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Oct 4 · 467
The Sea
Cana Oct 4
It’s a strange muse, this murderous blue.
So many drawn to her splendor
So many drawn to their death
I ran out of words to describe her beauty. But needed to remember how dangerous beauty can be
May 20 · 378
Island morning
Cana May 20
The bird songs ring out harmonious
Their calls for some wanton *******,
The best type.
Reciprocated across the landscape
Which is not the right word
There’s more sea here than land.
an orange hangs low in the lonely sky
Perfectly ripe,
Dripping wet with honeyed shades of gold,
Coating palm trees and my knees.
Also my cigarette box and my coffee mug. A slow swell pitching and yawing,  
a side to side appreciated only by those trying to sleep.
A breeze lazier than I licks my cheeks and fondles my thighs.
It’s time, to go.
Morning world
Apr 15 · 125
Turkish towel
Cana Apr 15
The blue and white woven thread
Sits comfortably close
tasseled ends exotic
clinging seductively
Falling too easily.
Who needs pants?
Mar 7 · 224
Lost words
Cana Mar 7
I have a set of words,
I don’t know how to say.
They’ve been lost and jumbled,
Scattered to the tides, stolen by ginger mermaids
I have to catch them, before the elements.
Should even one of those fragile blades
Wash upon your shore.
Then the wall would be thickest,
A Medieval palisade.
I was looking to stumble. Through.
Jan 24 · 205
The dusted Air
Cana Jan 24
Surprisingly the dusted air
does not bring a gritty mouth?
It seeps sandy, into the recesses of skyscrapers,
gives bright blue pools a poxy composure.
Its probably why the buildings aren't white
but not why my teeth aren't

It's accompanied by muted roars,
a cacophony of humanity in the near and far.
Indians eating Ethiopian,
Pakistanis driving Chinese cars,
Arabs shopping at Bloomingdales,
Filipinos Filipinoing.

A city that embodies the glittering gold
of empty flats and abandoned offices,
the cushion covered loungers
and the overwhelming urge to jump
from the 26th floor balcony.

A squinted eye admires the Burjes.
A shielded glance is spared for the Mosques.
Their brilliance is solar, my sunglasses game is weak
and my neck is starting to get sore.
Its quite the marvel
Jan 15 · 156
Airport carpets
Cana Jan 15
Nothing holds the combined spectrum of human emotion
so openly, easily and blatantly as Airport carpets
Excited sad trepidation love loneliness happiness...all of them
Dec 2018 · 446
Cana Dec 2018
I got lost in a slew of plans.
Let's go here, let's do that.
You can come too, wait you can't.
Ok fine, i'm sure it'll be ok

It wasn't
Too many plans.
Dec 2018 · 174
Its a Diet Coke
Cana Dec 2018
It is, I tell you, I promise.
It sits on my right, open and barely touched.
Pure condensation glittering on the outside
Chemical intoxication squatting on the in.

Charmingly Silver and a splash of red
the colour of an impulsive clown.
"Diet" it says, Im not on one.
"Coke" it says, Im not on that either.

why are you even here?
bored shuffles of a crazy.
Dec 2018 · 369
This time around
Cana Dec 2018
Today I'm filled with muted optimism
Something not often seen skulking around my peripheral.
Some retail therapy and a ***** free day.

I write you blinded, literally, consumerism blaring,
shining RED in my eye. My new shoes and sparkly
chemical incentives sitting comfortably on my feet
and in the back of my skull respectively

you know? Just above my nape.

The weekend is over.
That person has left, incised from delicate parts
where hurt feels more justified than starving children and
diseased refugees, "oh so woe is me" avoided.

We shouldn't have gone skiing together, the snow was far from ready.
The passengers leapt from the derailing train, terrified of sludgy wet slopes.

