Talking to trees

birthday gifts

2012-02-07T02:19:00.000-08:00

Ok yes, I am probably crazy, but a part of this year's growing process is to make some birthday gifts. Not all. Just some. At least 24 (which is 2 a month, which isn't so bad, depending on the actual gift to be made).

Anyway, January's gifts have been made:

Exhibit 1

Mosaic Potholders x2

They came out rather well, although the photographs don't do them justice. I tried to fit in with the recipients home decor, but also keeping it rather neutral for use should things change. The tiling took longer than I expected, but it wasn't the hardest thing I have ever made. Since the painting on the bottom was in black, it went very quickly and did not require as many layers of paint or varnish.

Exhibit 2

Mosaic Box

This little box was only mosaiced on the lid and that did not take too long. The painting took a bit longer than I thought it would, as a few layers were required and then I still had to varnish it as well. Again a few layers. But it ended up great and the recipient loved it. I had this nasty suspicion that her favourite colour is blue, and I was planning a box accordingly, but as you can see, the box decided differently and I just went with the flow. Turned out divinely, as things tend to.

These were all finished off by the 21st and I loved handing over something that took MY time, My creativity and MY love to produce, and not just my money.

Next up: I will be making 2 little boxes, one for Erin and one for my half sister (the other one also gets one, but her birthday is in July, but I might just make them altogether in one go).

goals; desires

2012-01-10T15:00:00.001-08:00

The question looms yet silence reigns.
What should the answer be?
Could you be that selfish, or should you share?
But you need to know your heart's desire...

Maybe it is simple:
Time
Space

Time to call your own;
Time to finish what you started;
Time to be all that you could.

Space to call your own;
Space to finish what you started;
Space to grow as you would.

Or it can be more complex:
A million dollars
To be the best

Now open up your mouth to speak
but be sure about the answer;
Whether cliche or obscure
make sure it gives you all you wanted.

ideal

2012-01-10T15:00:00.000-08:00

Beauty cannot be touched;
Porcelain's not made for kids.
Place it perfectly on its pedestal
where it can't be reached.

Kneeling deep and feeling blistered
both reflections fail to see
that when things turn out to be ideal
you can't manifest the dream.

peace

2011-12-02T04:11:00.001-08:00

the heat breaks
the sky falls
peace surrenders
letting joy find a way
along the weather beaten path

brea... the

the clouds visit
the earth sings
relief remembers
the words to the song
that hearts sing all along

so... hum

coddled insanity

2011-07-15T02:15:00.000-07:00

Stepping into freedom,
and worn out recognition,
like the path well trodden
and the voice that's always heard,
like the deep crevices of a winter duvet
and the sweet sweet warmth
of the perfect cup of tea.

Here there is denial
and things magically pressed down.
Here there is perfection
and a world that's all my own.
Here has a little closet
in which I store my heart,
a place where hurt can't touch it
while it waits for perfect love.

mother

2011-07-09T09:31:00.001-07:00

Strong as mountains,
fragile as the flakes of snow.
Her way is the ebb and flow.
Her laughter carries on the sunrise,
her heart beats in the forests.
She sighs,
she sheds a silent tear
and the city turns to shreds.
Guiding.
Hoping.
Gently swaying.
Blinking as an eon passes by
and the offspring finally finds
a path to home.

the process

2011-07-04T07:04:00.000-07:00

Things flow into nothing
Nothing becomes so much
Flitting over the ways of heart
Dabbling more in ways to touch
Finding where the reason lies
Where the soul remembers who
For a moment this is as it should
And things get done for good

lotus painting

2011-06-24T01:26:00.000-07:00

This is a project that I started in 2009, when I was pregnant with Guppy. My intention was to make a series of 7 paintings, one relating to each chakra of which the gold (yellow) lotus would be for my crown chakra. I never got to finish the project though and even this one painting was done very fast. Ever since it has been moved around the house according to the space where it would irritate me the least.

Until I decided to untangle myself.

The amazing thing about this whole project that suddenly I had an hour to spare every evening (at least). And since part of the whole project was that I had to finish all my projects in order to free up the clutter (without losing money), I decided that this painting needed to be finished.

** An artist once told me that no painting is ever a failure, it is simply not finished yet. She was right in so many ways. **

And this is what resulted from that make over:

Again I will say, not too shabby. Of course the photo does not do it complete justice, there is a lot more white and the idea in reality conveys much more of the touched-by-sunlight feeling that I was going for, but you get the gist.

I have already started on my second project (the lotus only kept me busy for 3 nights). In between I am also doing a large amount of Mandalas, which is helping to facilitate the creative process.

what I have been up to

2011-06-23T00:36:00.000-07:00

Firstly, I found a wonderful method of just getting the junk out of your head. It is called a Mandala, and basically it is just a circle doodle.

So, just to give a little bit of background: Mandala is the Sanskrit word for circle, and although they are mainly a Buddhist practise today, they have been found in every culture and religion around the world.

The circle is seen as eternal, no beginning and no end, or constant beginning and constant end, depending on how you wish to see things in this moment. The ritual of making or drawing a Mandala invites you to meditate and just let your mind wander as your hands start moving and drawing whatever it finds in your heart.

And this is also, for me, the essence of being creative. It is much less about the product that is produced, or even the quality of the product. In truth, being creative allows you to connect with that aspect of yourself that is divine (Creator creates humans in Her image, therefore we all have the soul desire to create).

When you create ... just about anything, you allow your hands to do and your mind a chance to dump all the excess baggage that it is carrying with it. More often than not, the method in which you create will allow you therapy on a sub-consious level. True creativity has very little to do with your mind, save perhaps the messages that are sent to your hands to move here or there, or that you are indeed holding the blue paint and not the yellow.

All creativity involves a manner of meditation, stilling the mind and letting the movement take over, becoming present and finding yourself in the moment, NOW.

Mandalas is just an ancient ritualistic manner of doing this, but you can find it in any form that you desire. Having said this, always remember that in this life there is no such thing as 'one size fits all'. There is a means and a method that will better suit each and every one of us, and you don't have to like the same thing that I do, be a pro at it to enjoy it, or even start off in the same manner that I do.

So here is my very first Mandala that I drew in our class (which my mom arranged as part of her birthday celebration):

Not so sure anymore which side is up and which is down anymore, but this I did realise of myself after drawing the class:
- I am on an intense path of internal growth down various pathways.
- I have a desire to draw outside the lines, without ever doing it in a way that seems disconcerting.
- Despite this desire to draw outside the lines, I find it very hard to do so.
- There is a space within me that is made of, well, space and silence.

Part of the exercises was to write a word on a card and pass it on to the person next to us. That was the word that we would then have to focus on while we did the Mandala. My word was love, and although I intended to focus on it, I completely zoned out while doing the Mandala itself.

