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'n lewe in konstruksie...
dis tog die mees logiese manier om dit te beskryf...
ons bou en bou en bou,
en toets dan die produk.

Maar aan die einde, as ons klaar gebou het...
wat is dan daarvan te kom.
                        'n Lee huis...
                                       'n stil pad...

en wat het ons van onself geleer?

En wat leer ons van die wereld en mense om ons
             , vasgevang in die stryd teen tyd...

niks nie.

Ons het net voor onself uitgekyk
                   na die vaal stene
                                   en die slukkerige sement.

Watter vreugde het dit vir ons gebring.

Niks nie.

Nee,
         ek weier.

Ons is tog hier geplaas met vrye wil.

En iewers langs die pad,
                                          raak almal die pad duister...
en word dan deur die samelewing verdoem.

Die mensdom besluit dan wat van hulle sal word...
In daardie oomblikke is God meer vergete
deur die skares wat saamdrom op die rand van die pad...
                                                                ­                                      die wat lag en vinger wys...
                                                                ­                                                      die wat klippe gooi,
                                                         as deur die wat die prentjie aanskou.

Soms kort ons 'n perspektief van uit die donker,
                          om die lig rerig te verstaan...

Soms moet ons eers die genadelose aanraking van die koue voel,
                           voordat ons die sagte streel van die son oor ons gesigte kan waardeur.

Daar le wysheid in die donker,
                                      want dit is in die donker waar jy aleen is,

                         met niemand om in jou oor te fluister wat reg of verkeerd is nie.

                                                                ­                                                      Net die wind om jou siel te sus,
                                                                ­                                               die stilte om jou uit te rus...

                                                 en niemand wat jou god kan wees
                                       of sy woorde
                                                          ­      en planne
                                                                ­                   vir jou kan uitmessel nie.

Die pad het die gevaar geraak.

Dis koud en korrupt.
                                     En ons is dankbaar,
         dat ons die kans gekry het om dit te sien,
terwyl ons stadig verswelg word deur die skadu's
                                                                ­                                             en wegsmelt in die donker...

want nou weet ons dat ons pyn maar net 'n gedeelte van die werklike hartseer was...

                                                               ­ ons is die gelukkiges...

en hulle loop op die pad na verdoemtenis
Derick Van Dusen Oct 2010
yesterday i wandered away from myself
i found myself looking back at what i thought was me
but the someone looking through the mirror didnt see

the someone not seen didnt know i was looking and felt left out
the left-out one looked around and seen all that had been looked in on and stepped out of the mirror to go back from then on

then on went the symphony of the seeing and the seen all that is there to be seen is there right in front of what i thought was me
on with all the looking and seeing back at me

yesterday i wandered away from me to see the other mees that visit every once in a while and i find i like all the mees i see even if they cant see me

i broke the me seeing mirror i was getting bored with it i started to see the me that i didnt want to see the twisted feeble dying old me
that scares me the feebleness the frailty of it all

i put the pieces of my me seeing mirror in a dresser drawer
so i could put them back together again when i am that feeble old me so that hopefully ill see the me i want to see again.

i know that me is still there and that me sees me now looking at it wondering the same thing as i is that the me i used to see when i saw the feeble me old dying me that me scares me.

so the me i see broke the me seeing mirror cause he was scared of me...
The first time I
Didn't saw but
Sawn anyway
A tree in repose
Temporary Re-
Spite
For trees
Exist before seeds
Seedle, grow from little
Baby saplings into
What most all granted
Taken for as just
Leafy woody back-
Ground and dead,
Un-zombie-like, yet
Providing stillness
As they slowly give up
Everything to Mother
Earthly ground, un-
Rooted but, to some,
(Like Mees)
Snaky tendrils no longer
Ground under, under...
Dead trees are still
Lively alive, noticable
When you sit on them,
Trip over them, bust your
Toe through balsa-
Crumbles full of
Worms n such

Human hearts do not half
Rings of growth,
Visible only when
Down cutted is their
Wet, firery, drought
Life seen as ringing
Circles consecrated
From an almost
Invisible heart