This time around I won't let them come so close. Stiff arm, no more than three. No more poems for you, or freedom for me.
I felt like putting my rambling brain onto a screen. Its not meant to make sense, my brain rarely does.
Oct 2018 · 171
Drunken writing
Cana Oct 2018
This old fashioned simpers in my hand
Sweet and sharp, Bitter and Blight
it calms my everything
to a point
where I cannot
Sep 2018 · 190
New York
Cana Sep 2018
The Silhouetted buildings peak
through the clouds, obscured
across the river, a city shivers
on a cold New York morning.
Just a little pitter patter of thoughts
Sep 2018 · 293
You came from nowhere.
Cana Sep 2018
I know you
I burn in the flame from the glint in your eye
I sense the power in an insecure smile
I feel the danger in sarcastic defense

I see you
Desperate search in a forest so dense
Fighting the current, feet bloodied and red
You flex and bow, delicate perch, fragile limb

I taste you
From knees to shoulders In feline repose
A punch in the face from the twist of a nose
My blood hints of freedom, drips off my lips.

I feel you
It’s an electric vibration, synaptic attention
An ambiance, subtle change in light
Conflagration grows while sparrows take flight.
I story I wrote for a badass ***** I met recently.
Aug 2018 · 6.8k
A bench in the park
Cana Aug 2018
Ripples riddle the mirror,
Below, faint shapes shift
Elegant forms float here and there,
Little legs thunder, leaving a gentle wake
in lieu of turmoil.

The air is thick, the sun falling,
Already lost behind billowing storm clouds
Etched chaotically on the horizon.
Invisible but for the ubiquitous light.

It is the dragonflies time,
A darting zip and an effortless flutter.
From surfacing **** to towering Reed,
Searching for something we can only pretend to know.

Determined housewives, faces set,
Arms pumping and hips swaying
Their Anatidean waddle so fitting
Their quacks, a wall of stereo.

A lone rusted sign warns of gators,
but of signs, there is that one alone.
No rogue bubbles or beady eyes,
no ticking of swallowed clocks,
no suspicious splashes.

My battery is now as low as the sun,
and my pen is as empty.
A not so subtle poke in the ribs
from a universe in protest of the
bad poetry being inked.

c'est la vie
or as we say in English
**** it
Tuesday evening park sit. Waiting, watching, and stuff.
I wrote his sober, so I cannot be held accountable.
Jul 2018 · 707
The Tree of Me
Cana Jul 2018
I sat beneath the tree of me
its sheltering boughs spread wide.
Catching the afternoon sunlight on
hoary green leaves.

I sat beneath the tree of me
it's twisted, gnarled trunk stood strong,
Scarred by initials crossed out.
It's gooey sap ebbing and flowing to
the erratic beat of my own heart

I sat beneath the tree of me
thirty two rings, some thick, more lean.
A centre core, a maypole of happiness and

I sat beneath the tree of me
cradled by roots dug deep.
wispy wind wiggling my hair
comfort in all of me

I sit beneath my ageing tree
on a blanket far too large.
"You're welcome" I'd say to passersby
to sit with me a while.
My meditation place, on a green hillock surrounded by more little green hillocks.
Jul 2018 · 255
Mingling Sullenly
Cana Jul 2018
Sitting, baking, smoking, faking
Smiles, glances, eyebrows, advances
Cigarettes, ****, flying, skied
Leaving, time, behind, I'm
Sweat, sweet, dalliance, discreet
Screamed, moaned, words, intoned

So how was your Sunday night!?
Jun 2018 · 452
Loss of Happiness
Cana Jun 2018
You killed the child in me.
A brutal ****** it was,
no mercy for his gentle soul.
His wide eyed wonder gone.

He was doused in gasoline,
and swiftly set alight
turned from happy kid,
to raging inferno, lit the night

His ashes did not have time to cool
before a stirring in their midst.
A cynical angry man did rise,
Not a phoenix borne of myth.

