When I first heard of steemit and how rewarding it is, I stopped and thought about it for quite some time; I wasn't really a fan of networking (still not a fan) and I never believed in creating traffic

Image source: Hi dearest, I've got something to tell you It's been eating deep into my brain But my lips are shy They chew my thoughts away when my eyes catches you My ego has travelled miles away to you

Image source: If I could see who you'd be If I could prophesy to my dreams I'd stop these pains I'd let these confusions be I'd create a slender fairy These visions I see are vague The arms do not match

It was 2pm on Wednesday when I decided to check on my mailbox for an update on the contract I was expecting. I had given up hopes for two days since nothing was forthcoming but for righteousness sake I

Before I go into answering this very vital question "who is Princewill?" let me first introduce the series that inspired it. Six days ago I was going through my feed when I saw a post by

Image source: One sweet day, Kate greened my company as she requested for a walk down the streets with our hands in agreement. All went smoothly until we were encircled by four hefty guys. "so this

Well, steemit didn't turn out to be what I heard it was; bots only making it for people with less creative write ups and posts seen by humans but very well neglected! Even those that clamour for a serene

For many years now Christianity has had various branches (different methods of serving God, different doctrines, etc) and has, in itself, brought up various arguments concerning which doctrine is right,

Well, I'm still a minnow on steemit and since I joined I've not been able to add a cent to any post whenever I upvote it. I thought having steem up to a cent would help but that doesn't seem to be the

How often do you see a life lay itself down? For a stranger For an unbeliever Yet also for life whose dirt is so renowned? He saw me swim in pains of sin I loved to leave but it was not so cheap So I

The way ladies use phonetics, especially those you've not met before, you'd think the author of the book "the beautiful ones are not yet born" wasn't sane when he wrote the book. Follow me on

On a Sunday evening when all was old I took a trek down the caves of the Irvings There I found darkness being sold It was like a mime among talking kings My steps were ordered by icy prints It was all

Warning: this story is fictional and all names depict the choice of the author not based on the personality of any person(s) out there. Thanks On one of my tours with Joseph to Kindarlands in the plains

I wake all to your frame every morning Looking and wishing as my heart tears down mourning This could be it The love mama once told me about In the congress of my friends I smile but I know within me my

She will be back! Trust me; she will When her ass is tired of the barren woods She will be back When she zooms my reflection in tears She will be back When her eyes sees the future She will be back She

Bullets flying from the East Killing and ending Hacking and spreading Lifting our blood pumps Rumours of our desolation Singing and dancing Growing and spreading Keeping our feet on its toes Eyes watching

In my travels to the morrow I saw the airs burning away They were free but flesh loved it no more It was a state of peace; races had same piece Religions and cultures went the same way All were bones Skeletons

My world became a desert As I walked down the streets mapped out with crooked lines Arrowing my thoughts to the wind; from deep in my heart Image source: My world opened up to tears Drowned in shackles

Well, as usual for days of occasions in this part of the world, I got up to waves of murmurs from ladies and women of the kitchen and trust me everywhere was well occupied. After stretching out the fogs

In a world where all is yeah and so That's where I want to go All night I dream it All day I stream it My illusions once told me of a place Maybe they lied; maybe I'm out of trace But I see it In foggy