Pen to paper
Poetry comes forth
Ideas as weird as if south’s become north
You with me still? Or have I lost you?
Can’t wait for you to catch up, I write how I’m supposed to
As unnerving as black, as relaxing as sky blue
Those are just but two things these words can do
I don’t see myself as a poet
I’m more of a wordsmith
I’m crazy, we all know it, but don’t you just love how my words split
The page into two, or three… or four?
Or more?
You’re in my mind, enjoy your tour
I’m rarely sure
Of what I’m going to write about
But I’m always assured, deep down I know
I will write it out.

I want to shoot someone
I want to shoot myself
I need just one gun... one
Two bullets would really help
I want to push you over a bridge
I want to ******* hang myself
Lion fighting off crocodile
Insanity? Or mentally versatile?
When thoughts force themselves into your head
Instability, in and out of bed
When the fine line between what's sane and what's not, becomes a grey area
Wouldn't you rather be dead?
Really though?
You could turn your imaginary place into a play area
Just sort of "go nuts"... macadamia
Walk around with your head held high
Saying "I'm going to slay me a... dragon today"
Or smack the stripes off a zebra, then head **** a giraffe
Enough!... ****, I'm beginning to scare myself
Next time I write a poem
I should ******* prepare myself
S'nuts.

I know that I'm different
Got something inside me
That makes loads of people's first instinct to fight me
For they sense my capability
For I have an ability
I'm bigger than me
I'm bigger than one
My message could spread like warmth from the sun
I'm my mother's spirit
I'm the sense in a lyric
I'm so much to say... it comes out as hysterics
I'm pro and I'm con, disadvantage and merit
All at the same time
All in the same line
It's crazy how poetry and art have evolved
How with lack of formula and rules... I'm resolved
To be what feeling dictates
Writing, sketching, rapping, singing, praying... kneeling
I can only describe this feeling as "great!"

Continued from part 1...

There was a thud as someone behind him hit the ground… probably the recipient of the bullet.  His chest hurt, everything from his neck down was on fire. Michael tried to get up, and gave up. He slumped face first into the shallow water, taking a mouthful of sand in the process.
So this is how I was meant to go? Was his last thought before everything went dark.
The commotion brought him back, the smell of battle and violence, blood and guns, arrows flew past… rifles went off. He decided to stay down for a moment, until he could maneuver how he was going to get up without being hit. Tilting his head, he looked back up the beach, they were more than he remembered… and seemed to be spilling in from the dense forest. And then he turned and saw his comrades. Five brave souls, an arrow whizzed past his head and struck! Four brave souls. Mark fell off the canoe and splashed into the water.
Hamisi and Lewis were yelling at him to get into the boat, he tried to get up but his arms failed him. The arrow had done more than enough damage, He was bleeding out fast. The pain was excruciating, but he needed to get into that boat… or he was definitely going to die on that beach… with these savages. No can do. Michael made one last determined effort and pushed himself off the ground, his broken ribs grazed against one another under his chest… the arrow wasn’t helping. But he was on his feet and dragging himself to the boat.
Lying on the floor and peeking out the front of the boat, Juma and Modi, the two coast guard officers were shooting down bow and arrow wielding savages  one after another. Michael got to the boat and managed to catch a glimpse of a head hunter as a bullet struck him clean on the forehead. A head shot! He caught the irony. The ragged fellow in a filthy and tattered brown shirt and blue jeans that were equally as tattered, was ****** of the ground, legs in the air… arms flailing and then landed ******* his back. His right leg flinched once, and then he didn’t move. Juma took a moment to admire his marksmanship with a slight smile. Then he was firing again.
‘They’re too many! We need to go now!’ Hamisi was shouting as he grabbed one of the oars and began to row wildly, Lewis lunged at the other one and followed suit.  An arrow struck the floor of the canoe between them. They rowed harder.
As they pulled away from the shoreline Modi and Juma began to laugh, slowly at first, then it got more intense, the other two joined in and in a few seconds all four were in hysterics in that little boat. It was more of a nervous celebratory laugh than anything else. Michael attempted to join in but his ribs shot waves of pain throughout his nervous system.
He blacked out again…

Maximize the minimum
A Rasta man told me
So I opened my eyes and saw me some...
Truth… and tapped into the bold me
Allowed the truth to hold me
Scared is something that I won’t be
I refuse it
I have to work this skill
This music
Make it work and use it
Roots that support this growing tree
This to me is poetry
I will write
I will sing
To the best of my ability
And in future you will see me son
Maximizing my minimum
I can’t stay stagnant
I can’t
I will take from this world whatever it is I want
I will be amazing
Step into this battle guns blazing
And if I face closed doors
I will find alternative ways in
I may not be a ‘proper’ fellow
But I do put on a charming smile… and win them over from the moment I say ‘hello’
So I’m using these little attributes to my advantage
To come out ahead… on top… superior
Point?
Vantage.

I’m about to do something genius
I’m about to do…
Guess what I’m about to do
I’m about to do something with these lines
I’m about to do something that probably has never been done in previous times
Writers’ police will want me for these literary crimes
Awesome, crazy and fun times
I’m about to have
I’m about to teach a lot of new words to mimes… that should make them laugh
See what I did there?
Like a whale taking a breath… I’m back up
Now take a moment to read this poem from the previous line… all the way back up.

