Sitting in the canteen
Ready to tuck into my lunch
Approach the microwave
The corner of my left eye
Caught a wave
‘hey mate, have you fin….’
‘that smells exotic, what’s that there?’
Just some rice and stew with some dodo
As he stares doe-eyed
Looks me up and down, asking
‘why do you have a frown?’
That’s just the way my face drops
He takes a glance at my phone
And sees my last played
Hop-scotching to the conclusion,
‘You listen to that hip-hop all day’
Nah, not really
I should file a grievance
Against your egregious
Because you perceive
I’m a certain way
Because of my hue
So who told you this?
What, the TV?
Did they inform your world view
Instead of coming to ask me,
Or her, or him
What they are about,
A fair exchange
Carries a lot of currency
But it seems you’ve spent time
Not knowing
Investing in that blissful ignorance
Saying things
Withdrawn from the bank of privilege
Please don’t waste my time
With these wild thoughts
And please open
your eyes and ears
Before you talk.


Chapters and pages turn
for each scribe
of new stories
to elevate the hopeless
stuck in a high rise
Trying to raise
flat spirits
trapped in the elevator
Where the up aboves
Can’t hear their high pitch
In the field of dreams
Beneath the seeds of disappointment
Missed appointments
At the Job Centre
Universally discrediting their struggle
To make ends meet
Beyond the soggy veg
On a plate sat at the edge
of the table
Upon which the red letter days
Stays for days on end
No hot air balloon to
Take them away
A stray knock on the door
From the bailiff
To collect the little they have
Under order of the court
So fraught, so out of order
That the bed they bought on
Credit for the daughter
Has been blacklisted
When do the poor and forgotten
Lay their head to rest?
To arrest their troubles and fears
To lock away for another day
Waiting of that day to come
Where the Father
finds them
holds them
and whispers reasssuring
“It’s all right little one”.


The darker the shadows,
The greater the light,

So I keep shining bright,
To reach new heights,
On the hill,
For a vertical climb,
Foregoing vertigo,
Staying away from the spin,
The lies from within and around,
Sticking to what I know,
And what I do really well,
Self talk defeats doubt,
Belief from a drought in a lake,
Dot mistake an oasis for a drink
Or double-think as a fact,
Or fiction for true stories,
To turn heads and shred minds,
With the siren call,
That worship your rise,
But prey for your fall.

Love or money?

Love or money,
With which do I invest in?
Money makes the world go round,
But love keeps it interesting,
With both a return on investment
Is not always guaranteed
You can’t hedge your bets with love
Money can’t give you all you need
Love is pure and good
The love of money leads to greed
Fuelled by the perception
That the tool is a hammer
And every problem is a nail
That you hit with the money
When you fee the love fails
On the conditions attached
That limits love’s effect
Lust blurs the lines of love
When you pay that into sex
After the physical touched
What comes next?
An orgasmic euphoria
Costing more than you bet
Because love is limitless
Which money isn’t
You reap what you sow
When you invest in love
from the One above
Money sinks you to new lows
When you don’t have dough,
Don’t get sick of stale bread,
Trying to get fed,
Keep the love in your heart,
The wisdom in your head,
Master the money well,
Until the final death knell.

Rectangle Revolution.

The revolution won’t be televised,
It’s being broadcast on a smartphone,
Change can’t be put on hold
Regardless if the money
That changes hands
Doesn’t fold anymore
Because the events unfolding
Are raw as the footage
Follows in the footsteps
Of the marginalised
And the oppressed
As the camera keeps rolling
From iPhones
To stop us being treated like Androids
Or illegal aliens
To control the space that we’re shipped in from
To board us on another boat
How do we stay afloat
Whilst drowning in a sea of disillusion
When we discover the love
We have for each other
Is falser than the hope
That we expect through the clouds
Between the smoke
Lining up silver
To find the gold paved street
But getting 3rd degree-burned
by the reflections
Beyond bronze statues
Waiting to move to better places
Taking pictures and selfies
Snapshots into new plots
And stories of rebellion written
On the faces of modern-day
Revolutionaries holding intelligent rectangles
To untangle the false truths and half-lies
We see from false news being shared
That present events skewed
But a serial can be killed
When we can see the truth shared and spread
From a 6-inch view.