Oh mummy, I’m on my way home, tell dad I did him proud, that’s why I wrote this poem. Oh mummy, I can’t wait to be back, my mind has seen such war and they killed my friend Jack. Oh mummy, I can’t wash away the blood, I feel it every day and it squelches … More Oh Mummy.
I don’t know how to start this. How do you write something like this? I wish there was a simple way. A way to say, ‘I’m sorry for what happened’, without sounding as distant as the moon. Maybe it’s too soon to talk about this, but then I can’t miss this time. I wonder how … More We can Never Forget what They saw. (Spoken Word)
The amount of negativity on this video and the people who criticise it… what are you doing to spread the love? … More #Wheresthelove?
It was never glorious when they fought in the dirt, and died on the fields. When mothers heard of death, and fathers didn’t return home. It was never glorious when children ran from bombs, and slept scared at night. The war was real, but we see it now as a glorious time. We romanticise the … More It was Never Glorious (Spoken Word).
I recently went to an air show, to be precise the RAF Air Tatoo. Sure, it was amazing to see all the different planes and helicopters but it really had me thinking. The RAF took time to show off the army planes etc, and I felt uneasy watching these displays. There was a display where … More Air Shows- An Opinion Piece.