I saw these neighbourhoods
I grew up in these neighbourhoods
I saw these streets
I grew up in these streets
I lived passed them… sort of
I didn't end up in jail, a ******… or deceased
Still, whenever I walk through them today... I feel at home
A sense of belonging
A nostalgic longing…
To remain here forever
But realize that forever would be too long
I would be fed up by month number five
Getting high every day… getting into fist fights
That was no way to live a life
It was just about getting through the day…
Survive
Exist
Eat
Be alive
These things are very different from living
Because the devil that gives you certain heights… compliments them with issues
And he just keeps on giving
I see the junkies, a hardened lot
Taking their ‘cut’ from the public service vehicles plying their route
And woe be unto the tout that refuses to pay
For these scavengers get vicious, they scratch, punch… and loot
I call them scavengers because that’s what they seem like… true
But as I look into the crowd, their ‘gang’, I realize that I know one of them… actually two
They cross over to me; we bump fists… a way of greeting
We’re still ‘boys’, but if I were to describe them now as ‘wayward’?... Fitting
I cannot do that though
We may have taken different paths in life, but there was a time when we hang together
A time when we were young, running around these streets and I called this place home
Now, what sort of man would I be if I just upped and forgot where I came from?

I just want to say thank you
Thanks
Thanks to all those people that never gave up on me when I almost gave up on myself
Thanks to all those that offered a helping hand, you will always deserve my help
If you will ever need it
This piece you will know is about you… yes you
My friend, my ‘fan’… no one else will ever read it
When I write for you I do not just write, this piece I breathe it… I bleed it
That sort of support and faith in me from you… I realize now, I need it
Thank you
Thanks
You who pulled me aside at the bar… and said “I have never heard a doper rapper thus far”
You who said “That poem I read… the one you wrote, killed me dead”
You… my friend, are the reason I keep my head above water
The reason I don’t drown… word to my mother…
To my unborn son… to my unborn daughter
The number of times I thought ‘I’m done’
Then in the midst of a dark spell, a ray of hope, a light
A bit of sun
I am not a vampire so I step into it… I don’t burn
I allow that support to teach me, allow myself to learn
We all have at one point or another, danced with the devil
And tripped
But with your trampoline-like support, I bounce back
Yes
You show me, make me realize
I am more than well equipped.

This man stood in the dark* *(He stood in the light)
This man had no idea what to do with the light (He had made it through the night)
For so much time had gone by since dusk (He was free... a seed, ready to grow, that has shed its outer husk)
He had spent one too many hours in ‘fright’ (Not to be confused with being ‘about to flee’… he was ‘about to soar’, ready to take flight)
Too much time had gone by since he’d gotten lost in the night (And it all came naturally, everything just sort of… felt right)
He’d taken the same wrong path he swore he would avoid (He’d avoided a path that he knew so well, one that was… of all serenity, devoid)
That same mistake over and over again, he was frustrated… annoyed (Some would call it a ‘near miss’, he calls it a ‘near crash’… because he nearly crashed and missed, he was overjoyed)

**The previous man… a broken record, a repetitive mistake, an irritating stutter
Just for the record, the previous emotional clutter… seems much less appealing than the organized latter
And the obvious better option for me... for you
Is to work extra hard at being guy number two.

What is this?
I feel a hint of the same pain business
Thought I was passed that... apparently not
All this fortune, I've 'apparently' got
Not
Anger in my throat, pain... burningly hot
I'm tired of it
Beginning to think it won't leave
I need to make like  tree and...
Branch
Alcohol breakfast... cigarette lunch
Don't get your ******* up in a bunch
As frustrating as the financial crunch
When all the big fish did was "Munch! Munch! Munch!"
What financial crunch is this?
Affecting only the one with a legit business
I'm mad at the television
Depicting our childish, corrupt, political situation
Yes, that's the definition
Of pain.

And then I saw her
And she was beautiful
Stunning
Smiling
Graceful
And all I kept telling myself was ‘Nigel, do be cool…’
But it was too much and left me a little bit awkward
Like the new kid in school
She spoke with such ease… like she had no idea how amazing she was
I highly suspect that this was because
She knew
And was just basking in the moment
And there I was, calm and collected… on the outside
Mushy and melted… on the inside
I find myself still thinking about her a day later
How can someone be so enchanting?
If she has a man… I hate him
And I hate her
The previous line is not possible though
Her whole aura catches you off guard like a sucker punch
An unexpected blow
I saw her…
And she was beautiful
And as I type this a day later
There is no doubt in my mind about the fact that I want to date her
And I will.

They call me a loose cannon... I call them "target"
To be deep is what I choose... canyon
As bright as a star gets
As opposed to being dull
Like others I know, that are as cheerful as a skull
For the system, won't slave
I'm the one that will be doing a dance in my grave
Truth hits at them from all over, tsunami
Tidal wave
Dead men tell no tales... they say
I'm breathing, so I must be alive I guess
Which means that it's my duty to stand up today
I'm bleeding these words, less
For the sake of trying to impress
Them
Than to address
Them
Speak my mind... and bravely express
Myself... and point of view
Not afraid of the three fingers that point back at me
Every time that I point at you
Yes
Loose cannon
Poetic and artistic insanity in excess
At its best.

