Are we chicks with curves
who bounce in tight jeans,
curves cutting concrete corners,
chunky gold cracking our necks
and boiling the sun?

No. We clasp hope in our hands,
like rope
it slices our palms
we slurp the blood to redden our lips
which shimmer in the Joburg sun.

This anger -
took our fathers places
where fathers died young,
tied our mothers to places
where mothers grew old..
Copyright ©2016, Dimakatso A. Sedite, adapted in 2017

Paul Jones Jun 24

Having felt something     change me there and then,
I was blown away.     Spores of dandelions.

15:20 - 24/06/17
State of mind: calm; content; nostalgic.

Thoughts: from memories - of the time I saw a painting by Wassily Kandinsky at the Pompidou Centre that reset my course, gave me the direction I now travel. A sort of paradigm shift, in that instance of realisation, I had discovered who I am.

Questions: none.
Sarah May 29

I desperately need today to end
But I fear what tomorrow has in store
I wish more than anything
Everything would stop
Maybe then I could clear my mind
Figure my time-bomb life out
I’m running out of options
Out of space
Out of time
Suspended in terror for what my life may become
Already weighed down by the past
Trapped in this life that I never asked for
What’s the use
If all I’ll ever amount to
Is petrified

7th of May 2010 will be 7 years old,
And so will I be again a 7 years kid!
Neither emotionally nor physically,
But I will be 7 years old spiritually.
I had to learn life again 7 years ago,
Just got spared my life 7 years back!
Though few doctors were pessimistic,
My father was still very optimistic.
He consolidated my mother's hope,
And he negated the pessimist's nope!

He was confident about his only son,
His genes joined my mother's for one!
And I am committed to a long life,
He selected wisely for himself a wife.
His thought about a better gene pool,
A long life offspring I won't ridicule!
But a long life I just do never desire,
If a lonely life I must always persist.
I will survive the days and the nights,
Alone if I must bide my time in tights.

My HP Poem #1527
©Atul Kaushal

Hello weary travelers .
to my living room
for in words
I have found life ...and purpose
in thought provoking
and sometimes
ego stroking words
that can if we're lucky
can ...
paint a thousand pictures
to hang proudly
along the walls
of any open mind.
as long as you like
come and go you please
.  The door has no lock
and there is always
fresh sweet tea for all
in the ice box .
My hope ...
is that my LIVING room
is where some will find
living ROOM inside themselves.
So please ...wipe your feet
Wipe your feet
you go outside.   thanx.

...I have been waiting to post this as I conquered a few hurdles.  I have in the last week gotten wifi out in these woods and a 19.5 inch desktop computer and dragon a bluetooth headset and a printer . ..7 + days later I can now turn it on so soon I will not have to squint and get myself headaches and painful eyes to read this small smartphone and I will be able to sit back and read the screen as if I'm at a drive-in theater but all this is new to me never had it before and I'm sixty years old so bear with me and I will catch up with you all as soon as I can peace

A brother with a cute little lisp,
Or a place for like minded folks,
Relishing the beauty in place,
Tending to needs in time's cusp,
Allowing the easy flow of juices.

On the brink of civility & love,
Fading the differences between.

Fulfilling the bodily needs,
Loaning the best moments,
Easier is HIV contraction,
Self-awareness needed,
Help yourself with the hand.

To the trickier ways of a district,
Redlight district is meant to be strict,
Aloof from normal, painful city,
Desired by many but visited by few,
Envious red shades flowing in & out.

My HP Poem #1457
©Atul Kaushal
clara stewart Jan 12

I miss you.
I assume you must
Miss me too. Do you not?
I can’t help but measure
The miles your
Life has moved away from the beauty
Of our linked lives. By
Leaving, you covered the
Many merry memories, creating distance.
But I know that doesn’t mean nothing to you.
Because you are
Someone who tried to let me loose from
My lonely longing for death.

Golden Shovel poem using the last line of the poem "waist Size" by Beau Taplin.
Tu-turvo Jan 8

Já depois de tanto tempo perdido
Aqui, ainda quero que fique. Às 3h da matina, espero acordado olhando para a luz que queima minha minha alma e me mantem alucinado
Alucinado e condicionado.

Me viciei no celular, como em ti,
um que me mantem desconectado
Desfamiliarizado, com o sentir, que tu já não está aqui
E me afogo afogo
Em nada e perco perco

Se já perdi
mas cheia

Naquela madrugada fui fumar para tentar me encontrar
Choro até chegar em casa e só o celular e o sono afogam meus soluços


para ta na cara que não tem mais eu e você
para ta na cara
Arlene Corwin Oct 2016

(Yet Another) Portrait Of A Friend

I have a friend
Who has a perfect memory.
You might think it’s a perfect gift.
We have to sift through thoughts –
That is, you, I – but he,
He pictures everything,
Recalls it all: dates, times, the history
Complete.  What could be wrong
With knowing all the lyrics to each song
You hear?  
Draw near, I’ll tell you:

He retains the good and bad.
He’s filtered nothing. Think if you should
Shoulder all the woes of life?
The sad, the mad, the wars, the strife?
Besides the perfect recall,
He sees everything in black and white:
It’s either awe-inspiring or shit.
I’d guess it’s vexing
To remember each and every second
And, on top of which, to have opinions strong,
Be never wrong: one of his ‘strong’ opinions .
Plus, he takes offense, pretends indifference.
Yet, we’re friends.
I always yield, always bend.
You see, I am indifferent
And I’m charmed.

(Yet Another) Portrait Of A Friend 10.19.2016
Love Relationships II; Special People, Special Occasions; Small Stories Book;
Arlene Corwin

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