I’m spiky and proud, a fruit with a flair, but people smell me and dive for fresh air. I taste like dessert, but reek like a crime, a feast or a fart, who’s to say?

King am I of any land I lay. My rule helps all in some way. My fiefs trash, food, and drink. I suffer no fools my fruit offers Nirvana or Doom. My hunger vast with death my succor. My feast done, my heir is cast to winds violent or fair. What am I?

I buzz in kitchens, quick to tease, I lift you high above the seas. I guard your pants with subtle grace, And reel in fish with silken lace.

Red, blue, or gold, my colors you may know. If you don't, that's ok, you'll enjoy me anyway. What am I?

I carry no weapons, yet break through the stone, patient as time, I carve on my own. You’ll find me in valleys, in canyons I speak. Soft on the surface, my power runs deep. I mirror the sky and swallow the rain; a giver of life, now tell me my name.