I used to be passionate about my music
So passionate
I fear I’m waning now
I’m still as good, still practice… and can still do it better than the average emcee
But I fear I’m waning now
The rush I would get when I stepped into the booth… or into a rap battle
I don’t feel it so much these days
I fear it is becoming mechanical… becoming just something I can do… and less something I itch to do
I fear I’m losing interest
‘I fear’ this because I cannot afford to lose interest
This is my life
How does one go on without his identity?
I lift my hands in the air and pray to He that is the supreme entity
I cannot be this good and not enjoy every second of it
I live, breathe… I am hip hop
I simply love it
But I fear I'm waning
Even though I'm still recording
Been at this for so long my heart is getting cold
The ***** is frosting
How much longer can I keep this up?
This is getting exhausting
I need a break… I need to break free
This gift is beginning to feel like a curse
The frustration might just break me
The progress, if any, is so slow
I’m afraid I might be hitting the wall… I just don't know no more.

I think poets are aliens… from another planet
I mean, we must be
You have to be off your rocker to get it, to understand it…
I mean, is it just me…
That sees it?
The way we took grammar, complicated as they made it...
And blew the rules to the wind, we decided to ‘breeze’ it
We made up our own… and as a sensible man...
I can say, they don’t even need to make sense
Because they are what they are… poetic and intense
I really think we are not human though… I'm being serious about this
We go around seeing through a third eye
I know because I am about this
And we are crazy I tell you
We see the art in everything
We probably came up with the phrase ‘an about kiss’…
Or an 'almost kiss'… whatever
‘It’s either a kiss or it’s not, it’s as simple as that’...
The rest of society thinks… oh, but the poet would have none of that
We are weird I tell you
Us artistic types
We open our minds to anything and everything
We even befriend the mystic types
We would take it there… or allow our curiosity to take our minds anywhere
We would experiment to a point where we’re tripping out
We would… and you know it, just as long as it’s something to write about
This creativity thing is like a super power… **** it!
I rest my case… arrest me and take me back to my mother planet.

It’s scary I tell you, when I turn around and look…
Back
To the days when I just couldn’t wait to read that book
I’d plan my day so that I'd have several hours of page-turning time… with no interruptions in between
Nowadays I find myself turning fewer pages, but lazily clicking away as I read off a computer screen
I’m afraid I will lose the reading culture I’d built... for this is not the same
I go through a few pages, then switch to an online pool game
It’s a habit I’m beginning to abhor
Something I never would have dared to do before
I would read the crap out of a book in a day… or two at most, before
Always hungry for a story, like a ****** with a craving looking to score
I was a book worm… now I just don’t know
What I am anymore
I grab a good paperback and dive into the story
An hour later my eyes feel heavy, I begin to feel a little weary
The Sandman’s close by and I am beginning to worry
‘Will I even get to finish this chapter?’
I begin to rush through the page in a hurry
But by now I’m reading shallow… and the story is so deep
Still, I need to know what happens to the protagonist next… before I fall into this deep sleep
I can feel it lurking around the corner
**** Sandman!...
Around the corner
Then I turn to my machine… that wretched thing
And see the window I left open on the screen
And decide to squeeze in…
A short story I had been reading earlier, before I ‘shut eye’
Knowing full well that if I force myself past chapter four my brain surely shall die
But, forty five minutes later… well, what do you know? The computer has done it again…
It has kept me awake and reading, way past chapter ten.

The scary thing is... well, not scary as such
But this evening, on my way home, I wanted to die so much
The loss of control, of not driving the mat*
That sped down the road, "Thump! Thump!" in my heart
I realised then, that I do not fear death
Constantly surrounded by pain and by strife
But not cowardly enough to take my own life
Disappointment and anger, a lump in my throat
A stump in the ground, a buoy that won't float
It's still scary though, that I thought of death seriously
Curiously looked at, as I stared down furiously  
The only thing that would make me not eager to die
Is not knowing my status with God... and where my soul would lie.

Feel the urge
The need
To stealthily glide through the night
To 'feed'
Allow my instinct, to gracefully move me
I'm the main character in my own vampire movie
A potential threat to society
Like a psycopathic sixteen year old just released from juvie
The difference is
My charm pulls you in, attracts you
Before the predator in me violently attacks you
I'm a hunter, masculine not feminine
It's my night
I stalk prey, so I can't afford to sparkle
This isn't "Twilight"
I'm the deadliest fantastic legend
Or so they think
But what if I was real?
I'd  be "Blade"
Edward Cullen is gayer than "Pink".

It’s confusion like a bad stutter
Deceptive confusion
Organized clutter
Oh, how her eyes flutter
Oh, how she flirts with me… still somehow I can’t get her
She’s a tease, she’s such a tease
She plays this game with ease
I just want to be with her, the word on the tip of my tongue is ‘please’
She’s been with everyone else but keeps me friend zoned
Keeps me at bay
She can’t do this to me, it’s not right… this is just not okay
She knows that if she gave in I would do anything for her
Oh, how every fiber of my being hungers and yearns to know her
She pays me minimal attention… and yet every move that I make is for her
It’s hard to read her intentions
So I take the next step slower
But I want to leap…to take a risk
Embrace her and never let go
Have her ear, force her to listen and hear me speak
I need to let her know
That I will never stop chasing after her
Me…? Give up? I digress
Forever wooing this enchantress society calls ‘Success’.

