20/30

How many poems can one make about rain?
the soft drops echo my name
reflecting personality as puddles accumulate but never duplicate

How many poems can one make about the life?
"the dead don't talk," but we'll honor a life
consumed by lies, pain and destruction

How many poems can one make about drugs?
the fix, a hit, a smack, or a pull
scabs, scars, blood, sweat, discolored flesh and salty vanity

How many poems can one make about sex?
shallow and hollow as it tastes, blank stare in the face
careless moans and heartless tones, initiated from late night conversations on the phone

How many poems can one make about the world?
street living, poverty, children without a dwelling
we can keep telling everyone, yet slumdogs pack populations... change takes action

How many lines can one make about love?
its the source of life, and the end if treated improperly... its volatile
Love's beauty and enrichment will fill pages for ages

How many poems can I make before I expire?
The pen won't retire, but my entire will to breathe will diminish
when my soul, mind and heart will be replenished on the crossover (transcendence)

How many poems will it be until the end of our existence?
our consistent standard of living is on par with destruction
the corruption we bring in the cycle of life makes me think of one word: parasite

How many poems will I write until I receive money,
that isn't immediately removed from my hand, its twisted creation has robbed innocence!
Diluted bonds, broken relations... money has circumcised our nation

How many poems will it take until I have her heart?
As many as it takes; she has my undivided attention
Her heart mentions love, whispers serenity, screams my name and recites poetry in my sleep.