The Park I was inspired by the voices in the park like the forgotten sounds of the dark to write if need be bark to the loneliness thats so stark the confusion of my youth holds no comfort or spark it influences nothing but the darkness i feel as i sit in this boulevard of of lost hope dead dreams and sea of full of sharks the dreams that my parents out of love dares to spark is quenched bythe society that lures you to the dark an african i was raised to be bold never fear to act,but now that the time lurks and soon i have to act to clear this dark forest of thoughts in path so i can rediscover the future and dream my parents dreamed in love for me a coward i am ,lost not knowing how to act but as a youth living in a generation of the dark we all know be you black or white brow or blue that its not a walk in the park.

Me And X It would have been me holding your hands it could have been me catering to your secret needs why is not me kissing and caressing your hair is it not me fathering your baby yes it was me that put a ring on your finger it was me hoping we would fight no more i know it was me that would be your no 1 fan why is not me that you are loving why should it be him that you are touching secretly why is him that your eyes are desiring yes i know why its not me because we were in love but now you are in love and not with me

Dice Of The Earth Sweet scents of the night sweet music of the birds pleasurable company of the women honourable fellowship of men undying love of mothers red red love of the spouses bitterness of the cheated revenge of the heartbroken wars of the kingdoms rejection of the sexually confused fobidden love of same sex agony of the prisoner indulgency of the kids o mother earth you have heaven and hell in thee sweet mother of all why would our faith lie in dices when would we swin in the ocean of smiles and our hearts be wild and free like the horses

In the end would you still be here my love would still you love and care for me my dear when darkness unfurls would u still hold me now that our game of make believe is in the end would your senses still abandon their defense at my sight would my kiss still give your soul wings in the end would our body and soul still one in the end my love when the age becomes our company would you still spare a thought for me.

Can you see can you feel Can you believe and understand that your sword needs to be sheared African you are colourful and beautifully flawed My lost sister the warrior princess that keeps fighting pain disappointments of the men in your #life , the flower that refuses to die in the concrete , i see you I watch your battles not in fascination but in deep sadness hoping I can help in anyways I can , I see your battles as a single mother worried about rent and food for you baby , I see you do battle in the arena of #life alone striving to keep your head up in this morally bankrupt world and still remain beautiful keep on my sister !your sword will keep on slaying the adversaries you face