Detached, heartless

Cold

Reattached, 'Jah bless'

Bold

Full speed ahead

Clear view

Wipers, windshield

Can't work with the rear view... mirror

I write, **** them dead

Killer

Let them say "Dude, the verse... you murdered it!"

'Ill'er'

But still I... wonder if they got the message

Wonder whether or not they feel 'I'

Whether or not they got what I wrote

Do they think of me as the 'blacksmith' that hit the iron 'while its hot'...

Or not?

Write up a sword, Wordsmith... real thought

Pulling at my mind from both sides

Really taught

In their hearts, will they reserve a spot...

For that which us poets wrote?

Or for the messages they feel we brought...

Forth?

Did we succeed in pointing their moral compass upwards... north?

It would be disappointing if they read, moved on and forgot

For we aim to provoke thought

Intelligence is put to better use when wisdom is sought

Against the odds, we've fought

Expressive vigilance was sold to us... we bought

Free as the winds... set sail our boat

On a sea where storms are rife

We chose to stay afloat

Stay true

So if you're still reading thank you, for giving me a few minutes of your life.

I think of an end, and it will appear
I think there is no end… and it’s the beginning of my life each and every year
I choose where I am, by having chosen where I've been
A number of wise decisions… with a lot of nonsense in between
Epiphanies hit me and I see life in a split screen
Shared blunts with street urchins, with no idea where the spliff’s been
Arrested a couple of times… in holding cells I have been
Series of unfortunate events unfolding… in short spells?
I was reckless and immature… I was seventeen
But I stayed on, believed in the blessing…
From above and realized that between God and Satan… one of them must have been testing…
Me
My resilience, my ability to learn from experience…
My brilliance?
I yearned to play in the big leagues with the main players
I could have sworn that I could see the future like Soothsayers
I was going beat them
Despite being riddled with inexperience
I tried once… tried twice, made a step
Tried the third time, another step
The fourth, a leap
And I’m still at it, hoping to reap…
From this artistic thing
These poems, this music… when I rap, when I sing
This is the breath of life to me… it’s more than just ‘a thing’.

Freedom of words
Is on a level of its own
Poetry makes more sense as it comes along
As much as the next line is unknown
Just like freedom of speech
It can criticise, demean... teach
"What's the difference between the two?" you may ask
Explanation of that is something that is difficult to reach...
At
In between the lines
The message I subconsciously preach
Is different
Familiar and strange... at the same time
A whole other level... of deciphering lines
Your interpretation of this
Isn't necessarily mine.

‘The world around me
All this random stuff getting hurled around me
People getting burned around me
Life seems pretty hard… around me
I’m the observer, that fly on the wall
The observer, still on the wall watching everything around me crumble
Watching everyone fall
The one that’s unnoticeable, like the extra in a movie
A constant extra though, immovable… as much as these events really move me
I watch and wait…
And wait for what?
A change, I think
I think I’ll change…
Tact
And do something about it
But will it really make a difference?
My Input that is
Or, will it make no difference?
Would everything remain the same, with or without it?
I still sit still on the wall, if flies can do that, ‘sit’ on a wall
Considering moving over to the windowsill and watching this downfall
Of society, of the world around me
Financial downfall as well as social, not to mention moral
On second thought, maybe I’ll just hang back... and do nothing at all
For if I have learned anything from our leaders, it is that
Any input is…
Optional
Seasonal
Not to mention conditional
For to do anything about this without any profit or benefit in sight…
Well, that would just be plain impractical.’

Sway the right way, while going wrong
Delivery's weak, but his talk is strong
What's the point?
To talk lip? Impress?
To act, walk and talk slick, but the reality is that you repress
That which you need to express
The right to 'speak your mind', against 'pleasing them' takes second place
That's not right?
For a man not to be able to hold his own, stand his ground... or, if necessary
Fight
Dignity's hidden like a shadow in the night
That's what you get for conforming to the system, being 'proper'... a piece of the puzzle
Like a dog roaming the mean streets in a muzzle
I pity these people
Who always look up to others
And will never know how it feels  to be better... or even
Equal
Sad people.

I'm a man because I take a stance against *******, or modern day slavery
I'm a man because the beast inside is uncaged, my focus not wavering
I'm a man because I see beyond my nose, beyond horizons
The man  in me recognizes the lack of agility, and not the size of a python
So I chose not to fear
But to make sense of situations
And maximise self expression
The distant look in my eyes
I see it too
In Barack's eyes I've seen it too... it's true
I tend to fall off, and slip off the track sometimes
But the Almighty's seen me through the toughest of times
I'm proud to say that I know what my purpose in life is, it's mine
But to get there I've got to keep myself in check... in line
It probably will never be easy, I understand
But...
I owe it to God to remain strong and stay "This Man".

I stand aside sometimes
And await my punishment
Await my flogging
The consequences of my actions
I know I've been bad
I've lied to myself so, I have been had... by me
But that false reality, for a second, filled me with so much satisfaction
I stand aside, stand out of my own way... so I can see
The ability to be in denial to myself is one that I lack, that character is hardly me
And so, I stand aside sometimes, turn my gaze inward, and look inside at times
Correct my wrongs
The rhythm somehow kind of went off key
Re-write these songs
These bad ideas come in crowds... in throngs
These crazy things that we conjure up
That flow freely
**** this tap
Will never stop giving
When will it dry up?

