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The sun set over the crematorium
the world paused for a second,
it was still,
and there was peace.
For Priscilla
To be dead is to be cold
still
unmoving
I am not dead
fluid
Full of motion
restless
I am a pen
on a screen
filled with words
made to sheen
it doesnt matter
  if my words lean
   it doesnt matter
    if my words  scream
     i am only dead
when i admit it
Always wanted , to be closer
Always wanted to love you more
Always given you my blood.

Always been drained of my blood
Always been loved to be used by you
Always Push away to be close to nothing

I thought of you in which thought should not be invested
Thinking the best dreams of innocent loyalty
Thinking of what you can see what I can give and show

Knowing that I have no looks, heart, or personality to you
Invisible , I know, yet popular with others, but not in you
knowing I do have more body parts than the fingers that hold money.

I am more than money, I know and I think, I have the heart of gold,
with knowledge that I have soul and personality, and and I know you are without the values.

Always thinking, I can do better, than to lose my freedom and sanity over you. I lost it all, basically in thought of you.
Always known I could be better, but love from me is real.

Always jaded in you, and of you. always death of the old me.
Poem based on memories of a person who has hurt me in the past.
k.o
It's not about how many times I knock you down.
It's about how many times you hold out your hand so I can help you back up.


When you're wrong you learn something new.
When you're right, you learn nothing.
I enjoy distance
Long drives with no destination
Music blaring,  miles growing

I enjoy distance
Long walks to nowhere
The peace calms my restless soul

I enjoy distance
Little steps each day
Away from difficult situations

I enjoy distance
Between people and places
And me

I enjoy distance
It gives perspective
Emancipation

I enjoy distance
I also enjoy coming home
When distance has run its course
 Jul 2015 Jeremiah Mhlongo
nivek
here we write our epic
from first post
to last bugle fading
and all your readers
throw in a handful of dirt
the day you stopped singing
and turn away to their bowers
to continue in this stranger than fiction endeavour
writing out their hearts and minds one big poem stitched together
My mentor spoke to me of two rivals,
Once, they had been friends in some distant past.
But the years have eaten their love and made grudges manifest.
|The two shattered into broken glass

To my wise master I asked only one,
One question... In all my range.
One question I asked:
“What changed?”

In the outskirts, at the home of my daughter
Where you can stare at the stars or passing cars
None more brighter than the other,
We share memories of my grandmother.
In the photographs, she looks so much younger.
Not frail, but a fighter, lover and saintly|

To me, she asks plainly,
One question, and one question only.
Sifting through the ages of years past:
“What Changed?”

At the kitchen table, feeling inadequate,
My lover screaming and frustrated,
I recall memories when we had been intimate.
Times when movement was made for desire and not duty
|A calendar of nights left in confused abstinence

I interrupt.
She delays rage.
I beg,
“What Changed?”

_

In the last few hours of night
The dawn reaches me at last.
I had locked moments-
Literal seconds of time as the truth.
But it was always changing
In flux and morphing.
Turning into something new
Just for a moment, and then on again
“What Changed?”
Everything.
Always.
 Jul 2015 Jeremiah Mhlongo
mk
too many poems
too many poets
describing the
same **** feelings
and yet
throughout the centuries
none of us
have ever found
the right words
// spent my whole life tryna put it into words //

thank you so much for the daily ♡
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