Afterwards though, I started doodling around the word on the card itself and this is what came of that:

While I don't think this is at all shabby, it is nothing compared to some of the Mandalas that are worked in complete ritualistic fashion by the monks of various religious institutions. (google Mandala images and have a look at some of the amazing creations that have been produced). Of course in the Western world we do it in paint and in pen because we need to make everything permanent and keep it forever, but in Buddhist tradition, where the idea of impermanence is fundamental, they make it with coloured sand. Afterwards all the sand is gathered together and small packages thereof handed to the people.

I hope that you have your own method of creating that allows you to still your mind and dump the baggage that you are carrying around with you.

Finding F's

2011-05-27T02:25:00.000-07:00

May I speak frankly please?
I think I will in any case....

This fetish that you have
(with friction and with force)
no longer appeals to me,
no longer is my fix.
Such fickleness does not appeal,
always constructing a federal case.
Such drama filled with flare and frills
to hide away true face.
Your fists are always raised,
your furnace always stoked,
I never learned that live was fun
but find it now a festival
because I decide to make it so.

No longer will I be flogged by you
or help you weave your fable.
For we have failed to be
all that we once fostered.
All that remains now are fragments
of a fierce and fragile dream.
Relationships are frail, to say the very least,
and when flames of others are forbidden,
it is always fate to frizzle.
Featured and designed to be so fond of you,
I flinched from force too often,
and after all the fervent effort
I find it easy to face farewell.
No longer am I a fan
of what you fancy as a life
this fearsome need to force and fence,
to fill and fraught with fear.

(Who can argue with a word like fraught?)

Forgiveness is not required,
nor a need to claim the fault.
Life can only be alive, my fate, my own
when I'm no longer part of your parade.
May you find your future fertile
and may you feast on what you favour.
And may we find each other once again,
each enfolded in our fashion.

***

Another prompt from Jenny Matlock: Alphabe-Thursday Letter F. I loved this prompt! I decided not to go for any single F-word, but rather to look for as many as I could find. Then I selected the words that resonated most with me and made sentences with those words, whatever popped into my head. Finally, I took all the sentences and made them into this here post. It might seem a little forced, I'm sure, but it was great fun to do and such a vocab extender! A simple must-do exercise for all writers out there, just to remind yourself of all the fabulous words that are often forgotten.

ALSO - just as a little side note, please visit my other blog, Journey keeper. More specifically, visit yesterday's post, reflections in the mirror. It is not, as you might be thinking, another post on the prompt supplied by Jenny Matlock and as I did in this blog. Nope. It is in fact a short piece on why I love prompts. So if you have the time and the inclination, please surf on over and have a look.

reflection in the mirror

2011-05-26T03:34:00.000-07:00

#1

You!
Who would sell
herself for comfort,
(or was it give away?)
who would choose
against your grain.
You!
Who made those choices
of comfort and of duty,
who left behind
-heart -soul -sanity
for misfounded trust;
a blatant dis belief.
You.
Who are you again?
Who has no voice?
Who played survivor
and won.
What do you do now?
Still pregnant with expectations
of getting better soon.
Blood is no guarentee,
you
know.
You.
Yes.
Me.

word count: 77

#2

Don't look at me that way.
Don't tell me I was wrong.
What I selected long ago,
was the path I had to go.
In your world it is otherwise.
Over there things are never wrong:
daughters are never burned
and sons are never disregarded;
And children never hide in fear.
No harsh words are ever spoken.
It's true, non ever are.
No misconceptions or assumptions
therefore ever be.
Keep your harshness to yourself
and change what's in your eyes.
You will never know what it is like
when your world is always other wise.

word count: 99

***

I found a new prompt site. It is hosted by Jenny Matlock, (blog is of the same name) off my tangent... It seems that there are, in fact, several prompts going on this one site, so if you are ever stuck, this is a wonderful way to keep you in the mode.

Saturday Centus is a 100 words or less prompt and this weeks prompt was reflection in the mirror. As you can see, I have 2 pieces to this prompt. It seems the one came in answer to the other, and who am I to tell the writing it should stop.

UNFORTUNATELY, missed the linky by minutes. It has been done though and I hope my fans enjoy it, even though the rest of the bloggisphere is sorely missing out ;)
Enjoy both of these.

embrace me

2011-05-20T11:26:00.000-07:00

Right now it is what she needs.

Overburdened and burnt out, she has faced more challenges than I thought she could overcome in one body. She was never the ambitious type, would have been content just to do what she loved, to do something that worked and used her. She's never ashamed to admit that she has made some bad choices, some comfortable ones and some that she just didn't seem to be able to shake the consequences off.

Apathy sets in with vigour when one believes one's life to be filled with nothing and one's passions stripped away, or at least passed over in favour of doing the chores over weekend, the only personal time available. Her heart, her joy took a backseat in the life she was barely living.

There was a time of spark; the days within which she chose the things she was once afraid too; The choices she would have made as a silly, passion-filled teenager instead of the rational grown up she had become.

There is a reason why we can make those choices when we are young though...

Elated as she made the choice, filled in the forms and found her way, despondent a few months later when she faced yet another calamity in her life and finding that every day discipline sank in and demanded to be fed, so did the drama of her life.

She never wanted it to be easy, but it was not suppose to be so hard. And she, the one who lives her life by the signs that God throws at her, she knew with certainty that something had to give.

So here she is: The couch hugging her ever tired ass, the blanket enveloping her ever torn up heart. It's comfortable. It asks nothing of her. Empty cups and dirty plates are lined around her, providing a physical boundary to her personal zone. 'Extreme casual' is the dress-code, channel flipping, the entertainment.

On the surface of her mind she became convinced that we are never forgiven the stupidity of our youth, the inability to stand up and make the choices that we fear. In the inner recesses of her soul, where she was unaware that it still thought, she knew with growing certainty that she was her own worst enemy. Her spirit gave in and her body sagged in pursuet. If she was not meant (or allowed) to do the things that brought her joy, the things that she has loved, then what was the use of doing anything anymore.

Right now this is what she needs. It is not yet who she is, but pretty soon no one will be able to tell.

***

For this week's prompt, let's talk about sloth. Emotional or spiritual apathy. It's not doing what we think we should. It is closer to apathy than it is to simply being lazy. It is putting your kids in front of the TV instead of playing with them, for instance.

I found this quote - I believe from Samuel Beckett - that I love for this prompt: "Sloth is all passions the most powerful."

Please write a piece - fiction or non-fiction - based on Sloth. Word limit is 600.

my apologies

2011-05-04T10:15:00.001-07:00

For not posting on Friday. South Africa has had a series case of public holidays and it has left me slightly flabbergasted. Even more so because they fell over month end.

