"reg" poems
My hart klop groen vir groei
en ander goed
en pomp van hormone
en suurtof ryke bloed
dit was liefde
met eerste oog opslag
dis net jammer my oe staar blind
teen die mes in jou hand
wat op my kaal rug wag.
Dis 'n gan an soort klop
die go-ahead van my kop
die alles sal reg wees
in jou glimlag
jou oe die mandaat
van 'n regte terg gees.
en ek gaan vir die groen
en silwer en goud,
vir al die goeie goed
vir die land sonder fout.
Maar my hart is die
Andries Hendrik Potgieter
van my boere bloed
wat waarsku teen jou
met alle moed.
My heldersiende hartklop
wat my weg probeer lei
van nog 'n ou grappie
en nog 'n bietjie seerkry.
Nou klop hy rooi
hy klop bloed
hy klop stop.
Maar soos 'n GP kar
vermy ek die tekens
in my haas vir jou mond.
Voel die lem deur my ribbes gly
dood, nog voor die grond.
en my hart, wil lag,
maar skree verwoed.
Nou kook die boerebloed!
Jou simpel, jou wetter
jou bogsnuiter kind!
Snou my hart my toe,
nou is hy stil en
gee my die silent treatment.
Jun 17, 2014
Jun 17, 2014 at 6:18 PM UTC
Haar hoekkantoor
In elke straat
Elke gulsige kliënt
Ń vark, n vraat
Besig om haar naam te maak
Die vrou van dir nag
En haar eenmansaak
In die oggend skrop
Sy , staalwol
Skuur glad
Teen haar tenger
Figuur maar blou
Passie versier en
Versuur haar wese
Dis nie moord nie
Dis nie dood nie
Dis glad die reg nie
Dis sonde , ellende
Haar bedoelings
Was nooit sleg nie
Haar troos is min
Haar teespoed swaar
Haar siel verkoop sy
Vir ń appel en ń ui
Want wie kan ń prys
Op die liefde sit
Sy tel haar winste
In trane en seer
Die geld is ń bonus
Het sy beweer,
Want die vrou van
Die nag, kort ook ń soen
Sy werk vir liefde
En tot die oordeelsdag
Sal sy dit bly doen...
Apr 17, 2014
Apr 17, 2014 at 10:17 PM UTC
I
Reg wished me to go with him to the field,
I paused because I did not want to go;
But in her quiet way she made me yield
Reluctantly, for she was breathing low.
Her hand she slowly lifted from her lap
And, smiling sadly in the old sweet way,
She pointed to the nail where hung my cap.
Her eyes said: I shall last another day.
But scarcely had we reached the distant place,
When o'er the hills we heard a faint bell ringing;
A boy came running up with frightened face;
We knew the fatal news that he was bringing.
I heard him listlessly, without a moan,
Although the only one I loved was gone.
II
The dawn departs, the morning is begun,
The trades come whispering from off the seas,
The fields of corn are golden in the sun,
The dark-brown tassels fluttering in the breeze;
The bell is sounding and the children pass,
Frog-leaping, skipping, shouting, laughing shrill,
Down the red road, over the pasture-grass,
Up to the school-house crumbling on the hill.
The older folk are at their peaceful toil,
Some pulling up the weeds, some plucking corn,
And others breaking up the sun-baked soil.
Float, faintly-scented breeze, at early morn
Over the earth where mortals sow and reap--
Beneath its breast my mother lies asleep.
3k
'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
Oct 8, 2013
Oct 8, 2013 at 7:12 PM UTC
Haar hoekkantoor
In elke straat
Elke gulsige kliënt
Ń vark, n vraat
Besig om haar naam te maak
Die vrou van dir nag
En haar eenmansaak
In die oggend skrop
Sy , staalwol
Skuur glad
Teen haar tenger
Figuur maar blou
Passie versier en
Versuur haar wese
Dis nie moord nie
Dis nie dood nie
Dis glad die reg nie
Dis sonde , ellende
Haar bedoelings
Was nooit sleg nie
Haar troos is min
Haar teespoed swaar
Haar siel verkoop sy
Vir ń appel en ń ui
Want wie kan ń prys
Op die liefde sit
Sy tel haar winste
In trane en seer
Die geld is ń bonus
Het sy beweer,
Want die vrou van
Die nag, kort ook ń soen
Sy werk vir liefde
En tot die oordeelsdag
Sal sy dit bly doen...
