Lonely spring evening

As the engines roared,

Thick black smoke danced

In search of the heavens above.

Metals cut the ground open.

The pain one could only imagine.

Symmetrical lines mapped the fields,

Whose green once housed thousands of arachnids.

Then the Lord watered the earth.

The thirst, the hunger for growth

And the master sowed his seed.

And hope filled the spring airs.


I watched a famer and his son working the fields one lonely spring evening. So I wrote…

A mother’s tears

Her tears were only paralyzed.

Paralyzed emblems of hope.

Hope that her suffering today

Would wipe away your tears tomorrow.

She missed  the sunset

But found a full moon.

Whose light was everything.

Everything she loved about the sun.

But then the darkness came

And flying stars lit up the skies.

Stars that granted wishes.

She wiped away those paralyzed waters

And wished that the moon and stars

Fell right into your eyes

And so right in those big brown eyes

She had everything she missed about the sunset

She held you, she held light.


Why does brown too have to be black?

Close your eyes and picture heaven.

Beautiful isn’t it?

It was bright and white I’m guessing.

Now do the same, only this time, Hell.

So my question:

Why does brown also have to be black?

The good jobs, ‘White’ collar, aren’t they?

The illegal stuff, black. Black jobs we call them.

The beautiful princess was called Snow.

Literally Snow ‘White’, my standard of beauty.

Our standards of skin, black and white.

But are they? Are they really?


I pen these words against white paper

And yet I’ve never seen a white person.

I pet these words in black ink

And yet I’ve never seen a black person.

If beauty is white and ugly is black,

If heaven is white and hell is black,

If all good is white and all bad is black,

Then maybe I live in the wrong world.

The impact our “skin-language” has

May seem small and insignificant

But it goes way deeper than our brains can process.

The tongue has power

And power can be dangerous


Forgotten tribe

What about this tribe?

One of a mass of souls wandering

Up and about in the cold

Empty vessels made of gold

Seeking the kind of strings

Many take for granted

That tribe whose

“Knock and the door shall be opened to you”

Is only but a verse in the Bible

And what about that tribe

That longs your touch day and night

That dances with the stars

On cold lonely nights.

What about that tribe

The one that cares only so much

Happy with nothing in return

These empty golden vessels

Willing to give away

The golden vessels itself

So that you may empty your tears in it.

Drawing smiles in ink

Is only an attempt to hide reality.

Always remember that tribe

That cared when no one or everyone did.

The one that cared when you closed both eyes

And faced the other direction

That tribe that stayed

Waiting with open arms


Toxic pieces

Closed my eyes for just a second

A whole lifestory flashed before me

I saw you and all the pain you caused

I saw me before I got shattered

Too shattered that you must stay away

Or else these pieces will break every last part of you.

And who am I but a man to break another?


Found this in some of my old scribblings. Thanks for checking in and actually reading. Subscribe by email  so as not to miss out on any new pieces, musings, prose, etc.


I took a walk when my eyes failed to close

In the darkness, I watched

I watched as the liquor flew out of my hands.

With a blow to the head I sent Jack Daniel flying into the moon

That night with the moon and stars as my witnesses,

I decided to live again.


If you are struggling with an addiction, always remember that there is light at the end of the tunnel. You just have to believe. You can live again.


A recently caught up with a few friends of mine from school. One of them is David. I have known this guy since 2006. Davis a writer, performer and entrepreneur. We had been talking for some time when something struck me. David takes pride in talking about his past, something I seldom do. We talked about everything from life in boarding school to our first encounters with the fairer sex.

I barely talk about my past and when I do, there is things I choose not to say. There is memories that I have completely shaded black. Sometimes it’s like they don’t even exist. And other times, well I’d rather not mention.

What really breaks us to this point? What has the power to bring a whole man to his knees? I play rugby and on that field, despite all the pain, nothing and I mean nothing can get a tear out of me. So what are these things that really make us cry?  What exactly is it that creates all these hurtful memories we harbour within us?

Our existence is the embodiment of hope. The fact that you breathe is hope in itself. Life is hope. But I’ve come to understand that hope is a very dangerous thing. Hope is what breaks you. It is what brings the strongest of men (and or women) to their knees. And since life is hope and hope is dangerous, then life is dangerous in itself. You can’t live and not expect bad things to happen. At one point or the other in life, certain things shall and will happen. But because we hope only for the good things, occurrence of bad things will break us. Just Imagine winning a 5 million dollar cheque! Imagine this happening and you did not hope for it to happen? That overwhelming feeling, the adrenaline, the energy is inversely equivalent to what you feel when you break because something happened that you did not hope for.

Those that hope the most get broken hardest. But they are same people have changed the world. Hope breaks us but it is also hope that pushes us to achieve the impossible. Hope builds the world. So we can’t stop hoping simply because we don’t want to get broken. Life is a risk in itself. The uncertainty of tomorrow is the biggest risk. But to reach tomorrow, you need that hope. That hope that can get you there or break you.

And if you are broken, it is only hope that can collect those pieces and make you whole. Then it will break you again and rebuild you. And then you will learn that living is risky. And a risk can result in all sorts of things, good or bad. But with hope, you move on regardless of circumstance.



Drinking from the cup of love

Poisoned whatever it is that lay inside

And when my soul finally came out

He made the greatest mistake of all

He murdered her. He murdered love.

He killed her so I could live

So I could live again


Then I read a BIBLE

LOVE had to be crucified so we all could live.

Thorns to the neck, he bled

Carried our cross instead

Then nailed to it like a thief

A wild dog, A worthless being.

One by one the nails went deep

Deep in the hands and feet.

And LOVE looked us all in the eye

Forgave our sins, our dirty sins.

And breathed his last.

10 Powerful Facts About the Cross of Christ & His Crucifixion ...

So as you read this,

Don’t make the mistake that poet made.

He paid a price to live and his was LoVe

But what is to live anyway?

For a life without LoVe is no life at all.

So don’t be like the dead poets.

You should love LOVE even when love hurts

Only then shall you be able to live.

You will soar high above like the great eagle

Above all men, above all earth

Your dreams shall come to pass

Only because you had LOVE all the way

And when your time finally comes

LOVE will welcome your soul in the beauty that’s heaven


LOVE died so that I could live.

Nailed to cross or so I believe.

But I went on to kill love so that I could really live.


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