Only if I fall
Down, repos
-itioned and perhaps
By magic Trees
Placed switches on
Us mortals, roots
for lumbering,
Limbs in actuality,
Fingers branching
Girthy trunks
Hair musical at the
Top of their windy
Heads;
Down, fallen
Post-human, would they
Read the hidden rings
In my heart?
Ken Pepiton Apr 2020
A day's work, for a day's wage. That's the motto,

here we do the work, a word's actual worth,

we hold a meaning, which, makes common sense,
once we've tamed the main
stream of ideas for processing,
setting course bounds,
grammar and words of aim or blame or action,
or the opposite of all of those,

we speak the same tongue and access the same data set
for definitions and wiki-matter,

we, like me, my self, I the sub, me the ob, we, the both,
and you, dear reader,
were you to agree,

we is a being greater than the sum of our two mees and iams and yous,

Double you, one from you, one from me.
A me to you and I to me and vice versa.

Like matter anti matter, only immaterial, it makes nothing happen.

I enjoy imagining we can agree to let the air out of a trial balloon, and
in so doing we increase the peace of mind
on earth, one eight billionth of the gross human worth. My part. More with you.

You would not notice, except your part is next. I'm your cue,

I have waited for this your entire life. Go.
Be your best self more oft than not and

there's experiential scientific evidence that doing it gets

easier, and easier, until waiting is not suffering, it is patient

going with the current, taking the course as it comes, no trial,
no risk of damnation,

yep, there is a net. And do overs, no trial, no test, no lie,

do until y'do right, or die, but if you do right, and you know,

common sense can say it

seems right to show a shadow has another side.

keep the shiny side up, when y'hit the road. There is a detour up ahead.
I don't care if you can't imagine it. My Prius Persona converses with the Number 2 pump at the Sinclair station with the hookah bar where the **** bays used to be.
Ryan O'Leary Nov 2019
Ok Cathy, I did have an inkling
that this could have been the case,
hence, why I pursued those questions.

Having been in that predicament I
fully understand what the foetal
position and dark room means.

Once, it was Christmas week, I was
in a semi squat at 16 Britannia Rd
in Fulham.

Not far from Chelsea stadium it
links Kings Rd to Fulham Rd
near the Broadway.

I was minding ****, a cross between
an Irish terrier and a Kerry Blue, a dog
familiar with Marijuana.

It was many the time he got high on
it while we, Christopher Beresford and
I were marinating in alcohol.

Chris was the director of projects for
Debrett’s Peerage in Mossop St, I did
a bit of work there myself.

Chris went up to Bury St Edmunds
for Christmas, while I minded ****,
it was the first time I ate dog food.

The house had no heating and outside
toilet, gas and electricity had been cut off
due to non paid bills.

What money I had at the beginning of
that week, I spent it on drink and never
bought one morsel of food.

I drank water and spooned sugar until
it was all gone, I slept and woke and slept
all day, **** toiletted in the house.

No phone, nobody called and even if they did
I would’t answer the door, I had grown a stubble
I was ***** and unkempt.

The curtains were drawn, there was a low gutter
by the bedroom window which is what I used as
a urinel.

I was out of cigarettes, even all the butts had been
used up, it was cold and I got the poor mees,
I was ashamed of myself.

There was an old lady next door, she was well
aware the Chris was an extreme eccentric and
I was some sort of an odd Irishman.

In better times, I cleaned snow away from her
door and once I looked through the window and
discovered her on the floor.

She liked us, and no doubt felt as though we were
two lost cats unable to manage our lives because
of alcohol.

On the 25th, Christmas Day, towards evening, she
brought out a turkey carcass for ****, I knew her
voice, so I opened the door (plate width)

No sooner was she gone, and ****, who I had
given it to in her presence, was immediately
forced to surrender the Turkey.

Covered in his saliva, I was not in any state to
be pulling rank on ****’s social standing, we
were all of a sudden, equals.

**** did eventually get to participate in a
communal meal, as he got the gleaners share
of the boney discards being relayed to him.

There was a second knock, it was the lady again,
I apologised for not doing a better job at washing the
plate, ****’s tongue had no detergent.

She handed me a large bottle of Guinness, a
a packet of rolling tobacco, papers and matches,
I was in recovery, somebody cared about me.


Ryan.
Ryan O'Leary Apr 2019
Why the anxiety over Brexit,
Guardian readers express their
concern, ******* I say to that.

Brexit comes, you go, no big
deal, it is the way of the world,
nature, migration, emigration.

Why whinge, no benefits, just
annoying people with the poor
mees, get on with it, or accept.

— The End —