Deep down a nova, So much to say, But right now it's over. *********************************** Well deserved, A night of sound sleeping. Toiled the day, A hustle for better living. Time to retreat, A reload for better ideation, Time to go, The deep keeps calling, Though asleep, The mind yet working. *********************************** Fhysx  © 2015

His birth foretold, By Esias in the Old, Through the scroll, The prophesy unfold. His birth lowly, Although He's glory. The Angels excited, Relays to the Shepherd. On hay He lays, His throne in a manger, His Crown renounced, To pay for the sinners. Through the virgin, He came untainted. Though divine, In flesh he dwelt. Hail Mary I hear, Joseph I salute. The sacrifice, The courage. The pregnancy, The birth, All for MY KING Halle... I chant, In celebration of MY KING, A Child is Born! The Prince of Peace! Fhysx  © 2015

Why cry over spilt milk, When God cries over spilt blood! Left our first love, For the pleasures of this world. Our sanctuaries now stadiums, We care less how it turns. Concerned with nails and lashes, While our mind is depraved. He took nails and lashes; We are making it nil. Preaching prosperity, Perpetual Pride and Persistent Persecution. The assignment left undone, Disciple the nations! We diet spiritually, When He promised daily bread. Left with Pulpits, Pews and Singers, THE TRUTH left behind. No life left, Back to our ex- He reaches out, To those still conscious. My arms are open wide, You'll always be My Bride. Fhysx  © 2015