8 | 31 Poems for August 2016

I miss you right after my first cup of coffee in the morning or before my last glass of wine in the evening.
I miss you right before my 8 a.m. class on Monday or at 2 a.m. on a Sunday when I can’t seem to fall asleep.
When I can’t seem to fall asleep I inevitably fall on my knees and pray for a better day, pray that you stay.
I’m Lonnie Lynn with the poetry and maybe that explains why we have a lot in common.
We have a lot in common, Alicia Keys expressed similar sentiments and I am just being honest with you.
Look me in my starry eyes and tell me that everything will be okay.
I cannot give you the world but I pray that you stay for more than just another day.
When nothing else in the world makes sense, somehow you always do.
These are more than just compliments, more than just a guy trying to flex his confidence.

7 | 31 Poems for August 2016

I wish heaven had visiting hours so everything you envisioned would be ours.
You promised me that I would never lose you to the wind no matter how hard it would blow.
But you’re gone now, you’re gone and the detrimental effect of your absence has started to show.
I still pray for better days to come my way but I can’t be too worried about what happens tomorrow.
I’m living on borrowed time; my days are numbered like a calendar and lately I’ve been feeling like the king of sorrow.
You showed me how to live life to the fullest but never taught me how to live without you.
Now my blue skies have faded to grey and my Mondays have gone blue.
You’ve drifted away like autumn leaves on a windy street, I guess heaven couldn’t wait for you.
But I am glad that you’re in a better place, the thought of you always puts a smile on my face.
I wish heaven had visiting hours so every beautiful thing you envisioned would be ours.

i.

my nettles sting,
my mind dreams
of ghosts,
nothing seems
to settle
under that hovering
sky of wire.

ii.

lost to a broken civilization
in a sky of sighs
caves filled with
ice.

iii.

further than the sky,
further than the sea.

iv.

dreams like drowning
pools

the waving wind
the castles of the mind.


v.

shadows
unwinding
the slow pulse of
the earth,
like the battling
waves,
like the far, far
dream of a star.

6 | 31 Poems for August 2016

Here I stand, gradually disintegrating just so I can remain whole.
It’s interestingly sad to see how many people that are alive feel dead to me.
Your kind words are smooth like a fresh cup of latté but I need something stronger to battle this heartache.
Got nothing to read except the words I effortlessly wrote last night and a few James Patterson novels.
Time is wasted so I patiently wait for the clock to get sober eventually.
The sincerity of my words is embedded in the movement of my metaphors, similes, adjectives and verbs.
I love waking up whole to the bonfire of a warm and loving soul.
But you will eventually grow tired of me, somehow they all do.
Everything is slowly falling apart, I just wish I had full control.
All I can do is sit and helplessly watch while the debris flies over me.
Here I stand, gradually disintegrating just so I can remain whole.
I love waking up whole to the bonfire of a warm and loving soul.
But I hope that you never grow tired of me unlike how everyone did.

3 | 31 Poems for August 2016

Feeling like an abandoned church but in your eyes I’ll always be a cathedral.
These blue skies fade to grey while I pray to ease the burden of a bad day.
My strength and happiness are gone; I can feel myself gradually fading away.
Not even Mandela money could buy me freedom in a dollar-based economy.
In a world saturated with poverty, politicians are still protecting their pockets.
They are constantly making you think that the power is in your hands but this is not a Cell C ad.
So be careful of who you give your power to because you may never see this freedom they highly speak of.
Everyone is claiming that they represent the youth but you can go back and listen to Ghetto Gospel and hear the truth.
Even with the humour of an established comedian, they wouldn’t be Trevor Noah funny.
Laughing all the way to the bank, we also aim to receive Trevor Noah money.
Give me all the best and worst parts of you and a room with a wonderful view.
Give me a blank page and a beautiful muse and you’ll marvel at what I can do.
The world is my canvas; Picasso would’ve loved to see all the resplendent pictures that I’ve painted.
I wrote plenty peaceful poems picturing politicians perpetuating poverty.
No uncertainty, this is a cold war and we all know what we’re fighting for.
In a world saturated with poverty, politicians are still protecting their pockets.
Blue skies fade to grey while I pray to ease the burden of a bad day.
Hopefully everything will be okay even if things don’t go our way.

