The weightless man

‘the weightless man’

I used to think money was synonymous with power.
I used to think walking away was being a coward
I used to think space and time were only inches and hours… I used to think too much, and realised to little… I realised brittle, foundations will topple even the tallest towers
I realised letting go will surely see your soul scoured
I realised i was made by, and for this world
The way a tree makes a flower
Created to create, to blossom into somthing great, before i fade away again, back into time and space… I used to think, until i started to realise, now i can be…

Dead cells

I’ve been asking people to follow me, as if I’m not lost… I’ve been looking for love, and validation…only getting likes, and eventual frustration.

I’ve let people into my world, and played host, but I’ve been trying to share more than just a post.

I’ve been trying to find myself in a selfie, all these different angles, but which one is the ‘best me’? 600 people viewed my story, and zero of them know my story. I’ve been serving my ego looking for glory… Trying to be real on a platform that isn’t. The Irony.
Ive made some real connections, and I do truly appreciate all the support Ive got.
But my batteries about to die, so like… now what?

My best nightmare

She said run chidi, run! Don’t look back for things you missed, or things you miss…never stop chasing your bliss, but remember this, now the world is in your hands, so please don’t make a fist… And then I woke up SWEATING

Burning bushes

I saw bushes burning and they spoke to me…

Am I a bushman that strayed too far from his Bush, have I simply burnt myself out? or was I burnt out of my bushes and chased away…

My side burns and afro were far too bushy, “keep it professional” they say… And I felt the burn

I used to burn bushes just to see straight… As I watched the Bushes and Obamas burn the bushes down, oppression in the guise of freedom… Had me feeling like I might as well live in a Bush, and just watch the world burn…

But I saw bushes burning and they spoke to me.

Kind stranger

She was a kind stranger, I had never met anything of the kind, or anyone stranger…

To some she was lazy, and a coward… To me she was bravery and power.

To me she was sweet, so some she was sour…

She she told me she didn’t care about them, or me, she said she was only there to smell the flowers…

So some she was a freak, to me she was so unique

Into inifity

In her womb life started
In her eyes pain ended
Lines of her life story, and all the things she has faced, permanently etched on her face, a sage, that kept getting wiser with age… An antique, with colours that didn’t fade.
Even when her blacks turned to greys, what was gold remained the same…

Life is too short, I know that much is true… And we all must move on when our time here is due, We came from inifity, to experience this vicinity… And i do believe we’re only passing through

Warrior spirit

Neither a coward with her actions nor her words, she was well aware freedom sometimes seemed absurd…she tried to be the right balance of humble and proud…calm but full of life, poised while her heart beat loud.

The warrior spirit, her soul focused on the top, a peaceful fighter who gave everything, except up. Persistence personified, she was a force you could not, would not even want to stop.
She was the courage to ask for more, and the bravery to stand for freedom.

She was the legend she had written with her own wisdom


Je demande à mon coeur pourquoi il bat
J’ai demandé à mon esprit où est ce qu’il va?
Je demande à pieds de me porter quand ils voulaient y aller
en espérant que je pourrai me trouver là bas

I wrote this poem in french as it was inspired by the magical year I spent living on the island of Martinique. (where I happened to learn French) I hope it makes sense haha. The poem is also called madininah another name for Martinique which translates to ‘Island of flowers’