Merry Christmas Eve.
Merry Christmas Eve.

If I said holiday cheers one more time
it'd become redundant,
but to each of you
that chance upon this--
know that if I could
I would wish you a thousand splendid
Christmas Eves.

I would become the chain
children make in school
counting down the days till Christmas.

I'd become the warm smiles
with hands holding
even warmer coco
to keep you toasty; tis the season.

I'd bring fresh pine scent
and logs for the fire,
these will be here
to bring the aura of the holidays to your home.

I may not be a rich man,
more near to those you see
pitching for spare change;
this would never stop me
from finding you a gift to cherish.

I would give you all the time
you ever wanted and needed,
because I know that around the holidays
we all need a little bit more care.

Merry Christmas Eve.

7 hours of tears
An incessant cascade
Swollen eyes and pale face
Deep blue crescents carved
With blunt knives
By 1 hours sleep and
All functions cease because
You don't want me

When your 3am text shot me
It hit my spine and I was paralysed
The deepest layer of hell is ice
And that’s where my body resided
Agony spilling over into numbness
As infection set in
I stood in front of the tsunami of misery
And let it smash down on my head

I think it broke my skull
I keep finding fragments of me
On the shores of my subconscious
Trying to gently piece them together
Dedicated to the hunt and
Giving them everything
But they don’t want to come back
They say they need time

I wanted to care for you
Until you forgot how to be broken
But it was muscle memory for you
That didn't leave on whim
You had to break me too
Until I became the floor
Under your feet
That couldn't stop supporting you

I gave you my existence
But you gave me half
And I was still thirsty after
Half a glass of water
On a warm night
During passionate ***
But I'm even more parched
With the nothing I have now

Now I have to erase
Your dancing tiger eyes
Burning holes in mine
And talking
Late into the night
Until we hallucinated
And didn't know who we were talking to
Anymore

I just want you to stop leaving
Over and over
Like you do in my dreams
A thought loop I can’t leave
And even now you’re gone
You still want to play
With the wound in my chest
Picking off the scab when it tries to heal

If you had nails
You'd dig them into my brain
But you chewed them all off
Leaving unsightly stumps
So you resort to other games
Touching me tenderly
Then pushing me away
I hope you’re having fun

We were only alive during the night
You were nocturnal
And I wished the day away
So I could fall into your arms
And admire the contrast
Of our hair and skin
Rich brown on milky white
Gold on black

The sun always anaesthetised you
As it peered into your room
Stealing your essence
Leaving you a demotivated husk
But the night gave it back
And I was always grateful
That I could have the real you then
I gave up my day for my nights with you

I’d wait through all the smoking
Watching you try to fill the void
Hunting for a way
To try and straighten out
All your vicious insecurities
Too scared to deal with them sober
But you never needed to be high
For me to love you

I want my nerves to register
Your teeth clamped on my bare skin,
Pressure around my neck
And hands on my hips.
Your touch snaking all over
My fragile body
With locked lips
And your soft hair under my fingers

You infiltrate every memory
Imprinting your half smile
Behind my eyelids
I can still feel your hands
The lines they traced
I wish they'd trace more
Something to sooth
The hole in my chest

Sunlight shines through the hole but
Even as its edges become less raw
It's still punched through my chest
My heart’s missing
I hope you have it
Because I’d like it back at some point
Maybe we can plant it in the hole
And fertilise it with new flesh

I wish I could make more memories
And lie in bed with you for hours
But you won’t let me
You’re tidal, pushing and pulling
Until I disintegrate
In your sea of indecision
I’ll do whatever you want me to
I just wish it didn’t make me so sad

Writing poetry is an exercise
in making myself rise
from ordinary preoccupation
to enter the realm of creation.

When I share it I am revealing
thoughts, doings, and feeling,
so I need not hesitate to share
or bore those who care.

A poem might not be art
but it is a letter from my heart
more than a quick posting
or social media boasting.

So if you do not receive a sealed letter
from me in the mail, a poem is better.
It is a moment of being bold
of sharing a small slice of my soul.

Getting a poem from a poet or friend
is an honor for me and I will attend
and count it a privilege worth prizing
a noble moment of the creator’s rising.

kept to myself on silent hill
where grasshoppers used to frolic

eyes that spy don't realize
like-minds in wooden boxes
read their own would be actions

can't rationalize honesty
different strokes in choices projected
pandering in placating platitudes

never did learn how to turn polite
into untruths earning respect
through coddling flattery

backscratchers are unnecessary
when you don't count numbers
to feel worth a ****

broken beautiful even in cracked truth
taken as is wholeheartedly
but wholeheartedly never fit
into wooden boxes

where people polish egos
and truth reads like what you want to hear
unspoken expectations cultivate disappointment

caring is never pretty when it's real
honesty, with no lies, is hard to look at
in reflections of things one tries to bury

it's the beginning of trust that scrounges
for reasons to doubt
running into cradling arms

far from the unknown feeling of acceptance
where bones are broken beautiful
and scars are proof you won the battle

Liefde is:

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.