Cost Rocks Space

Three twenty two,
Eighth of the Tenth
Space be
the place of plenty,

His holy grace,
by which we
define our space.

What time
did you you wake?
Did you
keep note
of the time conscious spake.

I was,
the first to be born.

It made me the odd one,
bald hair and all.

Number three,
cursed kissed.
A blessed time,
or the devils dickins.

Forever gods,
been trying to sort me out.
Show me the fact,
that four has to shout.

Stand up,
shout out.
That’s where you should start,
But for number three that stories run out.

Full of regrets,
of the words not found.
The misrepresented ambition,
of wasting that crown.

Thirty three,
holes in fact.
The anti-Christ,
should have intact.

more acronyms,
to poke a stick at.

But essentially,
they’ll want no grief.
No one yelling loudly,
or demanding their a thief.

No threats
no warnings
no danger signs.
No red flag disasters,
telling why with rhymes.

When things are slow,
I practice grateful,
Penance for problems,
My ancestors cradle.

I let them go,
practice forgiveness.
Ensure there’s no replay,
of the pain that repeatable.

Here is one,
I got this morning.
When your parents tell you,
that your being adorable.

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