this frost pit
I consult a locksmith
who’s actually toxic.
mines can confine
My carcass kind.
I reach into the abyss
and I’m handed pills.
I sense something’s amiss
once they remove my will.
Why can't I get it through my head
That I should probably shoot myself dead?
Or hang myself with a noose instead?
These are the thoughts that I take to bed
"You should get help," they said
I refuse to let my strength be fed
For too long, my happiness has been in the red
Nah, I'll let cyanide take the cred
Poetry has always been one of my creative outlets that has helped me overcome life's tribulations. To clarify, I'm not going to **** myself with cyanide or with any method–for that matter. The first two lines were from a written poem that I discarded a long time ago; I couldn't recall the original verbatim, so I rewrote the rest of the poem.
We were a country that lived near the equator;
I was the land and you were my infinite sky.
We have lived and witnessed our aeons together.
Each moment fleeting, and passing by.
The wind whispers, and the creatures rumble
weeping for me the unfair weather I hold
Only the dry seasons and the rainy seasons come by
and the sky, he's always done what he's always told.
When he cries, he creates floods and storms
or peaceful drizzles and ditz so plain
and when's angered, he takes right up
the moistened land and then grants me pain.
At night, he's terribly beautiful and quiet
the stars twinkle like stickers on my attic
The silent love, and the prolonged memories
and what he holds, goes far beyond semantics.
I sung, "Precious sky, I am your earth
the land you watch with clouds and dew."
And he replied, "Pretty land, you are my purpose
and there's nothing to take me from you."
Are you afraid of heights?
We’ve been climbing higher and higher
And I’m too scared to look down
My hands are slipping
My eyes are glued to the ground below
Are you reaching a hand to me?
I don’t fear the landing anymore
I fear the fall
You keep blocking my path back up
Land of the free,
shining bright like colours of the bees, attracting all the nations to learn about your history legends.
Getting people amused with the beauty you posses.
You give happiness to your citizens making them proud South Africans.
The problem you face get quickly erased,
that shows we have faith on you,
It's true you're the land of the dreams,
they knew that the hope we had on you will never fade away because there are many ways to describe a mysterious land like you,
but there is only one name that simplifies you
Republic of South Africa
Land of the free...
you are sweeter than pure sugar dancing across my lips
you are made of the sweeteners of life
the flowers in the garden of Eden
the foundation of the Earth
from the lands of milk and honey
to the land we stand on
to the air we breathe
to the sun that warms us
made with God's very hands
the heavens must have been proud after creating you,
the closest thing to a human angel on earth
an old poem i recently found
and mankind came together
on that July day
as they watched the historic
landing on the moon's lay
it was an event every corner
of the earth shall recall
the scientific endeavor
did so marvelously enthrall
I took a deep breath
I beheld with my eyes and
laid in a field
I stripped myself
from my man-made skin
into the frigidly
Live in the moment