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I saw my dad order one
Then the next
Then the next
Until it became five beers
His words started to slur
His voice was alarmingly loud
His confidence was breaming
And deep secrets revealed
This never use to worry me
After him and my mom divorced
I knew there was no one to drive him home.
Toast šŸ»Not for people under the age of 18/21. Be responsible!
After high tide is low tide
After summerā€™s sun thereā€™s winterā€™s snow
After being in love, especially with the fantasy,
Thereā€™s reality waiting for you to hate it.
Time that is the enemy of purpose,
Ā Ā Ā Ā Breathing birthing nothing but burden of ageing,
Wasting the time, in shortage, which one regrets
Ā Ā when wrinkled and disabled,
Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Waiting for Grim to release from illness.
Alas, if sleep is the cousin of death,
Ā Ā This is dying and seeing death coming.
Life is short and making every single an eventful, admirable movie. Never experiencing a dull moment. Merely is impossible. If you canā€™t prove me wrong.
Innocence clothes me
The sin strips me
And I allow it
So my friends respect me.
The pressure to have *** in this generationā€¦
Let me tattoo you with every beautiful word
in every language
so you can permanently see how beautiful you are.
Stop believing u are beautiful for a day but know that you are beautiful everyday.
Delicate feather very light.
You were swept,
By the tall waves.
A dove settles,
Yes, I stayed with you.
This togetherness,
The love,
Too heavy,
As we sink into the Indian Ocean.
Drowning but too afraid
to leave one another,
I thought.
Until you make me slip.
You raise above the sea, safe
And you leave me to drown.
I shouldnā€™t of allowed into my heart and let you die alone.
Standing outside in the winter freezing breeze
Multi layered
But Iā€™ll be cold
Inwards and outs

Lay in the big fridge, last fridge ever
Naked
And Iā€™ll not feel a thing
Just a random thoughtā€¦
God makes beautiful women
Then the devil uses them
At the beginning of time
they saw him as a slave
Now, itā€™s the police prime
to shoot him into the grave
Peers scared heā€™ll steal their toys
Teachers still stereotype that his a black boy
Expel him giving his future to the gangs
Either jail or stuck between devilā€™s fangs
Scrabbling through the trauma
Living through hates non-understandable
Unaware, untrained heā€™ll be a black man
Until then, either he stays in a comma
ā€˜Cause I donā€™t know how the black boy can survive.
Honestly I donā€™t know what you guys think about this one. Hard writing about things political, societal shortfalls, economics. Things Iā€™m passionate about. Many this is the first of many poems telling stories that arenā€™t told.
I look at the painting,
The green forestry,
Pale blue sky,
Labourers in red clothes,
Wearing white.
Is this right?
Maybe, Iā€™m in black, benefiting,
Upholding a treasury,
One had to dieā€¦
They graciously do, keeping the oaths,
That the old brown book writes.
It says that, right?
Would I know when Iā€™m part of the problem?
Cut thatā€™s all
Cry but no call
Speeding metal
An attempt, suicidal

Guns and roses
Wood and daisies
Backroom, a family disgrace
Spirits looking down in shame
Mother has no giver for an embrace
Generation will reluctantly carry the name
Ready my therapist, ready the tissues
Suicidal jargon and self harm, tenth issue
My tears, the alien plants to my fragile
sanctuary, ******* all the water and smiles,
Are changing to healthy oak trees,
Odd, in Blue Season, trees shrink to weeds,
The rain queen has become a frivolous giver,
And I remember how the cactus use to quiver
because Blue Season meant the Sunā€™s burning rays,
Well, the cactus isnā€™t **** anymore! Back to wearing his spiky clothes always.
Industrial air to countryside,
My fauna and flora havenā€™t died,
Actually they have multiplied,
The poachers, the self harm, hasnā€™t ambushed,
No, no! They have been seen about
But theyā€™re less and success is a doubt.