Please forgive me.

the colour of passion

2011-04-20T05:43:00.000-07:00

Reese entered the world with a fierce passion to live, screaming blue bloody murder to anyone who cared to hear, and even those who didn’t. The flame that burned in her heart could be seen in her hair, and periodically, in her eyes as well. Her father was quoted as saying when he held her the first time, that the fire of her soul would mark her life, just as it had marked her hair.

True to prophecy, Reese lived with an intensity that burned her into the minds of everyone who knew her. It would also be true to say that she was burned into their hearts, although this was not always an amicable feeling.

When Reese fell in love the first time, she believed she had found her life-partner. Had it been anyone else, you might have doubted that this could be at the age of 15. Alas, even though her passion would have driven her to love her fair haired friend forever, he remained true to the volatile emotions of a teenager and it was barely a month before he found himself someone who was easier to hold. When Kate entered her room a few days later to find her girly room transformed into, what could only be described as, the bleeding site of a 20litre can of paint, she was horrified. Liam tried to comfort her, but unlike Reese, Kate did not have the stomach to live with such drama and flair and moan-fully sobbed that he remove himself and his catastrophic past from her life. Liam accused Reese in person, but she simply denied it and presented him with an airtight alibi.

Everyone knew who was responsible though.

Most of her life was lived like this and by 25 her life was marred with those who once thought they could keep her passion bridled and failed.

And then she met William. For the first time her flame grew to warm instead of burn and he was able to hold her close and prevent her passion from tearing up anyone else she loved. William would give her Kaye, her son, but would pass away before he was 5.

Kaye, born with his mother’s passion and his father’s power. Who churned his mother’s passion and whose father was no longer there to subdue the flames.

When the police came to collect him in the twilight hours of his thirtieth year, Reese put up a surprisingly light fight, turning back towards the house to get her coat and car keys so that she could follow, smiling in the shroud of the half dark.

What had first appeared to be a bloody site, had turned out to be nothing more than paint, but his ex wife was missing Only his daughter was found where she had been sleeping in the car. She knew nothing, had heard nothing. The police knew about his ex’s betrayal, the divorce, refusal for joint-custody at first, and later to see his daughter at all. They were convinced that there was a crime; they could smell the blood in the air. Unfortunately, they failed to place the origin of their gut feeling.

With an airtight alibi and no body to prove foul play besides, they let Kaye go the next day. Reese brought her grand-daughter with her to pick him up and as he held her tight, she smiled and softly said, ‘Let’s go home.’ Her spitting image in face and heart turned to her and whispered ‘Love you Mammy’, before she wrapped her arms around her father with a fierce and everlasting passion.

***

Prompt form The Red Dress Club: Remembered:

This week's memoir prompt was to write a piece inspired by the color red - but you were not allowed to use the word "red" in your story.

Word count should be 600. Mine is 599, but oh! this story burned to be more. I am not sure that I even got the prompt right, but when I started it just rolled by itself. I hope you enjoy it as much as I did.

3 hearts and a forest

2011-04-15T00:57:00.000-07:00

Mike looked at the note he held in his hand. He heard the front door open and then close, guided by the hand of someone who needed to make no noise. He saw the first rays of the sun filtering through the thin curtains.

He had spent the last hour listening to his wife packing, phoning a cab and then scribbling out note after note, softly crunching them into little balls that he was sure were strewn all over her study, as always when she was looking for words. He had not said a word, helping her believe that he was fast asleep.

Somewhere in the night, Sarah's phone had rung. She had this juvenile determination to have her phone on all the time 'in case someone needs me'. And they had needed her. And she was always there. Always. He knew it was over compensation, and it brought her a semblance of peace.

Her voice had gone from a sleepy hallo, to frantic wakefulness. Whispering, she had moved the call into the en suite.

As she came back to the bedroom, she had stopped and leaned her head against the wall.

They had no secrets.

They could never afford it.

She had straightened up as soon he moved., both hands clutching her phone so hard that he could see her knuckles turning bloodless by the light of the bathroom. Her attempted smile was betrayed by her painful stare.

‘Everything ok? Who was on the phone?’

‘Lindy,’ She had answered raspy.

Imitating a fish on land, he had tried to start the right question, finding all of them wanting to burst through at once. Sarah had answered each one he did not ask.

‘She says they are going to tear down the forest. She is heading there in protest. She asked for our support.’ And then in a barely audible voice, 'it's been 10 years since we last spoke.' The intake of her breath had confirmed her struggle to keep her tears at bay. 'They can't tear it down. All those trees.... Childhoods...'

He had ignored the ‘our’ and asked her if she was planning on going, now he wondered if Lindy had even asked after him.

‘I have no idea’ she had said, emphatically shaking her head.

Gently, as if nearing a trapped animal, he had moved to her, at first touching only her shoulder until he was sure she would not flee, then wrapping her in his arms. With her head against his chest they could avoid looking at each other.

In a choice that seems a life time away and had been long laid to rest in the stormy seas of subconscious, he had chosen her and she had chosen him and the end of a triangle of love had ended a lifelong friendship. They had both lost their best friend that day. Neither regretted their choice, but the mention of the name that had remained unspoken for years brought back all the unresolved events: the apologies never given, the forgiveness never verbalized, the rupture that had followed, feelings that were hidden, hearts left scarred and closure never sought.

A whole decade’s worth of pain had flooded back into the 2 hearts holding onto one another, one hoping there would not be regret in the heart of the other, the other wondering if the choice should have been different, knowing it couldn’t have been, both contemplating the third who had broken the silence.

As they lay in bed, both being denied the peace of sleep, they remembered the forest and the days of their childhood, which had given way to the days of young adulthood, confusion and determination. Both remembering the days that changed their blood promise to be friends forever.

Mike read the note again:

I chose you and I don’t regret it. Now she needs me to choose her and I have to.

I can’t change the past, but maybe I can heal the future. My heart.

I will be back. I promise.

I love you.

He folded the note and placed in on the dressing table. Sitting on the edge of the bed, he contemplated the first time in a decade that he and Sarah had been unable to speak their hearts in trust.

He sighed and then got up to pack his suitcase. There were 3 hearts and a forest at stake here. He'd be damned if any of them would be destroyed.

***

This piece was written for The Red Dress Club's prompt for their Red Writing Hood project:

This week you had two options from which to choose: a middle-of-the-night phone call from a person from your past, or a week after attending a funeral of a close friend, you receive a postcard telling you the friend is not dead and to meet at a pizza place.

for my will is as strong as yours, and my kingdom as great...

2011-04-08T03:02:00.000-07:00

"Fear is a strange soil. It grows obedience like corn, which grow in straight lines to make weeding easier. But sometimes it grows the potatoes of defiance, which flourish underground." ~ Terry Pratchett (Small Gods)

It was just a little visit, a little gathering of sorts, and you related so eloquently the story of your betrayal of her trust and her love. You justified perfectly, just as you always have, that you simply did what you had to do.

