S.T.U.D.D. Handsome Presents Song Book

By Nathurlon Munnerlyn

A book of poems, and songs by S.t.u.d.d. Handsome.

• Language: English
• Publisher: BookBaby
• Release date: Mar 3, 2015
• ISBN: 9781483549866

Book preview

God

Introduction

My Family of Time

My Family of time is a fortune of time related by silver traces.

Faces of many races.

Who cares, but who made it.

Shared it!

Visions of we, visions of me, related upon he.

See God said so, and God well knows.

What a Family of time does in time.

So be mindful, and enjoy my Family of time.

Till the end of time we can rewind.

My mind is consumed by our virtues our care for what is rare.

A world of color, stature, and valor.

More care than what is rare, but what is rare make us care.

My Family of time.

My time is fine with my Family of time.

Precious moments.

Oceans of currents, some torrents never dull moments.

Life experiences make life relevant.

Never purposeful; magical.

Very magical like creation, dedication.

Physics of physiology make my family of time very kind..

So rewind oneself, and hear thyself speak of my Family of time.

Notice our grind, notice our shine, and enjoy our time.

Some will be dust.

Some will be rust.

But the best is when we rest.

Settled like settlers from east, to west know what is best.

Us investing in our Family of time.

Boys, and Girls.

Men, and Women.

Ladies, and Gentleman.

My time spans centuries.

Kings, and Queens much room for thee.

As we make room for he.

God Challenges, and handles us from a distance.

Memories to earthly faculties.

Sentiments of he.

Universal properties equate what we be.

Luminous vitality, creative varieties.

Make we the mind of one.

Time with the Sun energy among what is song.

My Family of time sung.

Chapter one

TREKKING

Lunch Crowd Hype

The lunch crowd is a crowd that isn’t too loud, but is loud.

Maybe rowdy, or just moody,

Sun doesn’t shine when cloudy.

So the lunch crowd is potty.

What is the mood when the Moon reflects at night.

The lunch crowd is right.

See I see what the light is, and I see what wrong is, but I’m right.

Cause I’m one in the lunch crowd.

Move out of my way!

Know what I say!

I’m the lunch crowd around me you will be proud.

What can I be if I ain’t proud of thee.

The lunch crowd is me, and we is the lunch crowd.

Some figure that the lunch crowd ain’t important.

Some say we ain’t content, or confident.

I reflect my crowd.

What is your crowd?

Do you have Dinner, or Breakfast, or do you consider Brunch.

A move on a hunch.

A date is a date.

So what can we crowd?

The hour can be twelve, but we can dwell.

Make plans, make clans.

Move onto new lands, or move out less and still expand in your crowd.

The lunch is vital.

A chomp at life yo!

A time of delight folk.

Know what is your crowd.

My crowd is get on it early.

But not to early, because we can figure worth.

What is worth?

Well you figure my crowd is with vigor.

So who can match?

So who can catch up to what is an example of a hand at work?

Crowds don’t work, but a lunch crowd is a chirp.

A flinch at sweet.

A flinch at death.

We can charge a check, money, or plastic card.

See through the fog, because it is beyond.

It moved this morning, and changed the yawning.

So figure this crowd to be profound; like what is proud.

Cause we are the lunch crowd.

Can you catch my drift?

We can race a seven to reach heaven.

What is dusk, or dawn?

To make it unsurpassed calm.

Relate to a charm an arm reaching out.

What can a woman do about?

Make a way without much fuss, or cuss.

My take is a blush, a rub, a touch, a rush, a crush.

Flushed emotions make a equation, a relation, a destination.

My occupation is a sensation, a writing pulsation.

A quirk of intelligence.

My intelligence is my reflectiveness.

Direction is inspirational.

Vocational matters is water under a tree.

So what makes us glee.

Togetherness upon bliss.

My crowd is small.

My crowd is tall.

My crowd isn’t a stall.

My crowd doesn’t appall.

So how can we become, or what is the sense of one?

When the crowd is of a call.

Autumn is Fall, and Winter is a crystal ball.

Spring is a sprawl.

Summer is a crawl dragging my words on the floor.

So who can hear my call.

My match made in the sky.

My mind is high, and my time is a sigh.

Can you see me in my crowd?

My pout for comfort.

My route for clout.

Power beyond power.

My hour consumes energy, and the energy is heart relating.

Escapade in remembrance.

A notion of a caption.

A picturesque expression.

Not a recession of emotional expression.

My face is eclectic, reflective of my perception.

Conceptive thought of air.

Where my breath relates care.

Never rare unless undesired.

But a desire delegates an empire.

Mountain of bounties my crowd; crowds around me, and then dissimilates like mist in a lake.

I rake leaves as I partake.

And I rake memories I relate.

So what is fake?

A grump who yells bait.

Worms and fishes.

I ask for another dish, but it is the same fish.

So my crowd wants something else.

I say yummy, as a chum.

A friend who loves the Rum.

One drink, two drinks.

I think