Momentary depression, the lethal poison to
my sanctuary, wreckage seems to be subdued.
Thereā€™s still challenges in my sanctuary. However, mostly from death being the only way to super sad just need some chocolate, family, friends, a good book vibes, I feel proud.
You should of known
That I could do more with my breath
   than sing Funeral hymns
I could of told you a joke
Give you chats lasting throughout the night
Comfort you when you needed
      Someone the most
I could of shown all things before you took
     That last burdened breath.
  The grim, wooden human box
Tells me you have taken all your breaths
  I conclude, Iā€™ll sing this Funeral hymn
        Like itā€™s the last breath Iā€™ll ever take.
I see you; wonder the crowds
with your joking jeers of me.
Then you replay the jeers more
annoying than the radio with songs.

You see I; alone in my cold coffin.
****, what a funny day!
When your jokes stop playing.
Keep telling me that Iā€™m your oxygen,
While you donā€™t believe Iā€™m a cancer,
I sometimes wish I didnā€™t know you,
So you can sip on someoneā€™s sweet oxygen,
And I remain a cancer.

Keep consoling me that Iā€™m a good cancer,
A cancer that cures cancer,
I tell you that you are my oxygen,
But I reject inhaling you like a lung cancer,
Or deny your existence like an odd brain cancer.

Keep trying me, over and over, but youā€™ll tire,
And accept that youā€™re sweet oxygen,
And Iā€™m a deadly cancer,
The process of acceptance is painful for us both,
Ironically, like a cancer.
In the shade of my freshly grown *******
the protection from the rays of the camera flash
doesn't decrease the heat, it intensifies it, at best
And the flood of sweat drowns my skin in a flash

The contours of my ***** create a valley
A bigger valley he wants as he demands I stretch
my ****. They don't after I repeatedly rally
them. ā€œI can't!ā€ He slaps me. My face etch.

More pictures, he wants, of me playing
with my *******. My ******, the tiny rubbery
pips sieve thought my small fingers, surveying
my hand. As the man captures this awkward discovery.

Packs the camera and gives the money, my fee
Then he grabs and hisses to me to tell nobody
Ainā€™t a hard, ***** brown shell
(Not a veneer covering that Iā€™m lost)
Ainā€™t any edible white liquor inside me
(My black roots stops me from being uprooted)
Ainā€™t just colour for an outer layer
(The proudness that comes with being a god)
Ainā€™t no coconut, Iā€™m being me
(Without using your stupid stereotype to judge my blackness by)
While white people make me feel insignificant then some black people make me feel no black enough.

Where the black love brothers and sisters?
I feel alone and hated by all
Cause Britain is the one
with all our wealth.
We have
common colonised conundrums.
And youā€™ll say that it happened a long time ago. My response: Sorry, What The...
I should send clichƩs or lovely silly texts,
And what would Her respond withhold,
A laughing emoji and painful nothing next,
Wow! It gotta be the clichƩ (to over told),
Or Her didnā€™t notice the most unsexy flirt,
So hard having the digits of your crush.

Hustle one or two hands to do a phone call,
Iā€™ll do anything, way before got Her notice,
Whatever, calls are unpredictable,
Hint Iā€™m cute, funny, depressing or banal,
Hope She isnā€™t busy, sleepy, just not right now,
But not answering and I crying until heaven come down,
So hard having the digits of your crush.

Settle, like pics, sending love arrows through socials,
But seem like a creep; having nothing on my profile,
If weā€™re dating, my page overload with pics of Her,
Go old school, sorry, meant Facebook but itā€™s lame,

After I did everything then She says,
ā€œI just donā€™t like you.ā€
ā€œMom! Iā€™m always on my phone
ā€˜cause Iā€™m waiting for a textā€
But she didnā€™t respond to the text
That I love her.
Remember their works of art,
Yes, then how many of the Hello Poetry artists
Liked, favorite, reposted,
Some very nice poets supported with suns,
I read their last poem in many years,
And I wonder...
What happened after their last poem?
Did they stop publishing publicly?
Completely stop writing poetry?
And why so...
They became too ill to continue?
Did they die?
Accident, sickness or suicide?
When theyā€™re writing was it a call for help!?