May 6, 2014
May 6, 2014 at 5:47 PM UTC
Reginald "combover" Twistleton-Smythe
had hair on his head but just on the side
He wore a big hat when out for a walk
Too scared to shave and have a flat-hawk
One day at his Gran's fell asleep after tea
and woke up to find he was combover free
He saw grandmas scissors behind on the shelf
As she looked in his eyes and said "Be yourself!
With that combover thing Reg, you sure do look silly
Go shave your head, you'll look just like Bruce *****
"But my heads the wrong shape, it just wont do the trick,
I'll look less like Bruce ***** and more like a ****
"Listen to your Gran for I always know best,
I'm not saying go out and run round in a vest.
Just cut your hair short and wear it with pride,
it'll be like a mohawk but just on its side"
Reggie "flathawk" I've heard people say
now runs round in vest shouting Yipee Kiyay
Jul 29, 2010
Jul 29, 2010 at 11:31 AM UTC
niemand behalwe ek ken die krag van jou hartklop van binne. dus die eerste ding wat ek gehoor het. dit het my gekalmeer en gese moenie bekommerd wees nie ek is hier, altyd. gevolg deur 'n rustige stem wat die wind kalmeer. die het gesing en gebid oor my. gesondheid was die meeste gevra. die stem het baie gepraat. dit was goeie tye vir my. al wat ek graag vergeet is die tye wat jy en die ander stem gestry het. dan het jou stem verander na hartseer en bedroef. trane het jou wange gevul terwyl jou arms my omvou het. al stywer en stywer. so belangrik was ek.
die groot dag, jy het gese jy gaan jou hare eers was, maar toe versnel die hartklop en dinge gebeur wat ek nie begryp het nie. jy het ernstig siek geword en nog alleen by die huis. jou arm om my hospitaal toe. ek is gebore saterdag 25 mei 1985.
skielik was ek alleen en weg van my geliefde klop. jy was in 'n diep slaap. mense gehardloop om ons om als weer reg te maak. ai opwindende oomblik. Maar geen arms wat omvou en rustige stem wat bekend is nie. net vreemdheid.
Apr 3, 2013
Apr 3, 2013 at 2:06 AM UTC
Jy hou van die manier waarop sy jou naam troosvol uitgespreek het na 'n swaar dag wat jy gehad het.
Jy is lief vir *** sy jou bekommernis verlig met elke woord wat sy sê dat jy nie presies kan vind *** sy daarin slaag om dinge wat jy nie kan uitdruk nie, uit te druk.
Jy hou van *** haar teenwoordigheid jou op jou reënerige dae troos en warmte gee.
Jy hou van haar klappergeur wat in jou kar hang nadat sy saam jou iewers heen gery het.
Jy hou daarvan om die geluid van haar lag te **** wat die leegheid van jou wêreld vul, soos simfonie jou uit die leemte haal.
Jy is lief vir *** sy gedigte geskryf het wat jy altyd weggevoer het, *** hulle gewys het hoeveel sy jou liefgehad het.
Jy hou van die manier *** haar klein vingers met joune verbind is, *** dit jou laat voel het dat jy die is wêreld waarna sy draai.
Jy is lief vir *** hierdie woorde die helderheid van die sterre diffundeer en *** hulle in die konstellasies hierbo vervang.
Jy hou van die manier waarop sy haar lippe saggies die besonderhede van jou gesig spoor soos 'n veer wat sy tydelik in die golwe van die wind laat dryf.
Jy hou van die geluid van elke strook van die potlood wat sy gemaak het toe sy die kruiswoorde wat jy op jou tafel gelos het, opgelos het, en besef dat dit nooit reg was nie, maar om na haar te kyk, was 'n antwoord self.