For now it hurts, just to smile
there's no mirth in my eye.
My laughter lines are obsolete
Just extensions of my frown.
Jun 2018 · 186
Cana Jun 2018
Spoilt little *****
Demanding this and demanding that.
Take advantage of a situation.
Make the unexpected the norm.
Care the alms, care the hand,
for arms and hands are what you'll lose.
Benevolence and generosity
are treated as weaknesses, flawed characters being nice.
Smiles are kind, faces glowing, eyes, testing.
Be clear of your intent of kindness.
Once off, no expectations.
I'm ******* angry at this horse ****!
Note to self
Jun 2018 · 603
We'll call her fruit
Cana Jun 2018
Theres a girl I know
That walks the shore
her hair, stranded gold.
Her eyes are emeralds
drenched in sunlight.
Her nose of noble mould

She's clumsy but she's grace
She doesn't like her heels
She can take her bra off with shirt in place
She gives me magical feels

Her smile is pure adrenaline
Her legs are silken cloth
The junction drives my mind insane
Her, blazing fire. Me, awestruck moth

I thought I'd loved, in my past
In fact, I knew I had
I've cradled my blood soaked heart
In hands of molten sand

But looking at my fruity girl
Drives all that bunk away
She makes me smile and dance and twirl
She makes me happy, Everyday.
Jun 2018 · 346
The perfect pineapple
Cana Jun 2018
I bought a perfect pineapple
It screamed of being sweet.
It’s burnt orange blush,
It pale green spiked leaves.
To try and preserve such beauty,
Would bear sour fruit.
To fight for its posterity when it will not fight too.

So I lopped off it’s head
Carefully removed its fruit and
Casually discarded its core
And satisfied my craving
Done before you begin. Safe.
Live for the day. Trust no one with your heart. Seize what happiness you can make for yourself.
Jun 2018 · 304
Little miss sunshine
Cana Jun 2018
A little ray of sunshine fell across my path
We spoke a while of family and things.
We popped champagne and skied until dawn,
On slopes of fresh clean powder.
And then the clouds moved and my ray
went with them, up the coast for the summer.
To dance upon the ocean and glint in fair eyes and bring smiles to faces that need it more than mine.
She is pretty cool.
May 2018 · 223
Go Time
Cana May 2018
I heard a man once say.
“A good soldier can go from having a cup of tea to mind bending violence in the blink of an eye”
As action movie cool as this sounds
I found it weirdly troubling.
I don’t know why she swallowed a fly
Perhaps she’ll die.
May 2018 · 201
Giggling Gerties
Cana May 2018
A cackle of hens
A parliament of baboons
They giggle and guffaw
Ladylike buffoons

The alcohol flows
The snow falls deep
The dads watch through squinted eye
The Bahamas vibe, new age sheep

They waltz to their yachts
New dresses flowing
Their saunter falters
Their confidence still growing
The young girls on daddies boat, Partying in the Bahamas.
May 2018 · 197
Bahamian rainy saturdays
Cana May 2018
The skies were grey
The rain fell fat
Her smile was wide
Sheets, covered that.
Just another wet ol’ day.
May 2018 · 446
The book bar
Cana May 2018
To get lost on a shelf.
A journey, couch potato tourist,
Book upon book, fantastical and fact
An expergefactor for the literary senses.

A sofa that swallows you whole
with an old fashioned friend,
stirring bourbon thoughts and
swirling orange twists

A wall of books,
novels and tomes.
Hemingway nestled next to Palahniuk.
Generational angst and
Alphabetical Chaos!
May 2018 · 550
Est. whenever
Cana May 2018
Establishing hierarchical roles
Nicaean council for food stuffs
The meal that breaks ones fast
A culinary czar
His Rasputin, not another repast
His downfall not so obvious
A cuisine coup d’état,
Caffeinated beverages.
‘Twas coffee that stormed the breakfast Bastille
Our first meal seems to be a drink.
Apr 2018 · 300
3am chores
Cana Apr 2018
It’s 3am and I’m still up
Not for the usual reasons.
There’s no beasts at my door
Nary a cloud to threaten my pate with showers
Not a beat or a drop being drunk
No trains to far off snow streaked drips
Nor a silken skinned goddess thieving my sleep
With manacling locks and glazed over eyes
It’s more mundane and a lot less dramatic
Making calls to far off lands
Organising, rectifying.
Office work for the witching hours
Adulting is such fun
We do what we have to :(
Apr 2018 · 377
Spring Bird Haiku
Cana Apr 2018
I was sat so still
A bird landed on my foot
Whose fright was bigger?
Apr 2018 · 475
Spring bird
Cana Apr 2018
Spring time morning sun
Warming my back,
I got lost in the pages of hello poetry
A gargoyle perched on a step
Unmoving, hesitantly... statuesque

A northern mockingbird took rest on my foot
A moments respite from beating wing
And gravity defying flight
My poor heart jumped at his sudden touch
And my foot ****** up and away
Those unexpected scratchings
My coffee cup flying

The mockingbird was no better
All grace and glide destroyed
Frantic scrabble of feathered pinions
Escape from this simulacrum come to life.

