Your eyes dance
I can't tell if its because you're so high
On your dope
Or there's the slightest hope that i actually make you happy
I see you choke
Because of the smoke
Or maybe there is the possibility my touch has brought a lump to your throat
You lick your lips
You are hungry
For another hit
Or could it be your just desiring to taste a bit of me
Your nostrils flare
Taking in the skunky hot air
Or what if you just caught in the wind my strawberry scented hair
Whatever it is that makes your eyes light up and you face emerge with delight
I am thankful
You're never more beautiful than when you are so perfectly in paradise
The only orange on earth
grows 3 days by train, 7 hours by car, or 30 minutes through the air away
many years it had spent wasted,
yellow and bitter
too sour for any girl to kiss.
But when, by chance, I stepped into his orchard
I found him, not rancid,
and sweet, full of western lights .
Now I'm dying for you, my love.
My skin falls off in great swollen swaths,
and the chill from the biting rain cuts to the core,
melts my bones better than any heat wave.
State lines as fences?
I will simply find a way to jump them.
For all I know,
the moment I first believed in love,
trapped in the sight of
the beaming hot eye of god,
hand raised, defenseless,
Breathing hot on my skin,
The sweet-perfumed voice,
Tender and shrill,
words dancing from your lips:
laughing-mad and tender in my ears
eyes wet, wreathed in the gold
that powders the air .
For all I know,
That was the moment,
Though love be blind,
I could see that your
You are a distant dream
that when in thought,
twists my stomach into knots.
I can still see your eyes
as they twinkled at night,
under the sky's starlight.
And still feel your skin
brushed up against mine,
as we laid together entwined.
You are a deafening scream
that brings a shock,
to everything I had forgot.
I can still hear your voice
and the love it rejoiced,
while I still had a choice.
And still smell your scent
on the last day we left,
with an old life to reinvent.
You are a distant sea
that kisses the shores
I rest upon no more.
I can still taste the air
and the grapes we had shared,
when the summer was bare.
And still it all swells
whispering of it's tales,
as I struggle these spells.
You are a distant dream
who always returns to me
and robs me of my sleep,
while I try to break free
and come at peace
with all of the love that once loved me.
Vaulting canyons soar on high
Shadows vast in orange sun,
Expedition treads the stones
Of exploration Mars begun.
Shifting sands in freezing breeze
Desolation’s red extreme,
Lifeless in the breathless air
As yet, no living thing be seen.
Found beneath the rust red plain
Of ancient planet Mars afar,
The relics of an ancient tribe
Of humanoids who fled the star.
Humanoids so far advanced,
Far beyond our knowledge bounds,
Far beyond our comprehension’s
Grasp of that which now, confounds.
Far advanced but still despaired,
Despite the organisational skill,
Destroyed the lakes and seas of Mars
With need and greed and get and kill.
Destroyed the soft green slopes of grass,
Destroyed the gentle surge of surf,
Destroyed tomorrow’s promised day
With need and greed, for what they’re worth.
Buried deep within the sands
Soaring spires of cities great,
Skeletons of millions caught
By greed’s black devastation’s hate.
Greed’s black hand which gambled all
On fate’s capitulated hand,
To smite the delicacy of
This planets eco-balanced land.
Mars collapsed with quick accord
The atmosphere constricted, cold.
Vegetation died en masse
Population withered old.
A frantic few survived to flee
With silver ark to virgin Earth,
(Where dinosaur now roam the shores),
To resurrect a new rebirth.
A new rebirth in promised land
Where old mistakes should not be made,
Where simple rules shall stay the hand
Of they who walk in light and shade.
A new rebirth on planet Earth
Will guarantee a life of gold
To future generation’s child
Who shall, (we promise), grow, safe, old.
On the eve of man’s great push to planet Mars.
25 May 2013
"Born in a brothel, raised in a tavern, rode in a coffin, died in the streets" - Warkos Diméaus (Nhlanhla Moment)
Tellaby Tellaby neater than me
Tellaby telling me her guy I cannot be
She is a girl that all desire
She kindles the day like fire
Tellaby Tellaby she be a queen
Telling me I am not fit and ill-willed
I sought to hold her like the air circles in the wind
I need her like wool and sheep are twins
Tellaby, Tellaby I wish guys could see
This unsurmountable beauty that she shows me
Tellaby tells me I can only wish,
To have her as mine is like sands that have fish.
Not a thing but a telling wish
Tellaby, she has a heart so rich.
Look up at the sky
See how the embers fly
Through the crisp evening air
The warmth of the bonfire
Drawing everyone in
The husky wood aroma
Clinging to our skin
Corruption is like a ghost-
intangible but eerily solid, there but untouchable.
Like smoke, it dissipates into the air around us-
weaving itself into our breath faster than we can
inhale and exhale the lies that thicken and pollute
the oxygen that blackens our lungs with thick, black vines of tar
like poison ivy vines that creep across cracks onto ancient buildings,
forming a web that represents the false truths that have come to define our history-
triumphs and tragedies morphed so inconsistently by the victors.
And we lie to ourselves as we say we find beauty in this-
in a society so fed by falsehood that we're bloated by it-
dragged down by it.
Carrying this extra weight with a smile
living in a world that sees blinders
as a euphemism for freedom.
I want to be able to have my words flow from my brain to the paper,
to have the pencil write freely. Running along side the lines,
creating worlds of the unexplained,
but for now I will have to settle for mediocre.
But one day, while I am engulfed in my ocean of thoughts
I will make a masterpiece.
Something that will be in books,
that people study from centuries from now.
They will question:
What is the theme of this poem?
How is this accomplished?
Theses students will deconstruct the poem,
to only find there is not meaning.
My vulnerable poem will lay there hanging,
with its blood spilled around.
Gasping for air, to tell them that they misunderstood.
Then it will dawn on them...
The poem was only meant to be enjoyed.
But it will be to late.
It will no longer hold the wonder it once held.
Innocent white, intense pink,
Precious without question.
Ensured to wilt.
Ensured to fall.
Ensured to die.
From a flower on high,
A petal falls while
In an awkward dance
Of new beauty
Incapable of analyses but
Stemming seemingly from
The petal being held afloat
Only by a thin thread of air
Lachesis measured short.
Time forever passing,
Tears forever multiplying,
Petal descending still.
All nature fleeting,
And yet another
Than the last
The flower is left
An ugly shell
Of its former glory.
The more the beautiful,
The more the damned.