I don't feel special,
I'm not unique.
I want to cry
but I can't even speak.
My hands reach out,
but they cannot hold
a single thing
but the bitter cold.
Everything's frozen,
I feel lost.
Even my tears
have turned to frost.
When I cut my waist
it bleeds black.
I'm so deeply gone
there's no way back.
This is goodbye

The truth is I'm lying, waiting
Losing time like daylight savings
Contemplating, with my self debating
But father time is not hesitating

We are not rude and impolite

It’s the lacking of genuineness

The world has been so unkind

We refused to acknowledge the kindnesses

Dearest daughter.
Seed planted at twelve,
spiralling, sprawling.
Fourteen's springtime; sprouting,
while toiled and soiled,
till twenty's plenty.

The precious peers arrive,
cans in one, fertiliser in the other.
You plead, you beg,
nothing but stilted silence
escapes.
Expansion you cannot take.
Not for this inner tree of black,
where nothing but anguish falls.

Spring blooms rainbow flowers
With it grows a sense of dread
Am I really in the prime of my life
Or is it that I'm already dead

My poetry is always written
In the heat of the moment

The big picture is often neglected
It is but
One moment in all my life

The perspective might be messed up
And the feelings exaggerated
But it's nice to have that moment captured

I'm tired of
staying up all
night

worrying about if
you're okay because
I

ache to start
taking care of
myself

we'll always have
Chicago in the
Winter

but for now,
we've reached the
end.

She is earth and she is fire
She is strong and a survivor
She loves fiercely
She walks honestly
A woman to desire

Brighton is the closest
to Brexit than anywhere
in Britain so why not
Bring a Breton sample
and stop Brainwashing
to Brake the Brackets
that Braggarts Brag in
Brainless Bravado of
Bribery that is Brewing
by Bricking the tunnel
thus Bridling Brittle Brows,
with Brutal Brush-offs
Bruising Brotherly love.

ps.

EXIT via the backstop.

After the crossing

I've tea with the ferryman –


no need to travel.

Today is Friday,
The day your prayers are answered.
When you go for prayers,
Don't forget to ask Allah for my hand in marriage,
Inshallah with His blessings,
Our parents will agree.

some flowers aren't meant to bloom fully,
they are plucked so early,
some waves aren't made to surf,
they die too early,
some eggs aren't meant to fertilize,
they are stolen so early,
i guess i want meant to be loved deeply,
that's why you left so early..........

it’s a beautiful thing
this day and age
with bubbling permafrost
with drug-resistance
with obesity treatments
with technological advancements
with scientific discoveries
with silent wars
with blue lava
with bleeding glaciers
with divorce
with sensitivity
with my generation
of people believing
this new generation
is completely and
utterly clueless as a
common occurrence

but let’s think about
what these kids are
into nowadays.

let’s think about who
invented these inane
things for the kids.

my generation of people.

so the kids of today are
the ones who are ******
for liking the things
that we’ve created?

I’m sorry but we have to
be the ones who are obtuse
for believing such things,
oblivious for not
realizing them and
showing the world
we have
little or no imagination
anymore.

the generation before us
has lied to us and
thought us to lie
to the generation
after.

whether it’s the gods
or holidays
or what not.

the youth of the today
are autonomous.
they can not take
responsibility for
their actions nor do
they understand and
just go along
with the trends,
much like,
all the generations
before them
but we need a scapegoat
to cover up our own
farce implementations.

the truth of the matter is..
we’re all a little vacuous
in our own way
especially the ones with
an answer for everything.
living in an imperfect world
where there’s always room
for improvement
nothing for us
or against us
wrapped up in our
congratulatory
self-contradictory
and illogical theories
and as useless as
exploding appendix.

the lost generation
the interbellum generation
the silent generation
the baby boomers
generation x
the millennials

a strong admixture
of imbecility and
self-assurance
filled with belief
and unawareness
to a senseless world

like hate
like blame
like gossip
like jealousy
like being offended
like being impressive
like the punk rock dream
like hospital waiting rooms
like fundraisers and charity events
like your co-worker to the right and
the left of you
and their families
and their families before
them

our greatest creation
our strongest aide

to deconstruct

I love him
I tell myself
I know that
We will be together forever
I don’t believe that
We could be separated
My thoughts tell me that
He’s the love of my life
Sometimes my heart lies and says
I could live an eternity
Without him
Like my friends say
“We’re perfect for each other”
And you can’t tell me
He’s not the one.

Now read from bottom to top.

Lick my lips
Cradle my face
Gaze into my eyes
And tell me I'm safe

i dread the day you learn
for the first time that
you can't just love all
the darkness in me away

and no matter how much
you care i will still toss
and turn at night and scars
might still appear on my skin

i dread the day you realize
that you can't cure me
and sometimes all you can do
is stand next to me and
hold my hand through fog
pouring out of my ears so black
and thick we can't even see
each other's faces

i dread the days i can't
get out of bed
the days you want to
take me out and all
i can manage is a prettified
shell of myself

i dread the day you learn
that sometimes no matter
how hard i try i still can't
pull myself together

the day you learn that
there isn't an answer
you can give that will
save me from my fears

you aren't the first person
who has tried to love the
darkness inside away
my family and friends
have given it their all
but someday you too will learn
that if love could
cure mental illness
the world would be
a much better place

There's a time to be silent
and a time to speak.
Life is scary in RSA
with our power cuts,
water issues
and general decline.
People are feeling anxious
about what is and
what is coming,
those that cant or wont
leave the country.

Brazen politicians,
reminds me of the book
"Animal Farm"
a revolution
Communism revisited
Everyone is equal
but some more equal than others

Revolt
peasant and person
all people alike

If I could ask you
to consider me
in your prayers,
it would be that I be safe
and supported and happy
doing what I love to do
and that people
around me feel the same,
most especially you x

Paint me a picture
Of your skin
Does it bronze beneath the sun?
Or sizzle and blush
Like your cheeks
When you’re in love?
Is it soft to the touch
Like when your palms graze
The smooth surface of water?
Or rough around the edges
Like your favorite book
And its lovingly worn corners?
Does it melt in the heat
Like sweet syrupy treats
Dripping through your fingers?
Or does it welcome the winter
With wide open arms
As if greeting a lover?
Paint me a picture
Of your skin