Every day you play with the light of the universe.
Subtle visitor, you arrive in the flower and the water,
You are more than this white head that I hold tightly
as a bunch of flowers, every day, between my hands.
You are like nobody since I love you.
Let me spread you out among yellow garlands.
Who writes your name in letters of smoke among the stars of the south?
Oh let me remember you as you were before you existed.
Suddenly the wind howls and bangs at my shut window.
The sky is a net crammed with shadowy fish.
Here all the winds let go sooner or later, all of them.
The rain takes off her clothes.
The birds go by, fleeing.
The wind. The wind.
I alone can contend against the power of men.
The storm whirls dark leaves
and turns loose all the boats that were moored last night to the sky.
You are here. Oh, you do not run away.
You will answer me to the last cry.
Curl round me as though you were frightened.
Even so, a strange shadow once ran through your eyes.
Now, now too, little one, you bring me honeysuckle,
and even your breasts smell of it.
While the sad wind goes slaughtering butterflies
I love you, and my happiness bites the plum of your mouth.
How you must have suffered getting accustomed to me,
my savage, solitary soul, my name that sends them all running.
So many times we have seen the morning star burn, kissing our eyes,
and over our heads the grey light unwinds in turning fans.
My words rained over you, stroking you.
A long time I have loved the sunned mother-of-pearl of your body.
Until I even believe that you own the universe.
I will bring you happy flowers from the mountains, bluebells, dark hazels, and rustic baskets of kisses.
I want to do with you what spring does with the cherry trees.
here's how it happens
the morning after
you reach into the drawer
where the your t-shirts live
to find it austere
you'll shrug because
you're still drunk
& you can't remember
when last it was
that you had something wet
or how long it's been
since you made the floorboards blush
or why the carpet is upset
who wouldn't be
the contents to the upended ashtray
strewn around the apartment
resemble the aftermath
of the smallest war
to ever take place in norfolk
some midnight thief
must've made off with the lighter
because it isn't in
any of your favorite spots
maybe you chucked it
along with a hundred other things
that make noise when they land
in the neighbors yard
you won't remember putting
the refrigerator's belongings
in the bathtub
or scrawling a buzzard
on the bedroom door
but then again who would
you'll pretend it's spring again
before putting on your winter coat
to go out front with a cigarette
in your mouth
you'll hope for a passing stranger
to bum a light from
or drag yourself to the corner
with couch cushion change
to buy a new lighter
and on your way
you won't bother looking back
this is just another day
on eggshells for no reason
choking on birthday candles
on your way home
you step over beer cans
the kind you fell in love with
and wonder who
had the last laugh last night
or if anyone said a word at all
it might've been another
moment of clarity
it might have been some idiot savant
any adjective that feels like home
anything that keeps you thirsty
it is funny, you will be dead some day.
By you the mouth hair eyes,and i mean
the unique and nervously obscene
need;it’s funny. They will all be dead
knead of lustfulhunched deeplytoplay
lips and stare the gross fuzzy-pash
—dead—and the dark gold delicately smash….
grass,and the stars,of my shoulder in stead.
It is a funny,thing. And you will be
and i and all the days and nights that matter
knocked by sun moon jabbed jerked with ecstasy
….tremble (not knowing how much better
than me will you like the rain’s face and
the rich improbable hands of the Wind)
One day my skin will be wrinkled
my teeth will fall out
my memories will fade
and one day, my heart will stop
my body will rot
and I'll just be another person time forgot.
But while I continue to age
I'll make friends
I'll have children
I'll leave a mark on this world
so although I have gone
part of me will continue to live on
Like a thousand nights before I'll sit here
with music in my ears.
Thinking of you, what could have been...
What should have been?
No, if it should've than it would've but it wasn't, so fuck it.
But I can pretend.
I can imagine,
I can dream.
My thoughts drift away and suddenly I'm someone else
in a land far away, living a different life.
Slowly events unfold of stories untold
and I'm lost living a life inside.
Behind my eyes I've lived hundreds of lives
with no one to judge me but myself.
Yet you're here to make another appearance.
No matter how far I run,
I just can't get away.
So, here we are again.
I hate white people
who stop me from stealing their stuff
and bring in the po po
who put me in hand cuff.