In fascinated horror I found the age old script running in my mind that had me believing you, egged along by the need to be able to, but my heart found a little hinge and in a moment of silent panic, every memory I had once chosen to forget came flooding through me. In the space of a heartbeat, I wished I could have taken her in my arms, sheltered her as she needed and convinced her that she would always be safe. In the space of a heartbeat, I wished that someone could have done that for me.

All of that, would bring us to all of this, to see you fearful of losing, and fighting to regain the control you never had. That you did not see this coming is perhaps a testament to your own blinding arrogance, the stupidity you are so eager to prosecute others with.

I remember every time, every insult, every blow, every grip and every fearful night wondering if the threat would whirl my way. I remember the desperate need to be me, battling the desperate need to avoid war. I remember the vocal turning into the physical, when blows were no longer just a heartbreaker… How slow those moments passed.

I lived in fear. There is no growth in fear, only sadness and anger. With all the physical endowments of health, beauty and wealth, my prayers were for safety and a storm that would quit. For good.

Excuses were made, your history rehashed and retraced. My reasoning was sound, but understanding brought neither of us peace. With painful protraction, I came to know that no excuse is valid when your actions crush a soul, but rather that everyone is held accountable for being as they are. No judicial system will accept personal history as an excuse, not ever the mind.

Sadness encrouches when I think how easy this could have been and how much you could have had. There is a place inside me that was made to love you, but your failure to believe and trust this, my love for you, meant you failed to love me. ME.

Which brings us to this point, this moment you are trying so hopelessly to ignore. There is no deviance, no victory, just a simple refusal to be the captive dancer any more. Only from the space of freedom will there be the option for us to find our way back to what we were meant to be.

From me you took my personal power, but I am here to take it back. I stand here to tell you that: You have no power over me...

***

Through dangers untold and hardships unnumbered, I have fought my way here to take back the child that you have stolen. For my will is as strong as yours, and my kingdom is as great... You have no power over me.

(~Sarah, Labyrinth)

* * *

This post was written from the Red Writing Hood prompt:

Someone has stolen something from you (or your character). Something of tremendous value. What will you do to get it back? Or will you give up?

haven't been here in a while

2011-03-08T01:42:00.001-08:00

but I am back. I am not planning to delete my previous posts, but I have decided to change things a bit.

I am currently busy studying my BA Literature with specialization in Creative Writing. From now on, this will be the home of ALL writings composed in the effort of my portfolio.

Please leave comments with respect.

Much love, N

Demartini Institute Newsletter

2008-08-06T00:53:00.000-07:00

When someone believes in you, you increase in self worth and rise to the occasion. Long-term visionaries know to stay the course. They don't focus on how things aren't being done; they wisely look at what is being done and what can be done. They are solution orientated, not problem focused. As a nation, hold a vision for South Africa, don't let outer forces deter your vision and actions towards it; look for what is working; acknowledge the heroes; be grateful for the men and women who put their lives on the line to protect and serve South African society.

When you see the genius in another, you have the power to awaken the genius you see. Acknowledge the heroes and show your gratitude, for when you are grateful, you get more to be grateful for.

Written by a Teary Black African

2008-05-23T03:39:00.001-07:00

Written by Deeja http://splakaveli.blogspot.com/

I might not be a South African

But I’m black, my skin is the same as yours

My colour is the same as yours

My genes are African, nothing but African

When your leaders were beaten by whites

I was there to shelter them

I was patient with them

I offered them food, shelter,

Most of all, I offered them protection

I might not be a South African

I can’t speak Zulu, cause I’m Vhenda

I can’t speak Zulu, cause I’m Shangaan

I don’t know what an elbow is in Zulu

As much as you don’t know it in my language

Since when was Zulu the only South African language?

Yes……………I’m not from Gauteng

I was not born here, but I’m South African

Where should I go if you beat me

I’m not beating your father, mother, brother or sister who works at my area in the mines

I’m not calling them makwerekwere though they can’t speak my language.

I might be dark in complexion

I might have the foreigners looks

I might have the foreigners body structure

Now I am scared to go to the only place that I call home

I’m scared of working down the street without my ID

Whites wanted me to do that centuries ago

Now you, my black brother is acting white

Why should you Black South Africans do this?

What makes you think that you better than me?

Who told you that I’m responsible for your unemployment?

Who told you that I’m less human

If I need to go back to Vhenda……..let all the Zulus go back to KZN

Let all the Tswana’s go back to

Botswana

Let all the Sotho’s go back to

Lesotho

Let all the Ndebele’s go back to Kwandebele

Let all the Xhosa’s go back to Eastern Cape

Yes…………let all the Swati’s go back to

Swaziland

Is this not ignorance?

Your unemployment is your responsibility

Use your intellect

Get up and work

Let education empower you

Seek humanity

Before 1994 you blamed whites

Now you are blaming me

Who are you going to blame after chasing me away?

Who are you going to blame after killing me?

For what it’s worth…………………..

I’m sorry I was not born here

I’m sorry I can’t speak Zulu

I’m sorry for being too dark for your Joburg

I’m sorry for cleaning the toilets you don’t want to clean

I’m sorry for doing your garden

I’m sorry for repairing your shoes

I’m sorry for protecting your leaders while they were in Exile

Yes…………………what you call Exile………..is my country

And most of all…….I’m sorry for building South African infrastructure

Please my brothers let there be peace and prosperity amongst black African people.

Written by a Teary Black African

The Relationship

2008-03-11T12:50:00.000-07:00

See me more and never less

and know my heart is in a mess.

See me less and never more

and you won’t see my pain and sore.

Hear my words and speak to me

and in forever we will be.

Close your mouth and your ears

and never know my hopes and fears.

Be a friend and not a lover

and you shall never know I suffer.

Be a lover and not a friend

and you won’t know my soul to mend.

You

2008-02-26T00:21:00.003-08:00

You came in the night

veiled in my dreams.

You show me the light

that tugs at the seems.

You shroud your windows

with the eyes of the sky.

You lay me to the meadows

and gently open my eyes.

You are the drugs I use

and it makes me fly.

You are my only excuse

for riding my dreams so high.

Blogged with Flock

Perfect day

2008-02-26T00:21:00.001-08:00

I had an idea for a candlelight dine,

but shops, markets, all but me were on time.

I decided to bake you a birthday cake,

but the stove and the clock, everything was late.

I worked to paint my face and be a beauty show,

but Cindy and Claudia just made me feel low.

I tried my hair in the latest trend,

but left myself with more to mend.

I wore my best dress for you since midday,

but the cat, the dog, the garden got in my way.

So I greeted you in the latest mud

and for dinner all I could serve was cud.

For dessert there was lots of cream and ashes

and I saw you puzzled questioning glances.