Jy is lief vir *** sy alles vir jou gemaak het, so erg dat dit jou laat verdrink het.
Jy is lief vir die idee van liefde wat hierin gevorm word.
Feb 24, 2019
Feb 24, 2019 at 5:11 AM UTC
A selection of limericks
There was a young lass from the Bronx
Whose ******* make fearful honks
She sounds like a car
When she puts on a bra
And the geese gather round when she bonks
-----------------
Father Alexander McMackett
Ran a ruthless religious racket
When taking collection
He'd offer protection
Salvation could cost you a packet
-----------------
A carrot named Archibald Nation
Had feathers in high numeration
He was labelled as veg
By a grocer called Reg
With a dubious qualification
-----------------
A sculptor named Arnold Duprees
Carved a **** plug from parmesan cheese
He lamented his luck
When it melted and stuck
But he fired it out with a sneeze
-----------------
Knights in the armour of old
Have little to keep out the cold
For they dress as the Scots
In thier tenderest spots
Which encourages rust and then mould
-----------------
Oh ***** you make my knees quiver
You chemical lethargy giver
You tickle my tongue
And pickle my brain
Then you jump up and down on my liver
-----------------
A Fella named Ricky De Gaul
Had seventeen ******* in all
They called him De Chesty
But with only one *****
It should have been Ricky De Ball
Apr 5, 2013
Apr 5, 2013 at 8:15 AM UTC
Who am I? What am I?
It's been a while since I cried
Am I a brain on top of a body?
Just processor performing code?
Well, who wrote the code?
Who wrote it?
It's been a while since I was I
I'm not a brain, I have one
I've got hardware put there by Someone else
Who am I?
I'm a computer running software I didn’t write
I'm a soul interacting with a body, a brain
Whose health I neglect on a reg
What am I?
I'm a decaying accumulation of skin
And blood and bone and neurons
I got neurons in my heart
And that's a good place to start
The heart is the mouthpiece of the soul
My identity gets tied up in the whole
Idea of my performance
And my influence
Like if I sing a song badly, my soul takes the hit
And if I lead my partner astray, the whole of me is ****
The whole of me is ****
There's holes in me
But who put them there?
I combust in small increments
My skin flies off in perfect circles
They're fragments
My heart, it's hiding behind these explosions
Hiding behind them because it causes them
Because my mouthpiece is expressing my hate
My lack of love for myself
Hate is just a word we put on the shelf
It's like darkness and coldness
Describing something through absence
Darkness; the absence of light
Coldness; the absence of heat
If hate is the absence of love I might
Just be the one who beats me
Who defeats me
Who carries my heart, my brain, the rest of me
Tied around my neck on a string that I pull through
Like my body is in captivity
I'm privileged to honor this body that I didn’t make
I'm greatly gifted a brain to maintain
My heart, my body, my brain
They shouldn't be strangling me
They shouldn't be dragged through the dirt
They should be a part of me
I am a soul
I have a mouthpiece
My heart is my mouthpiece
My brain is my hardware
That rusts and which I expend
God help me love me
And Who I am
And Who You are
God, make it so apparent to me in my falling out
That I am a part of the three-legged stool
To Love You before all else
To Love everyone else
And to Love myself
Help me see You accurately
God help me
God help this American switch culture
I am not a machine that functions at the flip
Of a switch
I am a soul, a CVT, a cable that climbs up and down
Depending on the speed of the wheels
And decelerating is okay
And (not but) accelerating is wonderful
I do not go 60MPH because I flipped a switch
I go 70MPH because I climb
I climb
God help me climb
And to falter well
And to suffer well
Humble me in my faltering suffering
Feb 6, 2017
Feb 6, 2017 at 11:07 PM UTC
Want die more bring die goue
die nuwe , hitte , dag
en wind wat deur die takke skeur
die dood wat huil ;n kind wat lag
en twyfel sypel deur die huurglas
soos tik , of sandstorms
bring die tyd ook wroegings
van interne euforie
en donker oorskry die norms
geen meer swart en wit
geen meer ja , nee
reg, verkeerd
ek weet nie
ek weet nie meer nie
elke dag bring heldersiendheid
met eerste oogoplsag
maar elke more twyfel ek
terwyl Janus vir my lag...