More loss...
Of life
Somebody somewhere has lost
A father, a mother, a brother, a sister, a husband… a wife
On this Saturday morning
Somebody is weeping… somebody is mourning
‘News just in’… it probably is a media frenzy…
By now
But somewhere out there
Some people do not know where they’re friends be
Right now
Eleven dead… eleven nameless people gone
Unless it’s your loss, then somebody has a name
This is that ‘it’s someone else’s problem’ game
The news you hear… but it doesn’t really ‘hit home’
Unless it really does ‘hit home’
To me… like to you, right now these people are unknown
But they are still people… they were living, breathing people
Now gone
On a Saturday morning
Many are beginning a sad day… mourning
We can lay blame on the ferry services… the lack of precaution
And trust me, they deserve that blame… they really do
But to pin point one particular person to blame it on?... Really?... Who?
Right now… today
Let’s just take a moment to pray
For the injured and the gone
And when I say …I’m glad it isn’t a school day
And most school-going children are at home
I know I’m not alone.

Swim deep and walk on water
At the same time
Makes no sense to to you?
Its not supposed to
Make sense... to you
If you don't get it
If this reads fluid to you... and you don't sweat it
Ironic... innit?
But that means you were meant to get it
To understand
That it takes a certain type of mentality
To soar high... bravely... Pterosaur
And not Ostrich... head under sand
We shall continue to preach revolution
An old, but evolved  resolution
Until we die
And even beyond the grave
We shall continue to haunt that which we stand against
Free that 'slave'
From the ills of society
Save
And stand up for one another
Be a father, a mother, a sister, a brother
To your loved one, your comrade, their guidance... their radar
And we shall always be an asset, a benefit
To one another.

Let me share with you men
A truly bad idea
I know this girl I badly wanted to know then
So I obviously had Ideas
Little did I know, this beauty had her own
She stared down and asked “My dear…?”
“Yes?”
“You’d truly be blessed if you walked me into this shoe shop… “
“Which one?”
“…this one right here.”
I heard the warning bell go off
But told my conscience “Go to hell… show off!”
So off we went… I mean, in we strode
To the aisle with shoes she couldn’t afford
She tried them all
They tried her back
I almost cried there at the mall for lack…
Of foresight
And thought ... ‘All night we’re stuck in here’
And I swore the next time I was attacked by ‘pretty power’ I’d put up more of a fight
She just grinned from ear to ear
Jumped up and said… “Oooh! See the ones in RED?”
And I shed a little tear
Suffice it to say, we stayed three hours
I left drained of all my super powers
As I left I saw the jealous look from another trapped fellow
And an attendant whispered in my ear…
“Lucky you, she’s kept him here for seven hours.”
So guys...
The shoe shop's your biggest fear.

I am but a man of many faces…
Experiences and places
I am but one of many definitions of art, poetry… creativity if you may
Inconsistently consistent sometimes… makes no sense?
Just let these words play… around in your mind
Until you happen to find
Where I’m going with this
Several compositions in April, and none through May
I think
Where am I going with this?
These other poets and I aren’t in the same boat
I like to think… sometimes I float
Other times I sink
Then resurface again to let these feelings pour… let them rain
Down on the page
Feelings of happiness, sometimes rage
Sometimes love, sometimes ‘lost’
Because I’ve loved and I’ve lost
But I’m content, at most
With this relationship right here… my poetry and I
While others will wither and die… my faithful flower blossoms
And I will accept her… and her sweet call
Her nectar
Entices me way too easily
Satisfaction to this busy bee
Inconsistently consistent? Maybe…
But the poetry is real
And the inspiration… persistent.

Okay
I know… I know
I know that I hurt her… and she isn’t the first
She wants me and I want her
And this feels different from lust
But I know that I hurt her…
Broken heart reattached?
Can that happen? And if so… Can I stop being so detached?
I’m really not sure, I have tried that before
I don’t see myself getting over this bad habit in a hurry… not that fast
Sadly, not that fast... if I do it will be slow
It’s as a result of everything… The future, the present, the past
Still I know that I’ve hurt her… oh, believe me I know
She doesn’t deserve this, she cares… but she’s not the first girl I happen to have made tear before
But it’s kind of unfair too for me to be stuck in between…
“Are you going to play this macho *******? Do you want to be alone?”… And “Are you going to let me in?”
Sometimes you see, I hurt too… In fact one could say I’m pain prone
But I have my process, which usually involves being alone
It’s just what I’m about
It’s just how I was built
I’m not trying to shut her out, or to haunt her with guilt
I’m emotionally damaged; numb… a lot of nerve endings killed
Understand
It’s not pity I want; it’s in the past see
The milk has already been spilled.

If I were to die today
Well, what can I say?
I'd simply be dead
To overthink, is to lose your way
It ain't just all about... street cred'... flashy clothing... and being overfed
One needs to find a balance, be it at the brim
He who adds no value to your life, is the one that you trim
Off, and lose touch with
Or not associate too much with
Do not take life too seriously
I know that  I will die too, curiously...
I feel nothing even remotely close to fear
Suprise me death
You could be far... but then again
You might just be near.