All through the evening I was uptight,

expecting at any moment a fight.

I must’ve forgotten your love for me

for cheering you up I did not see.

You loved me too much to criticise,

I couldn’t do much wrong in your eyes.

This I realised when we said goodnight.

You held me in your arms and whispered:

‘Thank you love, you did everything right.’

Blogged with Flock

Angel

2008-02-23T01:30:00.001-08:00

Could you be the one

that would protect my heart?

Or are you the deceiver

that will tear it apart?

Are you my angel,

are you the one I’m meant to see?

Don’t shroud your eyes

where the truth I seek will be.

Will you be the one

to catch me when I fail?

Or are you the one

that will re-erect my wall?

Don’t shroud your eyes

when I need the truth.

Open them wide

so I can see the proof.

Will you be the one

that will follow where I go?

Or are you like angles

that fear to tread to low?

I won’t expect answers

till the early morning fire.

For now I watch you sleep

and pretend that I don’t tire.

Blogged with Flock

Misunderstood

2008-02-21T02:17:00.000-08:00

Much hated. Much desired.

Dreamer in individualistic nature

that each day only takes you higher.

Words take you far away

from the only world they know

whilst at your feet, only rejection lay!

Magic in your mind and soul

made you pay the bitter toll.

Find salvation in words superior

written by those who know

of the bitterness and the fear.

Join the legendary falls

on shelves to which the lonely

and the hurt for comfort call.

All in Art

2008-02-04T22:59:00.001-08:00

I saw my dad instinctly creating

perfecting accounts of other lives

while my mom took dull canvasses

and made lonely woman smile.

And in these daily ordinary ways,

I clichéd and saw the light:

The artist and accountant

work their talent to the max

for the benefit of immediate society

and for their just rewards

to get their roofs overhead.

So I said as I did before:

Beauty is worshipped at an ignorant stance.

Forgotten are these everyday arts

and that we tend to our values all the same.

The Arms

2008-02-04T22:56:00.000-08:00

The arms reach out

and comfort those

that need to know

without a doubt

that what they are

is destiny and choice

with a little work and fate

battled with nurture and nature

and smoothed with instinct and fact

and of no consequence

when the false arms reach out.

Artist's Soul

2008-01-30T11:45:00.000-08:00

In the lines that hold their minds

lay secrets of a thousand years

stories that could tell themselves

round as history does.

Each time inspiration took its place

it would bleed a thousand pasts,

guided by unconscious thought

revealing what we had to face.

In a work an artist tells

his make up of a million souls

to show us how we’ve done

or picture warning bells.

Yet pictures are adored at ignorant stance

and forgotten are the ghosts that talk

and all the time we have for art

we forget about what it holds.

Life as an Artist

2008-01-30T11:41:00.001-08:00

Life is as shallow as it is deep

worth none, unless you are an artist.

As an artist you will create

with words at your disposal

or with subtlety that goes beyond

ordinarily normal.

Real artist are those of passion

living, breathing in his art.

When he creates, all will stop, admire

even angels will envy.

Movements are filled in softness

surrounded by an air of grace

while he caresses his work,

gently and rare to human face.

It’s the true artist in all we do

that makes it all a worthwhile dance.

Apologies and Forgiveness

2008-01-21T10:50:00.000-08:00

We fought our way through

the hours, forgotten what we have

in hours, are so countless few.

Our souls were battling

when they desired loving

an nothing was right that night.

So may tomorrow be years

away from the yesterday

I wish today never was.

And though my mind doesn’t always

know the way to follow,

my heart knows it’s way to yours.

And in times that I can’t hold you

I know our souls will be

the arms that surround you and me.

In a very proud way then

I ask you for forgiveness

and in return I’ll grant you mine.

FlowerChild

2007-12-23T08:57:00.001-08:00

She came from a sunflower field,

so my story goes, with fire in her eyes

that stole the blue of summer skies

and I accepted what fate had dealt.

Her laughter sang wherever we went

and all would stare and ponder

while our friendship grew only stronger

and she made me see life different.

She made our lives spark to flame

with mischief and life and fun

rolling playfully in our sun

we found each other to be the same.

I’ll always remember her sunlit hair,

her smile so wide and eyes so bright.

We tried holding onto each other so tight

but the memory of each other is all that flares.

Lastly

2007-12-23T08:34:00.000-08:00

One last breath of air.

One last taste of life.

When to love becomes poverty

and to hope becomes a strife.

One last time before I die,

I’ll remember happier times,

when life was to fly the skies

and wishes granted on fallen stars.

When the lightning lit our passions

and raindrops soothed the lust.

When forever was a fashion

and silence reigned in sleep.

What was meant to be may not

and my purpose remains unknown,

but the world will never care

about this destiny to fall.

Poem by E E Cummings

2007-12-23T08:27:00.000-08:00

i carry your heart with me(i carry it in
my heart)i am never without it(anywhere
i go you go,my dear; and whatever is done
by only me is your doing,my darling)
i fear
no fate(for you are my fate,my sweet)i want
no world(for beautiful you are my world,my true)
and it's you are whatever a moon has always meant
and whatever a sun will always sing is you

here is the deepest secret nobody knows
(here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud
and the sky of the sky of a tree called life;which grows
higher than the soul can hope or mind can hide)
and this is the wonder that's keeping the stars apart

i carry your heart(i carry it in my heart)

ee cummings

A poem by Emily Dickenson

2007-12-23T08:11:00.000-08:00

XXXII.

It was too late for man,

But early yet for God;

Creation impotent to help,

But prayer remained our side.

How excellent the heaven,

When earth cannot be had;

How hospitable, then, the face

Of our old neighbor, God!

Green Peace

2007-12-23T08:04:00.001-08:00

I stood on heaven’s balcony

and watched the deep blue veins

give life to our love of money.

I watched green patches as they inevitably

gave the creatures of corruption breath

only to be disposed of quickly.

I reached for you, tried to take you away,

to stay in my paradise and my arms

for I did not know to whom to pray.

Ruled by undenied temptation

few things are able to last this world

fallen into the claws of condemnation.

In the end the question remains:

Who will remember our yesterday

If tomorrow never comes?

The Fear

2007-11-05T23:16:00.000-08:00

He enters into my field

and with his stitched eyes

he circles into my soul

searching for the fear

he knows I hide.

And finding none

he smolders into my ear:

‘Are you not afraid?’

And I answer: ‘Of course I am.’

But before the grin

can reach his lips

I tell him: ‘ But not of you.’

‘Of what?’ he wants to know.

And with my heart in my eyes

I answer: ‘Of trust that breaks,

of love that ends, of life that

doesn’t begin and friends

that leave.

Of the loneliness,

of a space once occupied and

a heartache that never died.’

