Welcome to the garden,
mind the foliage on the side,
the bitter sweet leaves
dressed with the acidity
that provokes,
leaving a sour taste
in the throat from
life’s lemons and limes,
sweetened by the taste
of crushed grapes from the vine, intertwined between
the cucumbers
and the celery,
cabbage patch running wild
with the celeriac,
artichokes on the weeds
and seeds feeding off
the shoots and leaves,
eating away on the pears,
shooting down apples
and leaves
without a trace,
but who can replace
the fruits of my labour,
tossed in the storm
causing mixed behaviour
in the garden of life,
navigating life’s lessons
through trial and error,
going through
the trials of errors
caused by
picking the wrong mushrooms,
taking a trip,
picking herbs and spices
to get a grip,
please hold on
to these words
if the meaning is hard to find,
because the bittersweet
garden of fruit and
Veg is the salad of my mind.


Myriad thoughts running through the peaks and valleys in my mind,
when times get peak,
I get a feeling like
I’m walking through
the valley of death,
every footstep runs in tandem
with every sharp intake of breath,
taking in whatever’s around me,
silent sound of reality surrounds me,
high definition visions
through the piercing incisions
from the panorama of my retina,
seeing the dark clouds
Nas used to see,
keep following me
around until the world is mine
and I’m free to see
brighter days
on the horizon of the sea,
set my sails on course
to realise the hope
and dreams that lie within,
not believing the lies
within that I can do without,
get behind me,
unbind me
from this web of deceit,
and let me fill out the belly
for the story of my life
until I can’t see defeat.


Feeling like I’m in a dream state
State dreams that are not to my benefit
Claimant number #4080
Claiming money for my benefit
As I seek to work to live
Currently living to seek work
Self esteem losing steam
In my self worth
But for what it’s worth
I keep working for the dream
Because really reality
Isn’t quite what it seems
To me that is
Looking at things as is
As if I’m preparing for the day
To be an overnight success
Fuelling the ambition
Burning inside my chest
Through to my vital organs
As the organist plays
The memories of my life
Whilst each passing moment
Keeps bringing me
Closer to death
So I chill with death’s cousin
Frozen in a deep sleep
Because the best dreams are the ones
Where the thought and reality meet.


The never ending tale

The sale of the century

Of a hundred dreams

of scenes and episodes

Of soap operas

Housed in the bubbles

blowing through the market

sailing away

castaway in the streets

Looking at how things stalled

How things got anchored

And held back

When I look back

At the stalls selling their wares

I know a little about this

I understand some of that

But to the seller

It’s neither here nor there

As I tear through the market

tearing out my hair

tearing out my thoughts

as tears run down my cheeks

Thinking about the trials and errors

trials and tribulations

Going through this trialling era

Hoping for a trial period

So those can sample

Why I believe in myself so much

What makes me smile

What lights my spark

Why I get out of bed

To do such wonderful stuff

Because I don’t fit the criteria

I don’t tick the boxes

Because I’m a mixed bag

Pick your mix from my black boxes

Because when you think

I’ve crashed and burned

And you think I’ve lost it

In the abyss

You’ll find something special

With some random access memories

Yet you were the one who dismissed this.


Wake up to daybreak,
Daily routine kicks in,
to make a fast break down the stairs,
For breakfast,
breaking shells for eggs in a pan,
break my diet plan,
turn on the television,
to view the breaking news,
from across the globe,
On the panoramic screen,
With the same repeated scene,
of macabre images of a broken world,

family breakdown
vulnerable kids in families break down
from the break ups of broken couples
pre matures getting broken from wombs
Cos it’s easier to live life
when the child’s in a tomb
But inside screams a hollow soul of doom

the young and gifted not getting a break
Held hostage in red tape
from laws that make it
impossible to break away from the catch-22
no experience for work
no work for no experience
In turn
The only break they get is being an intern
Where in turn they work for nothing
Stay broke and in turn gets turned over
Half lucky like a 2-leaf clover

Broken men with no fathers
Break keys for a living
Break, enter and steal for a living
Break people for a living
Just to get a killing
from the world’s spoils
Making something out of the concrete soils they grew up from
They were something that lost nothing
Because they had everything to gain
To maintain
But they get uprooted and placed in a cell

I’m a broken man
with layers that need breaking
Put my heart and soul into this
Aching within this glass box
Throw stones at me please
Break me out of this
False philosophy
Where all I see
Are parts of me
that need to be broken apart from me
Depart from me
Like Israelis
Walking through the parted sea
To become Egypt’s escapees
Melt this insecurity
Hammer on the ice
Break this deep freeze.

26 Letters, Infinite Ideas. Spread The Word.


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