You can’t stop me
You can’t
You picked me, shook me up all over the place and attempted to drop me
You couldn't… and still can’t
I’m a genius… **** it!
Even I have tried to explain how I do this creativity thing
…I couldn't
And still can’t
You’re probably thinking “Nigel! Modesty… keep it modest!”
My reply “modesty’s overrated, I will take it there!”
“You wouldn’t!”
“Oh, but I want…”
You see, I’ve always had controversy embedded in me
Actually scratch that… one could say controversy has been me
That friend by my side, always willing to ride
Flipping off these childish fears
Reaching into my big book of bad ideas
And they had to give me this poetic skill
A blade that cuts deep… a blade that I’ve been sharpening for years
And didn't even know it
The ‘bomb’ like those Al Shabastards
Boom! Blow it
You can’t walk away from this, if you lose a limb
Yes I took it there
Like a back hand to the universe asking “who’s your ****?”
Call me daddy
Dress like a gentleman, but underneath all this
I’m simply just bad…. Buddy.

This is a gamble
Yes, I’m playing ‘words’
Life can turn out to be such a shamble
That makes the playing hard
Some have more excitement than others…
But we are still playing the same odds
We have been explained to the truth
But not necessarily in the same words
If you happened to realize that you had fulfilled your purpose, would you request an honourable death?
Or find a second calling?
Would you cash in your chips?
Or have another go at it?
Another go… again
All in?
Sometimes one needs to just take the leap
Thinking twice could just be an excuse to keep stalling
Taking the leap and ascending to a higher level, or thinking…
‘At least I tried… I am content with that fact, despite the fact that I’m falling’
Either way, one cannot have another ‘today’
Another ‘now’
Another ‘present’
Appreciate it today
Appreciate it now
Heard this in a movie once…
‘Now is a gift, that’s why they call it the present’
These come in no order or rehearsed flair
I’m gambling… I’m playing ‘words’
With my thoughts most recent
Yes, I dare.

Here I stand
An example of resilience
A fine example of exemplary brilliance
If I do say so myself
I’m still working on this journey I tell you
I’ve been working on it for a while
I’ve been practicing, losing balance… losing hope, getting back on that horse and perfecting my style
I wouldn’t write it if it wasn’t true
I wouldn’t be writing this if it wasn’t for you
Beloved reader
You called it infectious… though it wasn’t ‘flu’
The way I write
In situations dark
The way I ‘light’
You’re my ray of hope in this long tunnel
That keeps getting steeper through some hill
But the only elevation I feel is that of my emancipation
When we make it out… yes, when ‘we’ make it out, and you know we will
The only elevation will be that of our hands in celebration.

He couldn’t run any further, his legs had given out. Breathing was proving to be a task, he gasped for air but couldn’t fill his lungs with it fast enough. It was over.
   Michael’s brother followed behind him, also exhausted.  They had been running for the most part of the night, people were not designed to have this much endurance. It was finished.
   ‘Michael…’ Lawrence called out from behind him, ‘Michael… we have to rest.’ He sounded as beat as he looked. This was quite an unpleasant crux they had gotten themselves into, and his brother was not going to like what he was going to say next.
   ‘Lawrence, we cannot afford to. They are still on our tail, we have to keep moving.’ He said.
   ‘But I can’t…’
   ‘You have to. Now let’s go!’ He cut his brother off firmly and struggled on. Lawrence had no choice but to keep up. A stumble, a limp and he regained his stamina, or what was left of it, to keep jogging.
   They could hear the primitive cries of the head hunters in the distance. Not close enough to be seen, but definitely close enough to be heard. This gave the two renewed strength, they quickened their pace. They were almost there. Just a few more paces and…
   Lawrence fell. Michael turned to see his brother writhing on the ground, blood spurting out of the spot where an arrow had lodged itself at the back of his neck. His eyes were wide open as he choked on his own blood, Michael felt a chill run down his spine despite the fact that there was a humidity in the air that made the shirt he had on stick to his sweaty back. He looked up, the beach seemed deserted, there was no one in sight. Yet someone had to have shot that arrow. They had gone quiet now, wherever they were, and he got the feeling he was being stalked like prey. He was.
   He took one last look at his brother and swallowed, or attempted to. The lump in his throat was too painful to swallow, he had been unable to voice anything… his shock, his anger, his pain. All his mind could comprehend was the sight of his sibling’s lifeless body on the sand before him. He shot off in a sprint.
   They were on his scent. He felt them behind him, still out of sight he was sure, though he didn't dare turn around. But they were definitely there. His bare feet disturbing the flat sandy surface as he got closer to the water… he was almost there.
   He felt his rib cage crack and then give way as the arrow broke through it from behind and punctured his left lung, shattering its way through the front and just peeking out of his chest. He felt himself collapse and hit the water. He could taste its saltiness, and then he could taste his own blood. The pounding footsteps got closer. This was it. It was finished.
   Then, just as he was about to give up he heard the first gunshot. Hope…

I have thoughts that can provoke
Thoughts that once expressed, which they usually are, I do not revoke
Thoughts that I jotted down, thoughts that I sang aloud… thoughts that I spoke
I have thoughts
That life provokes
I have them for they are a necessary part of who I am, like a bicycle rim… and spokes
Thoughts that dance around in my mind
Thoughts that remind…
Me of lessons forgotten
Lessons learned… but disappeared into the dust I left in my wake as I sped through life
I have these to keep me company
I have them to keep me warm
I have them and accept them, I don't want to doubt them or ask ‘why?’
Through rain… in a storm
These thoughts would keep me dry
They provide me the shelter that I need
So that I am not running about helter-skelter
I have said it before, they course through my veins
Therefore when I express them I do not just speak them, sing them, or write them down
I bleed
These…
Thoughts
Like I am doing…
Right now.