Now, From his new purchase he examines me
Suspicious eyes, blaming.
An oddity such as me. And I him.

Needless to say, we both barely survived the encounter.
I almost died from fright. So did he though. So we’re even.
Fort Lauderdale birds. Eish
Apr 2018 · 273
Cana Apr 2018
Conspiracy nuts
Say lizards rule the whole world
I'm going with no
Haiku for a little lizard I saw chilling in the sun today.
Apr 2018 · 415
Invisible dinner time
Cana Apr 2018
They whirl and swirl and dive
But do they?
The no see ‘ems, You can’t see ‘em
but you can feel them there
Cavorting and frolicking, invisible in the air
A dinner time dance, gluttonous splurge
You’ll know all about their evening soirée
When you discover the main course is
… You.
Stupid bugs. Biting my legs. I look like a ****** addict that can’t tell his legs from his arms.
Apr 2018 · 332
The fight.
Cana Apr 2018
The fight, dear one.
Is not in the day
surrounded by faces
You’ll forget anyway.

The fight, my dude
Is in the stillness of night
When your thoughts run free
No distractions in sight

The fight, my friend
Is not at your work
To ****** the eunuchs
Sway the unswayable Turk.

The fight, little one
Is inside your mind
With thoughts of not good enough
Dispel them, be kind.

The fight, old girl
Is not in your home
Where your husband is wallowing
In chairs of black styrofoam

The fight, my sister
Is for the light in you
It’s always burned so bright
Stop worrying, let it shine through!
Be strong little one, set your goals, work towards them with blind ambition, do not let the world around you destroy your light.
Apr 2018 · 172
Cana Apr 2018
Get on up
It's spring time in the city
Count your eggs
Apr 2018 · 206
Cana Apr 2018
“I do not weep, do you”
I almost did today.
Hearing a voice I hadn’t in a while

I have four

One wrapped in guilt and shame
Though it should not be.
It’s a free voice now, one that speaks with delight
Where there once was pain.

One that is shrouded in the depths
Buried and hopefully never to be heard again
A voice that changed mine
For better or worse I do not know

One that is logic and tempered steel
A firm and conscientious whisper
Where fire and chaos fight to control
My eager and reckless heart

One that is beauty and love.
It makes me burst and fills me
To the point of tears for
Not having heard it in months

These are my angels and demons.
My queens and tyrants.
My sins and sanctuaries
Meh. I didn’t edit or anything.
Just put it down and set it up
Apr 2018 · 212
Let’s get it right
Cana Apr 2018
A shiny loose tooth
Is something people can lose
Vice Versa? NO!
How is this so difficult for people to get?
Loose has two O’s and you LOSE one of them.
Apr 2018 · 243
Busiest of boys
Cana Apr 2018
I haven't penned a thing
I've been as busy as hell
The sun is rising
I’ll be back soon. Just dealing with injured family member and blah blah blah blah, what?
Mar 2018 · 406
Llamas and Lambs?
Cana Mar 2018
My story of us
Of a clock blonde ticking
Counting the sheep until apocalypse
A simple verse would not suffice
Nor would a complexity borne of years.

A deluge of elocution,
Remembrance drowned.
The fickle combination of
Llamas and lambs grazing
In my backyard alongside other

The llamas wear glasses sometimes

Anguished intellectuals
Locked up in bedrooms
Chained to porches.
Their advice is good
Their words wise and thoughtful
Themselves, ****** up.

