i'd like for you to fight
as i would fight for you
(if i could)
had the plates of my armour
not resumed the shelled perfection
of cowardice

i'd like for you to
fight
throw fury-fuelled punches
at  the barricading fists
of something like fate

i
i'd like for you to
fight
curtail the cold blow
of circumstance
trump those phantom forces
dear destiny
every rigid bone man has erected
to create something tangible, cheap and ephemeral
of love

i'd like for you to wait for me
as i would wait for you
had i the certainty
the certainty of
a  gallery of your faces
Vivid and quick to the frantic reaping
Grasp Of recollection

I’d like for you to mirror my gaze
Resurrect unfiltered feeling of  affection
And woe begone worship
Tormented to swoons of silence
By cerebral guard with their spears of reason
Before it could reach the parting gates of my lips
I'd like to you to resurrect these thoughts
With the elixir of your tongue


Speak the words I dare to think
I’d like for you to fight for me
Wait for me
add premise to the promise
Come claim your rightful throne
In the hierarchy of this heart.

driven. motivated. to the point of insomnia. getting rid of every toxic thought and feeling that's rendered me immobile, that has poisoned me paralysed-unable to lift a single finger, to nurture the dreams that were fertile in my mindfield.

i am going to achieve everything i set out to do in small steps, however long it will take me :)

lay your hands
on my body
where you left
an indelible mark
where you sculpted and chiselled
this now inert
block

at night
i cannot wait
to fall into
the phantom arms of you
wispy limbs
given substance only
by memory

then
close my eyes
and have my mind
play reels of colourful dream


i drank in the night
the fermented fruit
of fantasy

i woke to the sight
of blinds guarding me
from the harshest of lights
sober
stale
reality

so i see

our words were vacant
our thoughts brimmed
our words
only
empty clauses
filled with pregnant pauses

met nat oë en stem rasper-hees
sal sy my eers
met kaneel en gemmer genees
met swaar lyf en kop wat klop
salf sy my eers
met heuningwoorde gesond

en wanneer die lewe my hoogtak-drome snoei
bewerk sy my sodat ek opnuut kan groei
met die seer wat nog so rou in haar talm
bid sy eers die onrus in my kalm

en ek weet saans ween en woed
onverbiddelike storms
in haar gemoed
en dan soggens uitgespoel en broos
is sy nooit te swak om haar kroos
eersmaal te troos
vir speelgrond wond of hart wat breek
terwyl daar dubbeltjies soveel dieper
in haar insteek

die plooikuiltjies waar daar gedurig riviere deurgeloop het
vir elke afvlerkkind
die lyntjies waar sy op die mooiste wyse
haarself met ander verbind
waar sy soveel ander se seer verberg
ten spyte van alles wat dit van haar verg

hier sit ek stil en verwonder my
aan Ma se halfweghuis hart wat altyd oopbly

Three waning figures rose and fell
under the waxing charms of moonspell