Detached, heartless

Cold

Reattached, 'Jah bless'

Bold

Full speed ahead

Clear view

Wipers, windshield

Can't work with the rear view... mirror

I write, **** them dead

Killer

Let them say "Dude, the verse... you murdered it!"

'Ill'er'

But still I... wonder if they got the message

Wonder whether or not they feel 'I'

Whether or not they got what I wrote

Do they think of me as the 'blacksmith' that hit the iron 'while its hot'...

Or not?

Write up a sword, Wordsmith... real thought

Pulling at my mind from both sides

Really taught

In their hearts, will they reserve a spot...

For that which us poets wrote?

Or for the messages they feel we brought...

Forth?

Did we succeed in pointing their moral compass upwards... north?

It would be disappointing if they read, moved on and forgot

For we aim to provoke thought

Intelligence is put to better use when wisdom is sought

Against the odds, we've fought

Expressive vigilance was sold to us... we bought

Free as the winds... set sail our boat

On a sea where storms are rife

We chose to stay afloat

Stay true

So if you're still reading thank you, for giving me a few minutes of your life.

Music to my ears
Napkin to my tears
Shoulder to my lean
Through an exhaustingly long swim… resting Island in between
He is...
Salvation from my sin
That’s my Lord

Courage to my fears
Wisdom among my peers
Keeps me focused, keen
Opened my eyes to all that I’ve seen
He is...
My backbone… He is my spleen
That’s my Lord

And so I cannot afford
To give up on Him
Lest he returns the favour
And gives up on me
And I need Him… my savior
I was always flattered though, by the fact that He needs me too
To fulfill my purpose… my part in His plan
I could be replaced, I know
But for some reason I keep getting other chances… He keeps forgiving me some more
It makes me feel special, like for an important role to play
I am wanted
I have to be careful though, not to cross the line…
And take him for granted
To lose a father, a friend and a guide
I simply cannot afford
So, no matter how many times I slip up
I will still pick myself up, dust myself off, look to the sky and say…
“I will stick with Him because He is my Lord.”

It’s one of those things
When you really don’t know what you want
When you try to stay out of the game and watch from the sidelines, but you can’t
When relationships ****
But companionship makes sense
When every person you’re with is amazing and intense
But not enough
Something’s missing
When you’re tired of the monotony
When you’re just done
When there are a lot of choices
But you choose none
Because it’s all the same… what happened to uniqueness?
What happened to that mushy feeling?
We’ve become robots, no feelings, emotions peeling
We can’t differentiate between what we do and what we want
We’ve become a heartless people
But I have faith… a little
That our level of heartlessness varies
We’re not that equal
So for some of us there’s still hope
And for the rest it’s a slippery *****
Downhill…
When you realize how far down you have gotten
And stop trying to grasp onto stuff
I’ll meet you at the bottom.

Just like most Christians
I believe in the Bible
I won’t know when the world ends, but when it does
For my sins, only I will be liable
The Apocalypse will sneak up on us in a sense
It will sneak up and flip our lives upside down… That’s intense
Intensity in a lot more than ten cities
Then money becomes just paper, no awe at the sky scraper
And all in an instant, a fate that seemed distant
A fate that you blew off, becomes so significant
How come we’re not cautious of such horrors atrocious?
It seems we got born… and from our ‘morals’ got torn
We live and we sin… Though He’s not surprised
He knows what we are all capable of…
Good and bad
No shock in His eyes
But I sit back and ponder… I wonder sometimes
Am I predominantly good or bad?
How do I appear through those eyes?
I don’t fret about ‘The End’ so much… you see, everyone dies
We all have our views and beliefs… even the atheist his
I’m in no position to judge him… I just live mine, and await my surprise
But sometimes I wonder, just a bit… but I do
What if the Mayan’s prediction of the last days is true?

"Fatma Hemed Hanzwan"
Yep... yep... Hemed, that's one
Way to refer to yourself
By name
But then again, there aren't  any particular rules
To this game... called 'life'
Society elevates you to a level of 'cool', by bestowing upon you a nickname
What's your's?
I wonder...
Then you may adopt a man's last name, when you become his wife
There aren't any particular rules to this game called 'life'
"Why do I say that?" you may ask
See, life can be a pleasure... or a task
Depending on whether you sway with the crowd every 'all of a sudden'
Or decide to independently walk down the path less trodden
Upon
Tough one?
My point is...
You need not be defined by that which you answer to
Define your own self and identity...
Assert 'you'
Once you've thought freely, you've let go and such
Fatma Hemed Hanzwan
Few names I've come across sound as beautiful as that.

