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Poem
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How many poems 
Will I write 
To heal the unknown
How many words 
Do I need more 
To say 
I know every thing 
I say now must 
Have been said before
In a different way 
Of curse yet 
Same messages goes
On and on 

No title
Title this poem 
Your self 
Call it what ever 
You like but please
Respect my kind
No one is perfect 
So always I wonder
How much is left to
Write about 
Yet no one could 
Stop or avoid an inspiration
When if knocks 
It is so stubborn
It got no respect
It can knock you off
And hype your ego 
Make you see deeper 
And bring your creativity
Close to you 
So when ever I say never 
Some how some way 
I found my hands in need
In need of a blue pen 
Especially when inspiration
Is present

No title 
Gave any name
You so much desire 
To this poem
Is not your fault
Is your right 
Cos I have written
Enough to the world 
I have set my elbow
To nature 
Now it strengthen my 
Spirit to life 
So if I don't live 
Am a crime to my light
I have no other chance
I have no other way 
I walk in the ways 
I never intend I could 
Am alone in it mysteries
Still I ask for no help cos
If my contention to nature is my 
Upliftment to my redemption
Who are you to judge me

No title
I write to the world
I spoke to the spirits
Of the son and daughters
Of the world
You all are my relatives 
In distance places
I am a son of the world
Born by an African princess
Ready to live with the living
Still bleeding my kind 
To help prepare real kinds
For the next generation
So I choose awareness
Over fear 
If not I will have another 
New title to write now

No title
Among the living
Who is truly living
Among the many 
Who is the few 
Among the prophets
Who can really 
Blow life trumpet 
To all
With out isolation
Among the poor 
Who is poor enough 
To move his people
Beyond the line
Among the needy 
Who is the giver
Among who of who 
Who is the who 
Who are you 
If you finally realize
Who you truly are 
In this life
Then gave this poem
A title cos for me
I can't lie I love to write 
But now in summary
I really got 
No title
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