As the fifth unknown actor gave their heartfelt speech after winning an award,
She realised that all her efforts to win little trophies at school,
just to stamp her name on something to feel the slightest bit accomplished,
Because who really notices your wins in the end except for yourself?
The realisation that things should only really matter to yourself.
'One spliff a day'
Everything has a balance.
there is a give and take in all we do
a little bit of this
a little bit of that
But we all have addictions
And balance is hard to achieve
The lady that goes running in the heat of the day
The man that pumps weights for hours on end
My friend who parties to forget
Me, when I'm thinking of you
Balance cannot exist here
Where people are hurting
And that is why I'm on the third smoke of the morning
And my friend wakes up hungover, but continues drinking
And the man aches, but pushes through to finally feel good
And the lady becomes lightheaded, yet runs faster.
Give a lot, get little.
And then she realised that
All stories die with the people who made them...
What a devastating truth to know that so many wonderful stories lie between the dust of had-been peoples.
She used to flaunt around with whispers of whiffs of **** and cigarette smoke sunken into her sweaters and wavy locks.
When she left, he longed for the smell of what he once had, so he started hanging around the potheads and chainsmokers of the campus
But soon, he realized that it was not just the smell of scorched planty fibers that he longed for,
It was the smell of her without and before the addictions,
How sweet and sticky it was in the late summer nights,
How her breath toyed with the hairs of his neck.
But he mostly just missed the presence of another being that could make him realize he is
Still able to be.
Once, you confidently exclaimed that you
That is why it hurt the most
when you told me of the regret you feel for letting me into your life.
As I sit and spread out what you spoke for the hundredth time,
I realize that I was not ready for this
For a once-off fling
And it's not the *** that ******* me over,
It's all the days spent laughing and listening to your stories,
Doing broke things and having unplanned sleep overs,
Watching movies while you play with my hair,
Having morning smokes and coffee while people-watching on the veranda.
I invested so much time
And I cared,
I still do
I've become used to you.
And I had hope
That you would eventually see me in the same light as I you,
That you would notice me in the way I notice every interesting detail about you.
But you wanted a fling
And I agreed.
And now I'm sad
Because I will probably wait for you to be ready
Knowing the time will never come.
And I cannot begin to fathom the ache I'll have when I have to see you with someone else, someone more interesting,
More open to new things.
And I'm angry that I told myself that, maybe just this once,
I should open myself up
And try to put myself out there despite the fear of getting hurt.
I am not ready to let you go,
But I need to protect myself
And I will mourn this loss
Because you are everything and so much more.
Sigarette en sonskyn
Dagga en rooiwyn
Ek wil vergeet
Ek wil gelukkig wees
Ek wil lewe sonder vrees
Maar die wereld gaan dood
En Armoede verstik aan droe brood
Ek nodig sigarette en sonskyn
Ek is opsoek na goeie tye met dagga en rooiwyn
Die wereld maak seer, maar ons kan vergeet
En probeer gelukkig wees.
om die langpad Kaap toe deur te dring met Afrikaans is Groot treffers omdat jy sien *** Pappa sy vingers teen die maat van die ritme tik.
Dis om te weet dat Mamma wel omgee al is sy soms te besig om na jou gunsteling gedigte te luister.
Dis om saam met Boeties rugby te speel al wil jou lyf al vir jare nie meer hardloop en rond gestamp word nie.
Liefde woon hier
Tussen die gee en kry,
Tussen die op offeringe,
Tussen ons almal.
First the one eye
Then, groggily the other
A bit of drool on my pillow
And my eyelids begin to flutter.
The finches on the veranda begin to chirp,
The dull lull of Hawaii Five-0 hums in the living room
The morning rays pinch through the curtains,
The gardener sweeps, coughs and sweeps once more with his broom.
I get up
Cold wooden floorboards creak in the passage,
The sticky smell of boiling porridge kisses my nose
Mom and Nanny are discussing the day's work
While Dad uses tea to still his sorrows.
The washing machine cackles in the back,
And Mike barks for food at the door.
This is the place where I grew,
This is the place I adore.
And now, I get up to move around,
I get up and it feels like holiday.