Self education is key
Reputation is 'me'
Has little to do with 'we'
Influenced more by what's going on inside, as opposed to 'around' me
These experiences we go through
Pleasant... or unpleasant
These extreme lengths we go to
To survive
Camel in harsh desert
Just inspire our stories
To evolve into legend
For true travellers journey
They know nothing about 'dead ends'
so...
The next time you think you know somebody well enough to discuss him
Remember,the only one that knows him that well...
Is just 'Him'.

It is written
That there shall come a time when all the great poets shall be heard
It is written... by me

It is written
That there shall come a time when all the greats shall achieve their destinies
It is written... by me

It is also written
That their messages shall reach all... by air, by land
And by sea

Patience young poet, it is worth the wait
Have some faith
Think of that which you have put on paper throughout the years
Think back and appreciate your unique and creative ability to express yourself
And be proud of you
Be proud of that which you do
Young poet
You are a legend
And you know it
Ambitous young poet
It is your world
You own it
Let no one tell you otherwise
One word separates you from the others... 'wise'
This, young poet you need to realize
Work on your art
Don't compromise
Let the words express the passion they see in your eyes
Young poet
I understand and can relate with you
Young poet
Know that it is genius because you wrote it
You are a lion, not a kitten
Stand up and roar, and if they ask you why you are doing it
Tell them 'it is written'.

Sometimes I don’t write for a while
And I feel like I have betrayed someone… myself?
But when I come back I don’t try to search for a style
For I still feel like I am that same someone… myself
That friend, that poetic friend in my head
Schizophrenic? Maybe, but I’m keeping this voice here until I’m dead
It speaks volumes… I’ve missed it
When it peaks like the tallest sand dunes… like the sun, I can say ‘I’ve kissed it’
For I love the voice in my head, ‘in love’ I dare say
And no matter how long we may be parted
We are still together in a weird way
We’ve been through a lot, my voice and I
We’ve mesmerized them with wordplay
We’ve delved into hip hop and befriended the pen, both poetic in their own way
And came back with a ten point five out of ten
In July, on this eleventh day.

Uhuru Kenyatta... entertaining, eloquent... and we all know he smokes ****... did not vote for him, but I congratulate him and I'm excited about the idea of having him as my president for the next five years.

Cheers Uheezy...

I heard Him say…
“I do not favour anyone above everybody else, I favour everyone the same.”
And had to share it with you.

They say "The conspiracy theory is... "

I say "The conspiracy is... "

They try to downplay it

I see it

They say people are just talking crazy... well, maybe we are

But I can smell their *******

I smell it from afar

It starts small, this conspiracy thing... right in our back yard

A fallacy called 'freedom', they dictate quite hard

Alot do not see it though

Or chose not to do so

Ignore a wet floor, you will only slip again

And bruise more

Maybe I'm eccentric

But I just could be right

Secretive society, with secret societies

Incognito, they operate

Like shadows in the night

We have the local equivalent

Then

Cross over our border

We see suits pushing forward

For a 'new world order'

When?

Nobody wants this but them

In my opinion that is...

In a nutshell "**** them!".

She is a beauty
No other way to put it... just four words
And she knows it
We know she knows
We blame... that reflection in the mirror she owns
She is a gem
The sort of lady you try to introduce yourself to...
And fail to remember your name
But 'life' took that beauty... and held it out of your reach
We all know that situation... I can hear the men shout "PREACH!"
That branch that's just higher than you can stretch... caressing your finger tips
Hanging from it is something sweet, delectable
Peach
I don't mean that literally though... these are just semantics
Though its a case of "out of sight, out of mind"... some nonchelant antics
She's the type to make you wish you could press on 'rewind'
And do it all over again...
You don't really care... but you do
So its complicated, intertwined
Then again, its never that serious
You just took a trip through a 'sprung' guy's mind.

I have seen ‘life’… and ‘life’ has become me
I have seen death, well… close enough
And these experiences too have become me
A part of me
A part of who I am
A part of who I used to be
The past and the future collide… at the present
I have had times when I was scared
I have had times at which I stood up to the challenge when I was dared
I am not perfect… I’m just a man
A man destined and expected to always be able to take a stand
Even when he’s down, to stand tall… proud peasant
You need to understand…
Every other man’s shoes are difficult to walk a mile in
So respect my journey as I overcome all these obstacles and head for the ‘Promised Land’
With questions in my mind like…
If I am not ‘holy’…
Then what am I… ‘sin’?
Questions unanswered… questions asked
Responsibilities not asked for… responsibilities tasked
Some decisions are a risk… such a risk they are
But that is why the one that retained the Status quo… and he that took that risk
Today, are not at par.

What if I was brought here to serve a higher purpose?
I mean, higher than I previously imagined?
To stay away from all the substances I indulge in?
To live as pure as my purpose?
Quite sure I know what I’m supposed to be…
Probably
Do I have faith in abundance, or do I have it in surplus?
Will I change?
And if so, how much?
Epiphanies tend to make us feel like we didn't know much…
Before they hit us
Reality check, life reminder
Instinctively bares all… ‘Au natural’
Reminder that your destiny is supernatural
Purpose of life
Hard to forsake it… why?
It’s your destiny… I mean, isn't it the reason you were born after all?