And he leaves my space,

defeated by betrayal

whilst I fear it all once more.

Destruction

2007-11-05T23:15:00.000-08:00

In a thousand faces today

there were twice as many eyes

that spoke the truth of

a million crying souls.

In a thousand faces today,

two thousand eyes gave way

the truth of a million souls

that were repressed and slain.

People sold their beings

to a heartless, evil monster

that taught destruction and murder

to save the world for evil things.

They were bound to fall

made to believe they had won.

Failing themselves and the future,

they only knew the price of war.

Possibly Perhaps

2007-10-22T02:00:00.002-07:00

Possibly our dragons

are hidden in a mask

that will not reveal

their true and only task

Perhaps they are princesses

who want to see us only

when we’re brave and beautiful,

when we are true completely.

Possibly perhaps all we fear that’s terrible

is in the deepest truest being

all in us that’s helpless

and in us, the aid is seeing.

Fairy Tale

2007-10-22T02:00:00.001-07:00

The shining glass has hidden kings

that recover not from the clutches;

that fight the sun with crutches

and other hidden things

And others that live in flowers and trees

that sadly never know desire

but burn with the everlasting fire

that keeps away the constant freeze.

I finish up and turn away

from the fairytales I always see

from this land of fantasy that lay

beyond the shining glass reflecting me.

Passion

2007-10-12T01:38:00.000-07:00

My eyes see visions of

heaven’s light.

I count the stars

that shroud the night.

My skin feels each drop

before it falls from the skies.

I feel everlasting peace

when the world sighs.

My feet detect the thunder

of waves as they crash.

I hear ancient cries

echo from the past.

I know what I am

as my body reveals what it can be,

when you look or touch

or whenever you make love to me.

Waterbed

2007-10-12T01:37:00.000-07:00

Softly sinking in

finding silent whisperings

moving over everything

while moving over you.

All suspended inside

as the figures dissolve outside

softness gliding between

limbs and hair touching skin.

Feeling ancient beginnings

sweeping and starting all over

when skin expanding your

gentle touch and feeling.

But breath interferes

and bursts into place

where silence is you take

in the air to an unmasked face.

Murphy's Law

2007-10-03T21:03:00.000-07:00

When everything is right,
everything will go wrong.
When love is all around
but your heart is far away,
memories intrude on what is
And turn you to what was.

You may beat them out,
the dents that bend my soul.
You may succeed for a little while
and I will be tempted to be free
and give what it takes
not to feel the holes again.

But who sees what I see
or feels what I feel
or sadly remembers what I do.
So I need to prove my flight
and stay in space for a little while
to sleep and to know I bleed.

My Friend

2007-09-27T23:13:00.000-07:00

In my heart and in my soul
you lay to rest you gentle call.
In your heart you keep me cased
yet push me far from you embrace.

Linger in the darkened shadows
that veil the green and perfect meadows.
Touch the face where love lies deep
but kiss the lips of the one you keep.

As darkness fails and light recedes
I wonder how our paths will lead.
Will I ever be the one you tend
or will I forever remain your friend.

The Night

2007-09-21T00:49:00.000-07:00

The night is the one
that knows me well,
that sees my heart
as it truly dwells.

The day may see
the way I hide
beneath my smile
the darkest tide.

Only alone and in the dark
will what I fear
be shown on my face
with each passing tear.

Get Featured

2007-09-20T23:32:00.000-07:00

This seems easy enough: Just post an article about Get Featured and they will direct traffic to your site. Right now this service is for free, so you have nothing to lose.

The tough thing about poetry and art is to get it observed. Art is not art after all unless there is an interaction with the world outside. Geting it published in South Africa is almost near to impossible, so a blog is the next best thing.

With this easy traffic director I can spend more time on the work that needs to be done. So try it and mayb eti will work for you.

Monster's Ball

2007-09-20T05:25:00.000-07:00

Some monsters don’t want to be known.
They hide and linger in the corners
revealing them when you are alone
and have to face them so.
They rise like bubbles to the surface
keeping you from comfort
and denying you the chance to live.

Would they flee if they know?
For your soul depends on them
as they depend on you
in a part that is safely theirs.
You could destroy their own
or it could be you,
but the thing you can never do
is let them let go of you.

Dreams

2007-09-20T05:23:00.000-07:00

As the wind travels by
and whispers to our souls
that our dreams are coming
on the beings of the sky,
we let the veils lift away
yet always allow the darkness to stay,
but lined with silver
the clouds come through
and pause for effect
before traveling on too.
We will never be as young as we are now,
but our dreams will travel by
unless we learn how
to listen to the wind and
see the clouds
that brings promises to land.

I'll Stand by you

2007-07-26T02:52:00.000-07:00

The sky fell down
that’s all I know
and I could not stop it
from doing so.

But when the pillars fail
to keep heaven in the sky
I want you to know this
whenever trouble comes by.

I’ll be there for you.
For you I’ll be strong.
We made our pledge
of friendship forever long.

So don’t push me aside,
don’t turn away from me,
‘cause when the darkness comes
I’ll find a light so you can see.

For better or worse
we said we do
and whatever the problem,
I’ll stand by you.

The Weeper

2007-07-25T05:55:00.000-07:00

The breath is taken and silently so
as the moon climbs high
as always, entangled it lies
while it seeps through the stars.

The fire smolders
and burns itself out
as the children outside shout
about the joys that are.

As the pools grow wider
and the abyss deeper,
it rises to catch the weeper
and a bitter era passes by.

The Storm

2007-07-24T00:55:00.000-07:00

On the verge of a storm
On the verge of a break
Trembling with frustration
To retain the hilted form

The world heaves a sigh
As it anticipates the tapping
In the hope of what’s coming
From the sagging sky

The saddened heavens break
Along with the storm
And it cries for the world
That delights in the tears of the storm.

Echoes From Mountains

2007-07-22T10:27:00.000-07:00

Mountains from essential tragedy
reflected freedom of choice
with the ultimate certainty of purpose.
then lost the feeling
in the tradition of absurdism
and a modern integrated system of values.

This genre is the exact nature
of new ideas that prove to be
a conflict between the prevailing
and the expected
involving the acceptance of consequence
and a destiny to continually perfect
the echo of your convictions.

Dawn

2007-07-21T14:46:00.000-07:00

Heartache

2007-07-20T06:55:00.000-07:00

Do you see the pain in my eyes?
Do you feel the ache of my heart?
Do you know the way I break?
‘Cause you can’t be mine
the world will end tonight…

See What I See

2007-07-18T06:48:00.000-07:00

Take the anger and tuck it away
safely in the box I gave.
I will hold the world
in the nook of my heart
if you fall with me
and see what I see.

Close your eyes tight
and allow yourself to see
the beauty I place in your hands
the beauty I give you to see.
Chase the shadows apart
and see the light of your mind,
feel the burning of our heart
and know NOW
we’ll never be apart.