I will cherish this little place of memories
And I will take it with me when I go
Thirty five degrees
Wet sticky sand
Dripping ice creams
Rolling waves upon splashing bodies
Boardwalkers hand in hand
I find myself beneath the air conditioning,
Cheek stains from the films watched before,
Legs sticking to one another,
Stomach swelling up over clothes,
Dripping ice creams and crumbling cookies,
Rolling waves of guilt and self-pity.
My depression and I lay on the couch
Hand in hand.
I've been struggling for years to feel comfortable in my own skin, it gets especially tough in the Summer time when so many people show skin and enjoy themselves in the open.
Take me to late-night, dim-lit poetry evenings in untrustworthy safe spaces where we can shyly smile at one another and let our tongues and eyes dance to the clicking of fingers and amplitudes of words,
Take me to drink cheap wine at crusty places,
To savour the cheap thrill of one, maybe two, but never more than two, sweet, sweet Rosés.
Take me for takeaway lattés and cringy sad-movie songs that we can lament to on the drive in your car where we can gaze at the yellow city lights shading the glimmer of oceanic blues.
Take me to puff hubbly smoke at your house or stream poorly thought out comedies while eating buttery, stale popcorn.
Don't take me to clubs or fancy expensive restaurants or any grand social events.
Don't take me to places where I'll have to compete for your attention.
Stay with me and stay simple
Understand that I am not like the majority of people you may know
Understand that all people are different and they won't swoon for the same things
And above all, try and understand me,
That is all I'm asking for
That is all you need to do to take me somewhere nice.
You flip your fingers through your ever shining locks and gracefully saunter through the halls
The heads turn as the masses gleefully greet and smile at the beauty of how your pieces are placed together oh so precisely
You held power, plenty of it
And I was in the way
It was strange to see the reactions on the faces of familiars when I told them of the crushing things you could accomplish.
None wanted to believe that such a beauty could hold such a bite.
And I tried to convince myself of that too.
Plentiful years have passed and all have moved on
Yet I stay stuck in these empty halls
Wondering why your bite took so long to become infected
Wondering what remedy could treat this ancient ailment.
The music blares
And I'm stuck between bodies
Pasted together from all the perspiration,
That's when I burn from your stare
Enveloped by blue seriousness
And the crease of your frown,
You want to smile,
And something in me
Is convinced of your earnestness
I peep back with a little bit of uncertainty,
A little bit of desire
Why would you need to peer at me?
An eon of futuristic images shine in my eyes,
It's so easy to see happiness,
To feel warmth
To smell coffee next to you in the morning
But I know you don't deserve me...
You deserve more than ill health,
More than self-pity,
More than anxious worrying
So that's why
When the music blares
And I'm stuck between bodies
Pasted together from all the perspiration,
And I burn from your stare,
That I never look at you
Because I know you should save your stares for someone who you might appreciate more.
I'm a poor psych student majoring in emotions- lots of them- and awkward missed opportunities.
I guess you could say I'm unstable and in need of a massive outlet
Or I just need to grow up...
Your eyes met hers after having traveled distant countries and having seen different shores
'do you know her?' friends ask.
And you recall her once taking you to a parking lot under the moon to listen to music in the car.
You think of the time she decided to walk you to the shops in the budding storm.
You think of how odd she was,
How you have always been intrigued by it,
How much you loved her.
But she is a headfuck
and you wanted to get away before you could get messed up.
Before SHE could mess you up.
'used to' you tell them.
It has become an unbearable thought to drag around this body that no longer feels like my own
I hate that I know its limits and lacks,
It's excess and ungodly elaborations
I hate that I feel stuck
And erasing my outlines won't change the already coloured-in picture,
So I guess I'll have to make use of magic markers to add and deduct some inner colours in order to feel weightless once again.
I was feeling stuck and Wonder came up on television. This poem was going to go in a different direction until then.
And in the months I've come to know you,
I've learned to appreciate your dramatic eye rolls,
The way you carefully place yourself around the words you speak,
How your delicate fingers will try to fix all the broken things they glide past,
How you manage to fully embrace who you are, without fearing the consequences.
You are magical and I aspire to be as bold in everything I do.
I have become more aware of who I am,
I have tried to practice away my weaknesses, harder and harder.
I am grateful that I have met you in this piece of my life.
I just hope you stay a little longer and find what I have to offer.
I hope you stay and see how much you've made me want to fix myself.
— The End —