Ink stained tomes littering desks.
Nail bitten fingers clinging to pens.
Red veined eyes squinting at parchment
Words given life. But to follow ones own advice?

Rare is the joyous bespectacled llama
Bestowing wisdom onto the sheep
Watching them frolicking on the lawn
Trying to find rhythm in gangly legs
Urgently, awkwardly alone.
I just spat words onto a page.
You figure it out. I’m still trying to.
Mar 2018 · 4.1k
My favourite sentence
Cana Mar 2018
My second favourite sentence is.
“I’m going to get coffee”
My favourite sentence is
“Would you like some too”
Mar 2018 · 371
Food Truck Festival
Cana Mar 2018
Tacos, pulled pork and quesadillas
Garish and gaudy being the clarion call
for the food truck battalion
An armoury of captivating aromas
Savoury propaganda mastered.
The war is won.
A shorty for a Tuesday evening. I’m so stuffed.
Mar 2018 · 487
This I write
Cana Mar 2018
This I write to you
From the deepest sea
Where the gentle swell
rolls the boat softly

For it is here I am left
To contemplate my life
And the choices I’ve made
That extol my strife

I made them then
What’s done is done
They’re mine to own
Each and every one.

But I am the product of
These decisions of mine
And I’d do them again
Time after time

And so, this I write to you
From the deepest sea
Where the gentle swell
rolls the boat softly

And all I can say is I’m sorry.
To me.
I am literally in the middle of the sea. With nothing but my thoughts to entertain and torture me.
Mar 2018 · 186
A picture
Cana Mar 2018
I hung up a picture,
Centre wall, a place of prominence.
And as my house burned down around me
I desperately tried to save it.
But the heat made it bubble
And change, it became a nightmare,
an Odilon Redon.
Retrospectively it may have
always been so.

I was just blind.
Our minds sometimes stop working
Mar 2018 · 169
Cana Mar 2018
A lock, enthralled by a fist.
A mouth, enamoured by a neck.  
A picture, on this Friday wall.
Goodnight and definitely good morning.
Mar 2018 · 357
BBQ Braai
Cana Mar 2018
Dockside and braai
*** and candy on the speaker
Fire crackling merrily
Burgers marinating
*** captivating
Me salivating
The better way to spend the day.
Cana Mar 2018
The baroque grandeur of
Warm seas on velvety spring evenings
Is in stark contrast to the ache
In my hands from the aircon being
Just too ******* cold.


Who do these stars think they are?
This heavenly phosphorescence
Placed so precisely on the lapel of
The night sky.
A supernova pocket square?


What is the story with this ***?
Wheedling it’s way down my throat
To try and melt the tremors in
The pit of my belly.
It’s ****** well working.
Mar 2018 · 585
Cana Mar 2018
The Bougainvillea cares not for the needs of its guests.
It throws its pink shade regardless,
over rock and sand and weary travellers.
‘Twas not a poem but a statement
Mar 2018 · 395
Let’s go
Cana Mar 2018
Let’s go, you and I.
And sweat beneath the African sky
Watch the lions lazing
And the wild dogs playing.  
We can sip Amarula
And listen to the hyenas laugh and cry
As the mythical sunset
Silhouettes giraffes and Acacia trees.

Let’s go, you and I
And walk the streets of old town Barcelona.
Find old timey cafe and luxuriate
In sangria and itty bitty tapas
Stroll by Sagrada and gawp
At Gaudi’s home.
Maybe we’ll stop for some ice cream
Maybe we’ll just go back to the hotel

Let’s go, you and I
And swim the blue blue seas of the Bahamas
Nervously Play with the nurse sharks
Hoping they’re not the other sharks
Take those long walks on those beaches
That everyone likes.
We’ll sit on Jankanoo and drink sky juice
Until we can truly reach the heavens

Let’s go, you and I
And ski the Slopes of the Swiss alps
We can stop at small cabins and drink
heartwarming schnapps
Take trains that slink around mountains
And sprint through white capped forests
We can put snow down the backs
Of each others jackets and
Squeal in furious delight.