Cat

2007-07-17T05:10:00.000-07:00

This drawing was made using an eraser and pencil. It was a learning curve and fun, although I have to say that I am not a fan of drawing animals.

Hope

2007-07-17T05:06:00.000-07:00

The face shed a light
that the darkness swallowed
as fast as it was able,
leaving shadows in the sight
of fingers that find the way.
but the heart had kept the light inside
and secretly lit the darkened path
to keep demons at bay.

Don't Say It

2007-07-17T04:51:00.000-07:00

You don’t have to say you love me.
You don’t have to say you do.
When all is not said I’ll know surely
that we can see this through.

So don’t fall in love with me
and I won’t fall in love with you
‘cause what we really wanted
is for this thing to be true.

I can see in your eyes
that I am in your heart
and words cannot express this thing
that makes us never want to part.

So don’t say you love me
and I won’t say it too,
for if we never say it
then we can see us through.

Go for a Ride

2007-07-17T04:49:00.000-07:00

When the sun is high,
of the blistering kind,
I’ll pick you up
and we’ll go for a ride.

Of kings and queens
we know nothing about
except fairytales and endings
that our lives don’t allow…
For what if I give?
And what if you take?
What if all I receive
turns out to be fake?

But as the wind
sweeps through our hearts
and festers the sores
that may tear us apart,
we take what we can,
what we can, we give
and pray through it all
the other will never leave.

But always remember when
the sun was high, of the blistering kind,
I picked you up
and we went for a ride.

Prevailing Convictions

2007-07-05T02:02:00.000-07:00

Moral order transcends divine power
and the universe adds a little point
to a large leap of translation.
Representative philosophy is not priced
by the ruling order, in an effort to manifest
the birth of modern style and technique.
The prevailing publications
are affected and captured quickly.
Never fully found in notebooks
of intellect and sensibility, that
at the end convictions are prevailing.

Mine

2007-07-05T01:59:00.001-07:00

Would you be mine and
let me do
all the little things
for you?

The things that make
relations real
that puts forever on
what we feel.

Like giving up my heart
for you,
only when your mine,
I do.

My Pain

2007-07-05T01:58:00.000-07:00

From my heart I take this pain
and send it back from where it came.
From now on till the day you die,
you will feel every tear I’ve cried.

I banish you from my life
for you have caused me too much strife.
I tried so long what we had, to save
and now I you leave you with all you gave.

Nearby

2007-07-05T01:30:00.001-07:00

If that’s where you want me,
I’ll stay on the rim,
always on the outside,
forever trying to get in
while you’re staring at me
with your eyes stark in place,
fearing that I’ll see
the fear on your face.

You don’t want me to be near,
scared that I’ll tear you apart.
You don’t want me to far,
then you’ll deny your heart.
So I’ll stand as close
to the edge as I may,
knowing in my soul
that near you I’ll always stay.

But what I know
I’ll keep inside
for if I let out
you may just run and hide.
I’ll reach my hand over the edge
where you keep yourself and your fear
and I’ll place my hand on your heart
and whisper to you softly ‘I’m here’.

butterflies

2007-07-05T01:29:00.000-07:00

dream of butterflies that
enter the blackened space
then burst into flight to
the silver of the moon
and all you see are spots
of yellow, blue and red
as they settle on you and
steel the color from your head
until all that is left
is the truth in your eyes
along with the knowledge
that a color born never dies
they fill the space
with colored beams so thick
yet you know that your red heart
is the first layered brick
and when you don’t like where you are
you’re not a tree move on
and find the place where
you truly belong
as the golden globe rises to wake the day
and stained glass windows begin to pray
I’ll lie in your arms and see your closed eyes
and hope that you too dream of your
bright colored butterflies

Yearning over Distance

2007-07-05T01:28:00.000-07:00

When you can’t touch my hand,
try to taste my sorrow.
When you can’t taste my lips,
try to smell my tears.
When you can’t smell my desire,
try to hear my breathing.
When you can’t hear me speak,
try to touch my soul.
And when your eyes deny my presence,
just don’t denounce our hearts.

The Shore

2007-07-05T01:27:00.000-07:00

They take a miled start
and thunder to shore,
rolling and falling in place,
hoping to stay forever,
knowing their grasp is weak.
And they slip from the sand
where they desired to stay
leaving only salt and tears
and hope for tomorrow

What I Want to Say

2007-07-05T01:26:00.000-07:00

I alone know what I want to say
but the words will not be put down.
They keep running around in my head
but refuse to come to the end of my hand.

Inside are the trains of information
keeping the track of my head
and everywhere signs appear that exclaim
‘Beware of low flying airplanes!’.

Yellow and black are the signs on the track
and the tunes that play are numbered back.
Maybe I need to spend some time
to figure more what it is I thought I’d say.

But then I realize that the words
cannot be bound to ink because
the thoughts are in my heart
and what I want to say is not what I thought.

Freedom Fighters

2007-07-05T01:10:00.000-07:00

My heart let out a sigh
for the whole world to hear
and I allowed myself to fly
to where I could find no tears.

Maybe we should’ve given up
on the dreams that made our souls,
but when we filled our empty cup
we knew that we’d be whole.

Back to back and shoulder to shoulder,
we pulled ourselves out of the dump
and pretended we didn’t feel it getting colder
as we rose from our faited slump.

No-one could stop us being
and no-one could stop our fighting
for what we would be freeing
from what was dealt and tightening.

Hope to Gain

2007-07-05T00:52:00.000-07:00

(It might need some explanation: My fiance at the moemnt has one blue and one brown eye)

I look into your blue and brown eyes
and I can see where my heart lies.
All that I am and all that I be
is inside where neither of us can see.

I can’t judge or prove what I know,
but obtaining the truth will show
that where you are my heart is too
and that is what will pull us trough.

I hope that hope will not prove in vain
and that all we have to lose, we’ll gain.
So fly with me in ecstasy
and hope we become what we wish to be.

21

2007-07-05T00:51:00.000-07:00

Now that you have the right to sign,
remember to read all the way to the dotted line.
Your cup may be full and may overflow,
but always care for those whose cups are low.
Know that you are unique and loved
and deserve everything you receive from above.
You have to take responsibility for all that you do,
but be proud and see things through.
Regardless of the above: Remember to have fun
because your life may begin when you turn 21!

Boy

2007-06-29T12:28:00.000-07:00

This was my very 1st ever pencil drawing. It was really intense, but when it was finished, it was the most amazing feeling.

Grandmother

2007-06-29T12:27:00.000-07:00

This picture was a real block for me as I am not on good terms with my mother's family (this is my grandmother on her side). But once again the feeling of accomplishment was amazing.

