Not letting inconvenience ruin the beauty of life.

I met a man in Shoreditch. He watched me photograph his vandalised military then queried me on my intentions. We ended up speaking at length about art and vandalism. This man had owned this military truck since 1978. It wasn’t functioning when he brought it. He put time effort and energy into making it work. He cleaned it, repaired it, and restored it. His family enjoys riding in it. He enjoys driving it more so than any modern car. The truck had in his eyes become a work of art only to be constantly defaced, cleaned then defaced again. Now in London, especially Shoreditch, graffiti tourism is used by the police as an excuse to not do anything about vandalism. Vandalism is hurting residents and businesses who will pay countless times to remove the damage only to have their property defaced shortly after. Artists are having their works painted over in a matter of days. Sometimes what is done is beautiful and that leaves me feeling conflicted. Unfortunately, art is losing the battle a...

I was once told there is a devil who makes you feel bold And an angel perched on your shoulder As I grew older, I leaned towards the devil Never tried to wrestle with his opinion As my mind was just his dominion The angel became quiet and reserved Scared to speak up and preserve my mental state One day it dawned on me, a new theory This angel and devil only emulate I realized the only man speaking to me Was just my worst part I’d cut out the kindness and the heart I now realize the man on my back Only knew how to criticize All he could do was attack Because that’s what I told him I’m useless, stupid, unattractive Nobody should give me a chance I’m not proactive nor active You can tell at first glance I’m a mess I said I can’t do anything He listened, took it all on board Like training a parrot I went overboard with rude phrases If I’d have thrown in some praises too It could have been different The man in the mirror now that’s not you It is someone who can never love you Old habits are...

I'm sorry, I mumbled, as they walked into me I'm sorry, I shouldn't have been there I'm sorry, I just couldn't see I'm sorry, I wasn't all too aware I'm sorry for existing I've been a bit too much, I'm sorry I didn't want your touch, I'm sorry There's just a lot going on, I'm sorry I'm feeling withdrawn, I'm sorry I'm sorry for existing I'm sorry, you should take my seat I'm sorry, you should go first I'm sorry, your trying to be sweet I'm sorry, you see me at my worst I'm sorry for existing Sorry for being sad Sorry for taking up space Sorry for not looking at you Sorry for constantly asking how you’re doing Sorry for not being present I know you're not mad I do want your embrace I do love your face I do want to stare into your eyes I'm sorry My mind is telling me lies I don't apologise because I'm sorry I do it because I worry That one day our love will cease to be cheery You'l...

Sitting by the glass In the rains embrace Staring at the grass Dreaming of another place But even though I’d rather be with you I know there’s still work to do Taking pen to sheet All these thoughts racing out But it just feels incomplete I’m trapped by self-doubt Because even though I know There’s lots of work to do I’d love a cup of espresso And an afternoon with you A wave of warmth comes Almost like an embrace Feels like a warmth in my lungs I’m just imagining your face When you read this verse There’s still work to do I love to converse With myself about you

Every day is full of moments fleeting. How will I know I've found the right one. Only the times when my heart is beating. Looking to exist when the day has begun. We live in them as a rule of thumb. Or we get lost in times gone by. Each moment is what our lives become. The present is so difficult to quantify. Are we living in the moment? Always though we had been. Time is our endless opponent. The past and the future? We're stuck in between.

We just don’t mix together, Like photography and poetry. The choreography of a picture is often confusing, I’d spend a lot of time musing about colours and lines to no avail. But you’ve always had a skilful disposition when holding camera. I’d wonder if it’s was wilful that you’d always think of composition. Photography remains a mystery to me. It’s buried in a beautiful history Bound by the need to capture every moment, Where each component builds towards a memory. You’d say photos are like a story, That the environment speaks through the frame. But it doesn’t have to be auditory, Any tale you see is fair game. Writing poetry is pretty distinct, Poems and emotions have always been linked. I try my best to write from the heart If the words are full of meaning does it become art? Normally a poem provides a feeling. Sometimes they can sound appealing. I found the best ones can be revealing. I’d be teeming with ideas one second, Thinking better of them the next. Inspiration comes to those...