There are many unanswered questions
However Iā€™m going to keep writing
Until I became a dead poet.
Seeing shadows of love
As the love sacrilege endures

Until death do us part-
The blaspheme!

Not sadden but an empty heart
Seeing love on itā€™s deathbed.
Love, rage rage against the dying light...
Iā€™m Libra
The constellation scream you and I
Unless the universe tells lies
Iā€™ll like to get to know you
As a friend or special friend, through
Youā€™re zenith and nadir times

We could be star crossed lovers
We could of been star crossed lovers if the universe didnā€™t take u away before we could fall in love.
Dear peers
Thanks for the flowers
Although dying men canā€™t
be pleasantly burdened by a besiege of bouquets
Dying men are focused
on every agonising breathe
Doesnā€™t matter how heavenly it is
But dear peers
Thanks for the flowers
You send your best wishes when Iā€™m too far in.
Being birthed and brought up by the dumps, they
joined a higher force gang,

They donā€™t perform miracles
while they ride the highness or drunken stupors

(Stereotyped for our residents)

Yet they drown us in oceans of love
Listen, fully with two ears, tidal waves of pains
Lay their hands, for all, and not the ā€œbetter ofā€ among us

And as my mind reflects and resolutes

They didnā€™t change the dumps, the shrine of substances and where drunks worship the bottle,
The dumps is the dumps but itā€™s people,
even though few, move a inch closer to brighter.

ā€˜Cause they chose differently, they delivered difference to the dumps.
All roads came to a meeting,
Everybody even the blind can see,
Even if life is pathetic, there is an eden.
For even if itā€™s short or lengthy
But for the mere fact thereā€™s an Eden-
Makes life worth it.
I donā€™t need to care
How do you feel
So if youā€™re mad and ****
Doesnā€™t affect me
Sort yourself
Because you need to sort me
You better do it good
Today itā€™s you
And tomorrow someone else
To me youā€™re a toy; Iā€™m a rich kid
Play, then throw you out
You yell, ā€œ *******!ā€
Doesnā€™t matter, I got choices
Donā€™t need to care
Cry a little
See my smile shine
Devilish but so carefree
Like an emotional brat.
Honestly i do feel like a burden with my depression and panic attacks. But Iā€™m abusing the love people have for me.
As the only sun
The world must run
Circles around me
As the hidden victim
As the blatant victor
I deserve all cherishes, a god,
I deserve a paddle stole, a crown,
Everything at itā€™s utter best
And more love than the average rest
For compensation for unique pains
Little-old me has to religiously face
So everyone
Bow down your heads and get on your knees
Understand, you need to worship me.
Sometimes i think Iā€™m so entitled then later on Iā€™m reminded that I honestly Iā€™m no god that life has to always content.
My envious eye breaks my heart
When Romeo takes Julietā€™s hand
in his, studies her eyes like the stars,
Breathes her scent, rich and sweet Jasmine sings
Slowly settles his lips on her
Kisses that Juliet under the moon's watchful eye
While my envious eye breaks my heart
My eyes start to sweat from the hard labor of jealousy
Will ever love, will I ever feel joy, will I ever have what Romeo has?

Romeoā€™s envious eye breaks his heart
When I hold the delicate flower in my palm
Observing how live courses thought Mother Nature
Breathing in the fresh morning dew
Then gently place my ***** on the grass
Drinking in the warm eye of heaven
While Romeoā€™s envious eye breaks his heart
For he will never get to live again, to love again
At least for Romeo, he can coldly caress Julietā€™s corpse.
Jealous of his love, jealous of my life
The sun will rise everyday,
Then will decent at sunset everyday,
The air will fill and empty your lungs
Every second and every minute everyday,
Hundreds of people die everyday,
But thereā€™s thousands of births everyday,
Your history grows with every passing day,
And your future grows smaller everyday,
You must open your gift, the present, everyday
Even if itā€™s unpleasant or the best thing ever,
You must accept this gift everyday
And everyday and everyday and everyday,