Monk

2007-06-29T12:26:00.001-07:00

I think I might have messed up the hands a little, and this might actually be a guy in a hoody. But it is one of the first pictures that I drew without an assignment. It did not take nearly as long as any other picture I had drawn to date.

Abduction

2007-06-15T13:18:00.000-07:00

Pack me away
and secretly so.
Fly me to space
and let me be
while you ask for
what you won't get
and continue the race.

Run you down
with eyes that don't clear.
Music of the spheres
that shift silently around
you will not hear.
for you are to busy to listen
and to hard to fear.

The Abby

2007-06-01T13:16:00.000-07:00

Silence is more silent,
peace is more serene.
Strolling through the garden
and never doubting
walking thoughts that enter.
For faith is always mainly
mutually contradictory
and all these things
like God, are true.
For if they were nothing
then the world
did not exist too.

dream of me

2007-05-26T08:09:00.000-07:00

Dream of me
Sleep well my love
and let it be me
that enters your world
where you can not see.
Let the moonbeams
sooth your frown,
but let it be me
that caresses your crown.

You need your rest
when all's too much
and I'll be there for the dawn and such.
For now I wish you to close your eyes
and enter the realm
where the dreamkeeper lies.
Sleep well my love
and it will be me
that guides you in the world
where your eyes can not see.

scramble and fries

2007-05-26T08:08:00.001-07:00

Scramble me up
and serve me with fries.
This is the place where
the butterfly lies.

It will never be seen,
but will always be here,
kept in the place
that you hold your fear.

It lies in the shadows
and awaits the day
that freedom may be
and constraints will fray.

Unattended and unknown,
the butterfly lies
where you know you
can't have scramble and fries.

Catch me

2007-05-26T08:06:00.000-07:00

This is where I don't know anymore.
This is where I give in.
This is where I can't find myself
'cause I can see where I've been.

This is where I have nothing left.
This is where the stars are gone.
This is where my universe ends
'cause my past has been too long.

This is my moment of truth.
This is the moment I fall apart.
This is where I reach out my hand
and hope you are there to catch my heart!

You can be

2007-05-26T08:05:00.000-07:00

You can be my center.
You can be my verse.
You can be my rhyming reason.
You can be my curse.

You can be my world
and all I revolve around.
You can make me fly
And keep me on solid ground.

But before this all may be
you alone must first decide
to be with me forever
or to push me forever aside.

Evolutionary

2007-05-26T08:02:00.000-07:00

More join the customary and natural
like 'meet the queen'
and 'answering machine'
or 'give a soul and get a life'.

And technology festers
into a plot to kill
that the paranoid see
and others promote.

Let all thank Adolf Hitler
for he showed us the way
to destroy and rule
and teach children to hate.

The Sign

2007-05-26T08:01:00.000-07:00

Behaviour crashes into waning:
Vision of bullets
come and play
and mismanagement
near children allows the whisper:
'Desire it because
it's a start - being evidence...'

Entrapment

2007-05-26T07:59:00.001-07:00

Unwanted rythms.
Unwanted desires.
For amounts
and accounts
that are dangled
daily.

Dwindling on a wire
in a selected frame.
Unable to escape
out of respect
for the ancient
and the wise.

Just lie in
a closet
in silence and waiting
and silence...

Perfection

2007-05-26T07:54:00.000-07:00

The silver and velvet
clouds the midnight sky
and reaches down to earth
as it lets out a sigh.

When touched by the gentle breathing
of the restless sphere
the silvery moon that now connects
with the heart of the earth
will soon be forced away
turning dreams into the fog of day.

But for now the wings
of angels hover past
and the dreams that we dream
make our perfection last.

Rest in Peace

2007-05-26T07:51:00.000-07:00

A sleep
was it
that could be had
from rest in peace
on own account.

Sequentially then maybe
the trip shall take
all the bags
in a time
that no-one has.

Abandoned

2007-05-26T07:50:00.001-07:00

Left -

For reckless survival,
heartaches and pain.
When autumn came
and leafs fell
in selfless sacrifice
and selfish suicide
doors closed on hearts
given back.
- squished - abandoned

Abbatoir

2007-05-26T07:49:00.000-07:00

The blood that flowed
was more of fear
as sheep were
led to knives.

Screams were pressured
against the plates
as trusting fools turned
cold - TOMORROW's SALE!

Survival

2007-05-26T07:47:00.000-07:00

Start to execute
what matters most.

Push of ideas
and those close.

Stay in place
and never show true face.

The Gamble

2007-05-26T07:43:00.001-07:00

Prolong the wager
and be the chips
that take the edge
and push on over
the
cliff.

Never stand up
with the shame on your face
so that all you'll have
is my embrace.

Corruption

2007-05-21T10:18:00.000-07:00

While premiers are given powers
as the elephants fight
and the soldiers are charged
by armed gangs,
the court told the man:

'Admit to the theft of the poor
so that the domain
of the rich and powerful
can remain an unlocked cell
as the gallery draws their salary.'

The Tide

2007-05-20T06:14:00.000-07:00

Film corrupts crack
as low-cost AWOL's,
capsizing homes that
think in lazer
but die in a smash.

a Clue

2007-05-20T04:52:00.000-07:00

Strawberries and hypocricies
are strewn by the way
that I place my choices
and make my day.
Water is the source of life
and my inspirational cue.
Let's have a clue
about who we think we are
and convince ourselves
of convictions known.

Desire

2007-05-12T03:22:00.000-07:00

Actions of 'I want it'
are coloured with porcelain
to move us to tradition
of finer feelings
that are healthy, moral, social,
where no excuses are allowed
for attacks that reward.

Let Me Out

2007-05-11T03:12:00.000-07:00

Let me come out
to be myself.
Don't let me shout,
just open the door
and allow me to go out.

I am what I am.
No doubt I’m a man.
A skeletal man, I must confess,
but even so,
man, non the less.

Circles of Systems

2007-05-04T07:53:00.000-07:00

Fantasy invents a fairgound
that encircles the diary
of satisfied faces in the treatement
that is streamlined for passion
in dark circles of suicide;
Sculpted to impress
the nominee of sophisticated choices
and independantly, dangerously conquers
the silent words of our minds.

Understanding Us

2007-04-29T08:04:00.000-07:00

Women of the dark
in contents are a dainty girl
of completed decleration
of dreamy investigation.

For the world is
- hypo-alergenic, dermatologically tested -
the art of our natural beauty
that teach our children well.

Teachers of our Tears

2007-04-27T08:52:00.000-07:00

Teachers of our tears
reserve a fire for damage
and stare at the sun
that ghosts follow
in ancient confusion

Firm promises colored
at your fingertips
like free sushi for
our well-healed independence
as more join the customary

So I return with my pen
back to the ocean
for our milk and honey
shots restore tranquility
and improvement kills itself.