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  Oct 2017 Sid
Tufayl Myburgh
Writing creates a paradigm.

Much like a camera, it is a paradigm that we can look through in order to see the world, or create one, from a different perspective.

I decided to step away from my art and look at the lens itself instead of looking through it.

What I found is that we are able to paint pictures with words, pictures that don’t exist and we can create artworks with those pictures that allow you to see them in the most magical way possible while knowing that each artwork is different and unique depending on the person that composes it.

It is being able to travel the world as we know it through symbols and letters while not moving an inch from where we are in time and lead ourselves to a beautiful yet twisted sense of duality.

Maybe it’s the feeling of godhood in creating life, worlds or even stories yet I am still human but I become a god outside of time.

I take my imagination and make it tangible.

They say actions speak louder than words but I am a writer and words are all I have. So, maybe one day, as these words drip from my fingertips they will find you and they will drown your thoughts with beautiful pictures and hopefully, you might just understand,

Why we write.

They say actions speak louder than words,

But there’s still a reason why the pen is mightier than the sword.
Trying to express a passionate love with words is harder than it looks...
  Oct 2017 Sid
Anna Blake
it's you.

i would have never known
unless i saw
the light meet your face
that morning.

neither of us are early risers,
but i couldn't waste
a second.

above me,
at 6:40 in the morning,
a perfect blend of
blue, gray, and sincerity,
which was born
on the rising sun,
peered through an ivory curtain,
and landed on a gentle face.

infinity soaked gaze,
honey coated touch,

your color was
the crisp mountain air
through a rolled down
Jeep window.

your color was
a John Prine record
and local barbeque

your color was serene.
it was the light's reflection of
a summer enveloped
by two people
in love with
right now.

-Anna Blake
  Oct 2017 Sid
girl diffused
you tried to feed
me stardust
sway and hold me
as we danced

you tried to make a home
out of me
open my shutters
let the light
flood inside
push sheer magenta
curtains aside

you tried to run
your fingers reverently
over my rosewood

you tried to ***** my home
raise it from the island
kiss my lips after broken
storms hold my hands in your own convince me that you  replaced my old
broken doors
peeling paint and vinyl siding

you tried to
feed me stardust
sway and hold me
as we danced

you tried to make
a home out of me
but I was really an island
ready to be claimed
by the fire and the sea
Sid Oct 2017
maybe i'll continue convincing myself that equal amounts of
rays & rain = rainbows;
maybe a quarter of this water
equates to tears
(can't tell if they're the clouds'
or mine);
explain to me why two thirds of my mind
is flung halfway across the globe;
maybe friends are discovered
like how you'd find your shadow
(too busy being blinded by the streetlights to look back)

// maybe a fraction of me
refuses to ignore this feeling //
inspired by the song Lose the feeling by Sundara Karma
  Oct 2017 Sid
girl diffused
We felt the wistfulness and urging
Somewhere in the pale light
Slanting across our bodies
Submerged in a bed that smelled of our discarded childhoods
Tasted of our desperation and craving for love
Devoid of anything saccharine, bitter in the aftertaste

In the early morning I laid there, on top of you
Warmth trailing from your body,
Snaking across the smooth planes of my stomach
You cradling me like I wished my father could have
Fingers threading through my hair
Untangling the knots from my childhood

You spoke into my hairline,
Christened yourself repeatedly on my skin
Your voice was a Freudian call
Above the dirge of angry tidal water
Echoing from the corpses of our past

We felt the wistfulness and urging
Somewhere in the pale light
Slanting across our faces
Verdant green of your eyes hypnotizing me
I splayed my fingers against your chest
Felt your ****** harden against the soft pad

I remembered the taste of sweet tomatoes, plump, ripe
Bursting juice onto my tongue
Coffee-soaked ladyfingers
Dappled sunlight streaming through leaves
Blue cloudless sky
Peals of youthful laughter
The smell of your mother's car—Pine Air Freshener
Her rosary swaying back and forth
A religious sacred pendulum

We felt the wistfulness and urging
Somewhere in the duller light
Slanting across our skin
Our contrasting polarizing canvases
We mourned each other in our brokenness
And in the pale evening,
Tried to assemble our skeletons back together
ambedo
n. a kind of melancholic trance in which you become completely absorbed in vivid sensory details—raindrops skittering down a window, tall trees leaning in the wind, clouds of cream swirling in your coffee—briefly soaking in the experience of being alive, an act that is done purely for its own sake.

{taken from "The Dictionary of Obscure Words."}
Sid Oct 2017
Jagged red lines where chemistry turned from paper scribbles to unplugged electricity
and the only marks I cared to count
splayed across your skin
rendered me useless.
This isn't geography;
people aren't maps
so
stop
searching
for permanence in temporary markers-
they call it pit stops for a reason
though
I keep finding people that can
conveniently
mend
flat souls.
// what they don't tell you in school //
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