Then comes that one day,
You see the sunrise and the sunset
And feel the air pass through your lungs
On that day you can touch the happy
Ambience of new live, the last time, and hear
The stories of your yesterday and listen
To the hopes for an innocent infantā€™s life,
On that day your hopes are pipe dreams
Cause today thereā€™s no more tomorrow
Sadly, you join the fact of everyday
Then when you enter the door of sorrow
Inside the house the beds are cold coffins
And your everyday become yesterday.
Iā€™ll be exampling what happen
Iā€™ll tell until I figure out when
Or understand the between of here and where
Or until I know what youā€™re actually asking?
Iā€™ll be exampling what happen
Until I remember what happen, then.
Itā€™s not failure if I didnā€™t do,
Nor is it an achievement,
Iā€™m chez soul-crushing drown,
And a self loathing high,
Due its not a F but N/A,
Or cut my nose to spite my face,
So never lived,
However, have I ever died?

Cried as lovers took your hand,
Laughed when they broke your heart,
I care, maybe will forever do,
How could I believe Iā€™m the one,
For I canā€™t get the asking done,
Time reminds me this isnā€™t a movie,
Missed chances only return in another cat,
Allergies but loneliness is vaccination,
Self inflicted entropy.

Too querulous in my self caused quagmire,
Talk Iā€™m the most unfortunate man
To set a foot on Mother Earth,
Its me, myself and I feeling hells flames
already,
Social phobia and agoraphobia?
No, phobia of feeling real, healthy love.

Not trying is also attempting suicide,
Its a F even if it was never written,
A Zenithā€™s sacrilege to act like Nadir.

Today, the turnaround time is here!
Iā€™m running, swimming,
cycling or flying back,
My love is more sinewy,
than my post-mortem,
ā€˜Cause if failure has to transfigure me,
Then rejection be my
Coup de grace making chef-dā€™oeuvre.
Maybe I get the boy...
Enkindle the oil within u
The shine sparks of curiosity within u
Allow my mischievous mind within u
Deny all insecurities within u
Slowly flow with the rhythm within u
Give in to the cravings within u
Open up and let me go within u
Letā€™s wrestle naked me and you
The clockā€™s short arm
is two lines over midnight,
And the internet is a river
of nocturnal creatures,
My fishing rod is as plastic as
my phony profile pictureā€™s nose,
A scripted act of deep affection
a tasty trapping virtual bait,
Singing mermaid ringing you in
Thereā€™s nowhere else to swim.

Successful the catfish-lady catching a fish-man.
I wonder if there any catfishes on HP using poetry to draw us in?
To drop the call
Forgot
Iā€™m still there
On the other side of the line
Forgot
Iā€™m still here
And I love you
Forgot
Why did u forget?
To keep the safety on
Or was it intentional
U didnā€™t drop the call but the gunshots drops u six feet under. Iā€™m alone on the line
After the sugar-high
Maturity overcomes childish whims
Staying somewhere in nowhere
Is regret-bound, itā€™s time to quit the foolishness
To exit the game
The fun is over.
A mournful wail
But brain makes her a whisper
Your heart, somewhere, feels a distance
As they khuluma
And you canā€™t
Yet they praat
And you caught a bietjie
Not like your people and not accept by white people.
Granny pointed to the lesbian couple.
Saying the girl who wore the suit is the man,
The other wore a wedding dress is the woman.
I was truly offended!
Until I ask Granny reasons,
I understood her intention wasnā€™t to harm.
She understands LGBTQ through her norms
and heterosexual eyes.
What could of happened?
If she had tolerance for LGBTQ but we didnā€™t have tolerance towards Granny.

Viral video of white Granny saying very homophobia statements avoided šŸ˜…
How we to became a united community if we prejudices to the older generation that they believe is wrong or a stereotype itself. We need to hear them out and show tolerance and love like the same way we except from them. Tolerance works both ways.
You are died.
But I feel nothing.