Let’s go, you and I.
And squish our way through the streets of New York
Relieved when we can pop into a shop
To escape the crowds.
Necks sore from looking up
Small town people in the Big Apple City
Central Park for pretzels and Snapple
Times Square later, neon addiction sated.
And a boat ride to see lady liberty

Let’s go, you and I
And bare our feet in Balinese temples
Speak to the monks in broken English
And then retire to our curtained gazebo
To indulge in the sins they can’t
We’ll get massages and champagne
Then ride our bikes along pothole
Ridden dirt roads.

Let’s go, you and I
And get Nuevo Chic in London’s west end
We can catch a show in tux and evening gown
Then head to the pub and catch a pint
We can walk the trail, hunt Jack the Ripper
And visit The Tower.
Cross the Thames and maybe
No definitely
Another pint in some quaint little place.

Let’s go, you and I
And lie in bed late on lazy Sunday mornings
I’ll poach the eggs and make the hollandaise
You can put some upbeat daytime jazz on
Then we can go sit in the garden
Under the oak tree and read
Each other poetry
Until it’s much much later
I want this
Mar 2018 · 251
Long night
Cana Mar 2018
The night is old
And my eyes are heavy
Heavy, a puppy held too long.
You’d think I’d sleep. But the door lies open
Staring at me,
The threshold slathered in anxious thoughts
Responsibility, a feather, a mountain
The reminder is onerous and incessant
Inescapable, tied to the wall
Must sleep. Please!
I did get to sleep eventually
Mar 2018 · 208
American TV
Cana Mar 2018
I’d like to say thank you
For showing me how
To pick out the Big Dipper
In a strangely starred sky.
im a self taugh astrologer. Kinda. Not really though
Mar 2018 · 269
Cana Mar 2018
We find it in the bottom of a cup
In a wine glass or beer mug
Imbibing all manner of spirits
Until the blackness takes hold.

Or in a person who eases our spirit
A phone call, a message.
Acknowledging our existence
And letting us know we’re loved

Some people find it in lines on a mirror
Or in a needle that leaves scars
It’s smoked off of a spoon
Or rolled in some paper

Other people cut, pain to ease pain
Slicing away bits of anxiety and flesh
Leaving thin long reminders of
Feelings best forgotten

Some find it in poetry, vomiting feelings
Onto a pristine white page until
It’s full and stained in emotion  
An artwork of agony

A few seek moments alone to
Close their eyes and meditate.
Counting breaths and clearing imagination
Getting lost in the maze of their minds

Some brave individuals
Listen to blues and sorrow
Their anxieties leaking from their eyes
And out of their noses.

Me. Maybe I do them all
Maybe I don’t.
Mar 2018 · 254
For an anonymous no one
Cana Mar 2018
I don’t write about you.
I daren’t, for my anger and resent
Could only portray you in the worst
Possible manner.
So I’d rather not.
I’d rather not indulge the bitter acid inside
I’d rather remember you before the
Heartache and pain, a flashing smile
And a twinkling eye. A glow and presence.

I do not miss you, not anymore.
I count our parting as one of the great blessings
One of the bullets dodged.
And rightfully so.
Duality in destruction
Can never come to any good

I do not hate you. I Never did
Surprising, I know.
Such feeling is reserved for enemies
And even then sparsely.
I hate things because of you.
But not you. I pity you.

Nonetheless I write this that one day
Whether it’s read or not
You will know. That I hope you are ok
That your zebra comes home
That your lion doesn’t eat you
I’d wish you happiness

Au revoir, bon voyage, goodbye

Sincerely your “no longer a friend”
Unrequited, unfettered, undone.
The ubiquitous message to people we no longer know.
Mar 2018 · 299
Little Pink House
Cana Mar 2018
Peppered walls, pocked and pink
Stand proud.
Little thing, shutters agape and haggard
Stand proud.
Someone calls you a home, a house, mine
Stand proud.
You’re a shelter, a solace, a sanctuary
Stand proud.
Though beside you rise glass and steel
Stand proud.
You dominate, unique, one
Stand proud.
You’re loved, you leak, you’re you
Stand proud.
A quaint little house on a busy metropolitan street
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