Now I'm in jail
cannot post bail
eating out of a metal bowl
while being fucked in my bunghole.
Then it occurred to me
what I am supposed to be
so I became a basketball player
and changed my name to Lebron James.
Chris Bosh wants to be more than homies
ever since I was drunk and he groped me
he wanted my dick
i think he was sick.
Spoelstra is an ass
I fuckin hate him.
he needs to die
before I cram a basketball in his wife.
Guess what day it is
That's right! It's Sunday!
That fun day of the week
That's very very unique
I can finally let my lustful fantasies loose
Basically today I can be a freak.
So let's down to the nitty gritty
What shall I lick first? Lips or T-ties?
Shall I kiss you gently? Teasing you all the while?
Or shall we jump to the chase
And we make love while you're wetter than the Nile?
What position first? Missionary or doggy style?
Or maybe something crazy
We haven't done this in awhile
Or maybe we can take notes
From a book called the Kama Sutra
Believe me, there's a lot of ways I wanna do ya
So many of us sit, think and still
But have we ever gave ourselves the chance to ask?
We just rejoice and find oursleves
floating on cloud nine because
"it is just another public holiday"
So many of us have cherished this day,
as a day of drinking, parting
and being in the family way.
Which "Us" am i refering to?
Well it is the youth of South Africa,
That can only sing "Freedom is coming tomorrow" very well
without knowing the significance
of that freedom
and what it took for this freedom
well let me take you back to the
hands of time.
In June 16, 1976
the mongoloid youth of South Africa
marched down the streets of Soweto for this freedom we have today.
and the cries of faces without races
filled the streets of Soweto.
Parents feared for the lives of their children,
but who knew that adolescents
could be so brave?
They stood together in unity,
the same unity we lack today.
Fought for what was right and that came with their African roots,
which we nolonger honour today,
they fought against the usage af
Afrikaans as the main language of communication at schools.
And look where it left us today.
We have the Right to choice
and the Freedom of association.
And not forgeting that,
they left us with the courage to say "WE ARE PROUDLY SOUTH AFRICANS"
Its a new day
She wakes from the nights sleepy darkness
Knowing the body under the covers doesn't fit her
But as she drifts in and out of the mornings gentle hold
Her dreams and mind forget the body under the covers
And she finds herself dancing in a waterfall
Swimming like a mermaid she reaches the edge of the pool
Shaking her beautiful long curls, and dressing
In her silks and flowing lace.
She smells the forest through a female nose
All the beautiful woods and flowers come alive within
Assuming the demeanor of a Princess
Walking the paths, with dust that sparkles
Settling on the ground behind her
But the dreams end suddenly, as the scent of coffee
Fills the room, and the sounds of cars passing outside
Bring her back, back into the here and now
The covers pull off, and the trousers come on, the shirt and boots that the day requires.
But as she walks out the door, to spend the day trying to be a man in a mans world, she gently smiles, knowing that her magical forest awaits its Princess, and soon she will return
by Lj Mark 2015
I counted all of
my friends on
a single hand.
The same hand
to grab when I was
reaching out from
And it made me
realize that people come
as well as they go.
Even in life (and death)
Day 1: I want to tear my skin off. My heart is beating so fast i can barley breathe. I feel so filthy.
Day 2: I can't believe this. I don't want to be here. Why did this happen? Why did I let this happen?
Day 5: I guess I drank too much and my friends were to drunk to stop me.
Day 10: I can't face my friends, I can't live my life.
Week 3: No one knows. He hasn't said a word.
Week 6: It happened again, I was sleeping and he did it again. Why did I stay the night? Why didn't I go straight home?
Week 7: He left and kissed me goodbye. I don't know how to feel.
Week 10: My life's out of control, I can't believe whats happening.
Month 5: My boyfriend knows. But not all details. Just thinking about it, makes me want to take a shower.
Month 8: I finally came clean to my friends. They're appalled. They hate him now. I still feel filthy. I can't get his smell off my body still.
Month 11: The anniversary is soon. What am I going to do?
Year 1: I haven't spoken to him in months. I haven't thought about it in days. I still feel as if hes on top of me, why can't I wash him away?
Its an uphill battle with myself and others. Some days I can't get out of bed or even feel like breathing.
But I try not to let him get to me. Because if he sees my weakness from what hes done,