Recently, I havenā€™t felt something,
If it were a ******, Iā€™ll be suspect,
Maybe this isnā€™t the grieving expected.
I feel the sun is brighter than before,
Grief empty and happiness adored.

Sickness commanding over, Iā€™d cried credibility
When death guttered you down in the ground.
All my grieving was fully paid and done.
For my late grand-aunt. At age 93 she still had a lot life and joy within her.
Brought to my knees, tears down my cheeks.
That is me, defeated. My heart is what I seek.
Guider help me with my quest!
Maybe on the way weā€™ll see naĆÆve hope, waited
and made aware of disappointmentā€™s arrival, now operating
with pessimism and bias. Will we have to sympathise
Denial with its walking stick and sunglasses of great size?
Or make certain of no sudden movement as he observes with vigilance and readiness.
Guider what happened to the parks and the heaviness
of playing innocent souls ignorant, unscathed?
Are they now in office parks playing tug with whims and being paid.
And Guider, after all this, will my heart still be
loving, kind, fierce, joyful and warm?
Or will the fatherā€™s abandonment force my heart to reformā€¦
Avoiding problem
Destructive stress therapy
A cheap ā€œremedyā€
But yeah itā€™s the easiest thing to do. Especially right nowā€¦
To Rashid Khan and Qais Ahmed

During dread and death,
You use leather and willow,
To show Afghanā€™s strength.
Two of my favourite cricketers, Rashad Khan and Qais Ahmed, are examples of strength and character. Even though the Taliban of taken over Afghanistan šŸ‡¦šŸ‡«, we can still use sports to help achieve peace.
BLACK SCHOOL SHOES

shiny or with dirt
black school shoes on that young corpse
Travels in hoarse
School was her happy. By her happy place thatā€™s where the bullets screamed. Hopefully sheā€™ll carry good memories of her happy place to heaven
I would of handed you a rose
With beauty catching all eyes,
Energy that gives the term energy new meaning
Yet you have given the effigy
Of the former bright glow of your heart
First preference
And my rose would be better purpose
For someone else

A poem to myself
How i let the negative idea conquer the my true self and how i let that deny me from great things.
To the girl I always think about
To the girl who makes me laugh
To the girl that I wanna kiss
Me and you would me be perfect
Just

If we werenā€™t friends.
All beautiful things
canā€™t compete with your beauty
Wearing school uniform
when youā€™re suppose to be dripping in pearls
guarded by red roses
Priceless, all the money in
the world isnā€™t enough
Bad foresight and your fairness
makes me blind to
everything except you
Gentle eyes, the door to the universe
The door to tranquil rivers of joy
The door to air, water and life itself
I talked to God asking if
Heaven is missing an angel.
P.S youā€™re beautiful
Her father wants his cows
He said I canā€™t come inside
I canā€™t loiter by the gate
I canā€™t see my love
Her father wants his cows
Cows of great size
Cows the acres of the veld to the lake
Then I can see my love

Her father wants his cows
Then i told him i am a poet
And little did i know it
From his dreams he was aroused
He changed me a dead dove
And now i can see my love

Maybe i should of told him
Iā€™m a poet at dayā€™s dim
And a doctor with whims
Can you lie about your profession during lobola negotiations?
She needs a hare to fill the missing blocks
She needs a guide to help avoid the flock
A lover a reminder thatā€™s sheā€™s never alone
A comedian to get a laughterā€™s loan
A sick Santa to not gift tears on missed birthdays
A lullaby to swift sleepily from yesterday
She needs a hare to brush as mom rides the highs
A hairy being when no human beings is neigh

A fat hare eating rabbit food like her skinny dad
A big cheeks hare like his cheeks when mad
A friend for the bereaved until his death clarify
She needs a hare to stop her from asking why.
I wish i had a hare to comfort me when my dad left and never came back. Honestly it feels like his dead because i will never see Iā€™m again
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