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No tittle 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