I ask myself, what am I doing with my life? No, don’t worry, I’m not going to end it foolish to think one can escape by the knife dotted lines of ink where the pen hits they join together to make words so strong sticks and stones break bones, but words Words are deadly. Kill, maim and harm psychologically lie there dying on the curb clutch my heart, those words, those words hit so deep by painful uttering, mutterings under my breath cursing and hurting regretting using my tongue so freely now it will land me in hell if I don’t stop, how could I possibly speak so ill to my mother she struggled...

Peer through my curtain up at the dark sky expecting stars but only clouds up high It’s hard to sleep as the blackness swallows lying awake wondering if I’ll see tomorrow Why remember death, when life is here? seems my answer falls on truly deaf ears much easier to avoid as ‘tragic incidents’ every soul will taste it – coincidence? this is tiring, write about something else perhaps I’ll brag about the ultimate wealth or fast cars, jewellery and lots of women This is how to live, I’m winning I’m winning! BAM. “Boys life cut short in unfortunate accident” What have I done, is...

This is dedicated to you. Rose picked and given as gift vase tall occupied by bud, on twig days go by and changes take place growth, life, a smile on my face petals of red so deep and powerful living off water and light, impossible! day into night, eyes no longer so bright red begins to fade, danger and plight yet time continues as rose does die body left to nature, spirit to the sky We are but roses I tell you no lies given, as gifts, if only we realised life is a test, to succeed we must fear God, and place in Him our trust from our deep vases one day a release remember, your body, is truly on...

Where was the warning that life was so deep? even on the TV screen the future looks bleak. experience is necessary to relate to my musings perhaps journey to lands where people are losing life – innocence is but an excuse to remain conditions so poor that slavery looks humane we hide behind the excuses so many, weak as if we are not guilty for thousands do weep so long as they are not british or american we say nothing you can do to stop their passing away serving the ‘nation’ involves murder it seems as the death of one soldier justifies the means to remain as oppressors for as long as it...

They tell me there’s only but a short time left then you’ll be free from this meaningless mess But the struggle continues and time is like theft to think people look back on this time as the best i’ll keep struggling because these are life’s tests torture me without a crime so I can never rest should miseries of life be locked away in secrets kept while others disclose theirs as entertaining digest the warning of death so close can’t live to regret only to be told these words shall never manifest.

Someone told me to write poetry so I thought I’d give it a shot. I wrote my first ‘piece’ on the previous article – here’s another: My roots are embedded deep in the ocean – sinking our people are dying, barrel of the gun smoking forbade evil, stand for justice and peace its so much easier to step back and retreat but power is in the souls of men who believe true faith in God he knows that you grieve for your loved ones passing life is so short yet we fail to recognise that death is for sure read in the name of your lord who created how do we fail to see the...