2 | 31 Poems for August 2016

A poem written by my heart so every single word you hear is a pulse.
I’m a literary writer living inside the mind of a spoken-word poet.
I still write beautiful words; you can ask Luyanda – even she knows it.
Things change, circles grow smaller, conversations get shorter and eventually hearts grow distant.
But I’m glad that Luyanda, Faith and I still manage to talk every now and then.
It’s sad to see that you’re not around, it’s like you just disappeared into thin air.
Still hoping that you’d call or text but you’ve probably lost my numbers by now.
If you’re willing to talk to me, I promise to listen like I always do.
You can count on me like an abacus, sounds cliché but you know it’s true.
Even if things don’t always go my way, I just hope that everything will be okay.
I’m learning to embrace a metamorphosis I was previously oblivious to.
It’s still no mystery why my aura will always long for the company of yours.
I’m a literary writer living inside the mind of a spoken-word poet.
I still write beautiful words; you can ask William – even he knows it.
Time is wasted so I patiently wait for the clock to get sober eventually.
Things change but I’m glad that William, Terrence and I still manage to talk every now and then.
It’s sad to see that you’re not around, it’s like you just disappeared into thin air.
Still hoping that you’d call or text but you’ve probably lost all touch with most people by now.

Beautiful face on a canvas screen,
What does it mean when everyone adores you?
To me a mystery to an unknown,
Something to learn and know.
But I am simply a small spot amongst your pinned wall,
In this the mystery pushes on after all.
So what say you storyteller with words to say?
What folds of life wrap around your page?
I guess time will tell of the mystery at hand,
Of an author on a journey in a far away land.

hark near!
speak knives upon ears...
make them plea,
and beg upon swollen knees.

for we are truly so,
the ones in which we sow
coagulated clots into a beaded necklace,
blood berries--blood berries
of an aching vocabulary's.

waiting.
begging.
pleading for one swipe.
aching for someone to hurt,
and hope they fully bleed at night.

we merely want to help,
aide the eulogies and add a scissor kiss,
to the concoction of labor,
and amalgamation of agony,
in order to spice,
and to cease.

nothing but a sweet disease
for the white blood cells,
and wish you deep luck,
on a tall grass journey.

we simply wish for ****
after ****,
and smile when you still go up running,
blood stained grin after blood stained grin,
and spitting saucers of cut lips upon your hurt cheeks.

spit teacups
and an half full glass
have nothing to do with a child
or years of class.

you may think we're nothing but a nuance,
and don't mean anything but to watch you cook your own brain,
but we are simply here,
to help you on the chair,
and tighten your own noose.

save the ache of being petty,
and moans of disgrace,
we're here to swallow your pity,
and make you drink your own ****.

simply--surely--simply and surely so,
but we don't mean anything but to guide you to the ditch,
with slices of paper from rusted scissors,
and help you die with your pitch.

you're one of those, are you not? a ******* and nothing more?
you'd best be reminded,
that what is a song,
without its poem?

you have nothing to fear but your own tongue,
and your own blood,
and your own tears,
and make you think you're nothing but clod.

but you'd best be sweating salver if you really are what you say you are.

a place with no shelter?

no story to show?

no roof and no halter?

no place to know?

for the earth mirrors the heavens
and you place what lays between.

you are truly pathetic--but you scribble that.
you are truly meaningless--but you bleed that.
you are truly wordless--but you speak them.

and no one--not even us--can tell you what you really are.

and if you really are what you say you are--then show us.

but don't prove it.

remember, you have a noose that is tight.

all you need is a chair to kick over...

and paper--and pencil--and keyboard--and mind.

now, go ahead and tell me what you are...

the naive scholar for all mankind.

I woke up alone,
In that King Sized bed,
Panicked that you had gone.
And then I realized
You had been gone
For a long time.

So many times in life
Have my eyes deceived
My heart has coerced me the wrong way
Down paths unyielding of self-deprecation
In eyes of pressured sight
concluding the colours of beauty
To be the ones I am told;
Not the ones I actually gape upon
Foreign film now dubbed in unpleasing vocal falsities
No longer subtitled
As music suddenly gleeful overtakes folky routes, now vanish

Where did I go to hide
Suspended space and time, for how long, I know not
Just waiting for someone to say
I will save you

And there you rose
To remind me that olive grey is my favourite
That the gravelly thump of blues can make me shine
That loneliness is never loneliness
When within your heart I stay

On my sweet
How we watch this world through Paris eyes
Two minds wrapped in one another
I never sleep without you
For even in loss you appear in dream.
Wonderful points in which we change
Change in self-awareness
Confidence in portraits we paint each other
Hold me in your thoughts
For with you I cling to love

I've been trying to write stories
then my mind wanders into fantasies
I could not find a perfect subject
so I looked everywhere for an object

But still..

Another writer's block
tik tok tik tok said the clock
write a line, write a line
and find a rhyme, find a rhyme
Oh! I found a dime, I found a dime!
Lets buy some wine!

tik tok tik tok said the clock

Delete the first two verses
Because it was all nonsense
Please give me a concept!
In return I will try to write you a sonnet
Said, I WILL TRY to write you a sonnet

tik tok tik tok said the clock

I am running out of time
I am running out of lines
Sorry for the rumbling
I really am struggling
Couldn't find a perfect subject
So my papers here are wrecked