Planes may soar elegantly in the sky, hybrid cars glide proudly as polution is at a plight , but at the end of the day, the wind whistles loneliness as a tumbleweed rolls by.  

Her heart is sore, When it rains it pours, Rebecca’s anxiety reaches its peak, as death knocked at her door.

He’s been gone for a year now and it’s finally starting to sink in, “oh why didn’t I visit him more”, “why didn’t I pop in”.

Forever missing his witty inappropriate jokes with perfect timing, missing his caring heart, the love he shared was blinding.

Rebecca doesn’t know how she will cope, hope is soon to be slain, sitting next to his grave on the grass soaking in the rain, she wonders if she will ever experience happiness again.      

Planes may soar elegantly in the sky, hybrid cars glide proudly as polution is at a plight , but at the end of the day, the wind whistles loneliness as tumbleweeds rolls by.




All these years and I still feel empty without your warm embrace.

Who knew that a hug was so powerful.

My back feels hollow, it feels like I lost a part of me.

Wherever I go, whatever the temperature, I wear a coat to temporarily comfort the ice covered hole you left in my back.

It yearns for the tender touch of your fingertips only.

The scars from the ice burns on the back of my neck, are impatiently waiting for the cordial tip toe of your breathe and the healing pierce of your lips.

For you there will always be a dent on my shoulder for your head to rest.

As cheesy as it sounds, my heart is forever locked because your heart is the key.

Everyday I’m wishing that you will come back, give me a hug and set my heart free.

– Teags


I am working on myself, trying to overcome my obstacles on my own and I have come very far from where I was, even though I know I have a long way to go. Despite how far I have come, the feeling of invisibility is something I have had to deal with most of my life and is something I am still battling with. As nervous as I feel, I am sharing this feeling with the world for the first time.

Curvaceous slice carved into my temple,

You C right through me

My temple merges into yours

Clothes to flesh, flesh to clothes

You see right through me

It was a simple enough mistake,

I never wear my heart on my sleeve

Don’t worry I understand,

Chameleon ways never stray.


Vibrations surf through air particles

But fail to play on your ear drums

You cannot hear me

I press send but the characters become deconstructed,

morph into a virus

Your synapses are weakened

You cannot hear me .


Feeling like Heaven is a flight away

and the morgue is home

Reactionary suicide

A part of the walking dead

In practice it’s there

But in theory my pulse is nonexistent

The consumption of invisibility that I face

Is something I can no longer bear

It would be nice to be able to see my reflection in the waters of life again.

– Teags

P.S. ‘Reactionary Suicide’ is a theory from Black Panther Party founder Dr. Huey P. Newton, (R.I.P) in his 1973 autobiography Revolutionary Suicide. I would definitely recommend it if you are interested in a in depth story of the Black Panthers and not what the media would have you believe, or even if you’re just someone who likes biographies.


When did trying become, trying too hard

When did wanting and needing become so segregated

When did love and hate became so indistinguishable

Why does play mean work

Why does peace now symbolize war

When did opinions become facts

My world does not any make sense anymore

But I don’t know why

And I don’t remember how I got here

I wish I could start over.

– Teags

P.S. When I wrote this I had the album “Drunk” by Thundercat on repeat, so when I see this piece, I automatically play “Where I’m going” by Thundercat in my head. It really suits the tone of the piece and the head space I was in at the time.

Writer’s Block

This is something I randomly wrote to myself, whilst experiencing writers block, hence the title. Just thought I would share it. On this Blog, I am sharing things that I have written but kept to myself and anything new that I write. I write as I find it therapeutic, it helps when I am feeling low or worried. This was inspired by Tupac Shakur’s concept of the rose that grew from the concrete.

I don’t know what to write,”writer’s block”, they call it.

Flowers in the mist arising from the concrete grasping for a spec of light,

screaming to the moon pick me pick me,

stems barely strong enough to hold their petals up in place,

CO2 scars on their face,

burns from the acid rain,

the acid rain,

the acid rain,

excruciating pain,

love in a drop and hate in a bunch,

but they survive,

the mist is over,

it was never here,

all in the mind,

fear Fear FEAR!


A Thought of Freedom

I find freedom in my oasis

My oasis stems in the concept of acceptance.

Where my nose is unapologetically wide

Where my hair naturally defies gravity

Where orange hues of my bronze skin confidently glows in the sunlight

Where everyday I swim in the waters of the roaring sounds of soul, jazz, hip hop and reggae

My oasis cleanses and purifies the sufferings and sins of my spirit

In oasis my heart breathes love and sings the spirituals of freedom

Most importantly, in my oasis no one has to be reminded of their African power because it’s never feared or under attack.
– Teags