2 | 31 Poems for August 2016

A poem written by my heart so every single word you hear is a pulse.
I’m a literary writer living inside the mind of a spoken-word poet.
I still write beautiful words; you can ask Luyanda – even she knows it.
Things change, circles grow smaller, conversations get shorter and eventually hearts grow distant.
But I’m glad that Luyanda, Faith and I still manage to talk every now and then.
It’s sad to see that you’re not around, it’s like you just disappeared into thin air.
Still hoping that you’d call or text but you’ve probably lost my numbers by now.
If you’re willing to talk to me, I promise to listen like I always do.
You can count on me like an abacus, sounds cliché but you know it’s true.
Even if things don’t always go my way, I just hope that everything will be okay.
I’m learning to embrace a metamorphosis I was previously oblivious to.
It’s still no mystery why my aura will always long for the company of yours.
I’m a literary writer living inside the mind of a spoken-word poet.
I still write beautiful words; you can ask William – even he knows it.
Time is wasted so I patiently wait for the clock to get sober eventually.
Things change but I’m glad that William, Terrence and I still manage to talk every now and then.
It’s sad to see that you’re not around, it’s like you just disappeared into thin air.
Still hoping that you’d call or text but you’ve probably lost all touch with most people by now.

1 | 31 Poems for August 2016

Before I put my words and wishes in a poem, I put them in a prayer first.
Luyanda once told me that I don’t always have to rhyme every time I write these words down.
She also regularly told me that I need to smile twice as much as I frown.
I have been a loner, way before my peers began smoking marijuana.
Sitting in the local park or standing on some dodgy neighbourhood corner.
But I can’t judge them, sometimes I want to get lost in those same clouds too.
They all get so high to the point where they cannot even see the ground.
I’m from the city where jacaranda trees light up the streets with their purple blooms, but I’ve told you before.
Spoken words filled with so much truth, I had to reiterate the quotes I wrote back in my youth.
You need to know the value of life before it gets taken away from you.
Will you be a victim of the past or pay homage to your mother’s womb?
View the kaleidoscope of life through the perspective of a spoken-word poet.
Freedom and love are like finding forever and I hope that everyone in my life knows it.
Let’s all meet in the pages of a story where the ink always holds us together.
Every poem of mine is written from the heart so every single word you hear is guaranteed to be a pulse.
I have been a loner, way before my peers began smoking marijuana.
Before I put my words and wishes in a poem, I put them in a prayer first.
Luyanda once told me that I don’t always have to rhyme every time I write these words down.
She also regularly told me that I need to smile twice as much as I frown.
I’m Lonnie Lynn with the poetry and maybe that explains why we have a lot in common.

My friend WolfSpirit was silenced, at Hello Poetry to-day
His only fault was to defend himself, from what the louder voices did say
As my friendship, with him won't be broken
I shall depart the site, now that I've spoken.

someone's in the next room over
having *** while we
are weeping
what a way to mark the occasion
the day my fingers found a wound
you let someone else doctor
it's upsetting see
the bible in drawer next to us
the way our hands still
fit together
like the torn halves
of a love letter
the way you got
all dressed up like the rain
and how we couldn't tell
the difference in the shower
it was the longest hour and a half
spent crying
the hot water wouldn't give up
so why should we
right?
even though it was scalding
neither of us touched the ****
we knew this was supposed to hurt
your hair
a black mess against my shoulder
my fingers
oil in the vinegar of your hands
our bodies
the great divide
all the sobbing
a river runs through it
without the courage
to carry or **** us
so we step out
and drip dry
down to a mute breakfast
composed of quiet
and last nights liquor
as we came back in
there were people in our room
at first i thought them detectives
dissecting things
to see who had died here
i had forgotten this
was a hotel
and they were only
cleaning up after us
i wanted to stop them
plead
that the sheets were still perfect
that if they clean the bathroom
no one will know
what happened here
someone has to remember
"please
i know
these cigarette burns
by name
i will bury the faucet
let me take the tub
i don't care how
if i have to
i will drag it home by hand"

our love was a war against the wrong time and the wrong place
our love was a war with what should have been and what never would be
our love was a war between what we believed and what we felt
our love was a war between saving others and destroying ourselves
our love left our bodies on the battlefield waiting for vultures to strip the bones and now I've got a thousand pieces of I love you stuck like shrapnel behind my ribs