I look at the moon and think of you.

I am a musician
And a poet
And an artist.

I have the ear
And the mind
And the eye.

Which has qualified me to say,
Your heart and mind and physical design
Are beautiful in every way.

It's time for a name
Not to be just another 'name'

To anyone who lost a life
You didn't die in vain

Colour doesn't matter
Inside we're all the same

It's time to stop the suffering
It's time to stop the pain

I often ask mie friends, “ Are you okay?”
Because for me “are you okay” can mean a lot of things like:
Are you okay? I’m here to listen you.
Are you okay, because I care for you.
Are you okay,
Because I Love you.
Are you okay??

Being a poet
is both a pain and a privilege.

All you do is
bleed your emotions
on a thousand pages
while people sing your praises
for ages.

I just want to lie here
but you signal a new day
I try to shut you out
in every possible way

I pull the covers above my head
I bury my face in the bed.
I clamp my eyes closed,
yet you make me sleep in throws.

I will not wake to a new day
as hopeless as the rest
I do not want to see the sunrise
please just let it set

I do not want to wake
just to see my hands shake
just to see my soul break
I have nothing of this day to make.

Please just let me lie here
as the sun streams in
Please just let me cry here
as the sun streams in

When is a poem not a poem and just a ramble of spoken words?
This one here is just a thought
that I wanted to be heard.