Poem: Exhausted

 Tiredness doesn't cover it.
I follow the trails of life that lay ahead of me
because what else can I do
I am too tired of arguing
and sick of trying with you.

You take me to a point of exhaustion
one that fills my everyday
I can't explain my feeling more than
through the word 'ok'

I see in your looks and in your eyes
I can tell you want me to break
but I am past the point of breaking
so instead i just lay...

Too tired to more too tired to think too tired to explain
explain the weight of tiredness on my heart while you lay unfazed
so instead I give in to the tiredness and just hope that you'll have the decency

to stay away.

Poem: Peter Pan Syndrome

I don't want to grow up.
I mean why would I want to?
You're telling me to become you...
Adults trapped under control
and failing to break the mould.


Why would I want to grow up?
I can't see why I would to accept
all the finanical problems and debt
that are thrown at you as a prison sentence
for you ever daring to educate your senses.

I can't be boxed and confined
because I refuse to be labelled and undermined
I don't want to face the truth and see
that everyone you trust is so ready to leave.

I know it's unreasonable but surely you know
that you preferred your own life 20 years ago.
When the best nights would never seem to end
and with liberty you would spend
with no understanding of the value of money
because after all your biggest worry was Winnie and his honey.

Sometimes I think it's life playing a twisted joke 
and taking one large dump on all it's folk.
But then I realise that as I grow
despite what I get to see and know
of all the ugly scenes and words 
there are places to which I am sown. 

Sown to an earthly melody of beats
that can be created with the sound of ones feet
that can transform the mountain into a sea of dreams

and thus making everything more beautiful than it seems. 

Poem: Lies Are A Child's Best Friend

 I'm not a child anymore.

I know the truth about father christmas.
I know the truth about life.
I know the truth about people.

I know that nobody is perfect.
I know that people know that nobody is perfect
Yet, I know that we still strive to be perfect.

I'm not a child anymore.

So if you're going to lie,
at least do it right.
Don't try and get out of it now,
because I won't hear  you out.

I know that nobody's perfect.
That's why I knew when we first met
and you told me you were perfect
that you were a liar all along.

I thought I told you... I'm not a child anymore.

Poem: I Need You

There aren't many times when I think I HAVE to write a poem or I NEED to write a poem but this was one of those times when I just HAD to get to a pen and some paper asap...

I need you here
to make me see so much
and to let me know
that this darkness will fade
and soon beauty will come
through the light in your eyes.

I need you to tell me
the words that you know
so well and you have
said so many times
which reassure me
from myself.

I need you by my side
so that I can remember
that even though I have seen
the evil in the world
and the hatred in the hearts
of so many
that there are
good
kind
and loving people
still alive.

But you see, I don't know
who you are?
or where you are?
or why you are hiding from me?
I just know that I need you right now
and you are no where to be seen.

Poem: The Ghost of Music

Don't get me wrong, I do like lots of music that is currently made but this poem is just about the anger I feel about some of the other stuff that is also being made after I stumbled across a particular song/artist on TV *which shall remain nameless* and I just couldn't believe what I was watching and made me question what happened...

What happened?

What happened to the times when music made you think.
When lyrics questioned what was known.
When hip-hop was underground
and the pop wasn't in sync
with what made money
but instead spoke of what it meant
to be human.

You see,
it seems the more I listen to radio,
the less human I hear.
The voices that are thrusted at me,
don't seem to be clear.
I hear machines and automated voices,
telling me about their silly choices.
Making money from nonsense,
because they please the consensus.

There was a time:
when blues made you move,
Soul made you feel,
Pop made you smile,
Hip-hop made you hope.

Music helped you live. 

Now, music is a ghost
a ghost that floats into our minds
changing our expectations
and controlling what what we demand.
A spirit that can no longer heal us
so instead makes us stop feeling.
A ghost of what music once was
and a wash of what music now is.

Poem: Somewhere In London

Somewhere in London,
I walk the streets.
I keep my head down,
without an eye to meet.
I hear parts of stories,
and hear fragments of lives.
I watch people stumble,
whilst others cry.
Each to their own,
yet each to the whole.
Somewhere here in London.

Somewhere in London,
I peak open my eyes,
whilst figures rush by.
Nobody stumbles,
but everyone rushes.
Purpose in their step,
beauty around their head.
With lots around to admire,
but where there's smoke there's fire.
Somewhere here in London.

Somewhere in London,
I feel the lights dim,
and watch other out on a whim.
Feel the buzzing of the crowd,
and a deafening sound.
So many people to be listened to,
but so little patience given by you.
Somewhere here in London.

Somewhere in London,
a mother cries for her baby,
a car drives by lazily,
a kind heart acts bravely,
a child acts playfully,
a begger prays 'save me',
and others walk past blindly. 
Somewhere here in London.

Poem: Africa's Dream

I have a dream, that one day you'll see me.
Not look through me,
but truly see me.
Maybe then you will realise that I am
both strong and fragile.

I have a dream,
that one day you'll feel me.
Not carry on hurting me,
but truly feel my pain.
Maybe then you will stop thinking of
ways to destroy my beauty.

I have a dream,
that one day you'll hear me.
Not carry on muffling my cries,
but truly hear my words.

Maybe then you will realise,
that I am the original,
I am the true land of dreams,
that I am Africa.