terwyl 'n amper skynbare keuse
op 'n defnitiewe antwoord wag
Sep 2, 2014
Sep 2, 2014 at 9:39 AM UTC
He said he like my profile pic
Asked could we talk for a bit
But I know
That convo
will only be short lived
Flood of compliments leading to
"C'mon girl. Just the tip"
Passport stamps show I been on this trip
A reg in Deja Vu
The trouble the dance
of my hips & lips gets me into
My smart wits. I know I get it
Immature ******** they dig it.
But that noise
My conscious telling me to **** it
Sorry brutha but
you ain't sayin much that I like
I am flattered. Peace to you
Goodnight
Jan 24, 2015
Jan 24, 2015 at 12:28 AM UTC
Jy het die reg tot lewe
Oh grondwet, die dood lag jou uit!
Die sardoniese blik
van 'n gesteelde besluit,
**** jy nie die klop-klop van vier perde hoef
wyle die openbaring in
jou blaaie kom poef.
Skaam jy jou nie
vir sulks blatante leuen,
of het jy jou ore aan Satan verleen
toe jy jou hoop soos saad versprei
om naief- die jeug, in die versoekingte lei.
Ons eet karkas-krummels
as 'n daaglikse brood
Terwyl jy ons verseker
dat jy die waarheid ontbloot
soos die arme tiener meisie,
geryp; en nou - dood.
Jou bedoelings was goed,
maar jou kakpraat te groot.
Jul 14, 2014
Jul 14, 2014 at 6:38 AM UTC
I think that I thought that
thinking was might....
And something was nothing without
proper insight....
So I thought...
And I thought...
And I thought all day long!
I thought about thinking,
I thought up new songs!
I thought about thinking
about thinking
to think.
I thought 'till my hair grew!
And all my clothes started to shrink....
You might think that would hinder me,
but HA! you'd be wrong!
Nothing could stop me!
In fact, my thinking prolonged.
I did nothing but think for- oh, say 8 years?
I grew out of my childhood,
I forgot all my fears.
But someone did ask me
"What do you do?"
And I answered (quite proudly),
"I think! How 'bout you?"
And he looked at me,
sizing me up.
"You think? How unusual! A reg'lar big brain!
Thinking all day would drive me insane!
I just couldn't stand it,
missing out on my fun.
Never to just sit, soaking in sun.
Never to just laugh,
but ALWAYS having a thought.
I only know what I need to know,
and what my teachers have taught!"
And he left me to think about what he had said.
And I thought...
And I thought...
'till I hurt my head.
I began to just think about my life,
without thought.
Perhaps reach the dreams I had thought,
but not sought...
But I was too biased,
too set in my ways.
I'll just have to think about it
as I sit wasting my days....
Jan 22, 2010
Jan 22, 2010 at 6:16 PM UTC
Lonely black lab on the path behind the garages I used to sell crack
Went to the shop, brought some **** blacked out windows on a cab
spells danger backwards that's Reg Nad
So I'm looking all around me, back at the cash grab
Where old ladies clutch black bags and wear glad rags
I'm not glad lad, 'cus the world looking like rag mags
with girls selling soul on corners right now
where their daddies sag lag on the track; Baghdad
where war heroes return home back to the smack
and clap traps where they get and share the clap; sad
or when little kids run to their mummies 'cross roads all alone
to their home that used to be a home but now is a dome for the dome
so food can be put on tables that rust and break and the kids get hurt
child protective services, what's worse
I'll tell you what's worse living in a hearse
or a one berth tent on this Earth where the ones in charge
discredit your worth
or better still when they ignore your very existence
so we're standing here screaming and pleading
bleeding and scheming
because there's no food in the cupboards
quit dreaming
stop the screaming
Lousy demon fiending, feeding the sea men with *****
on seashores the sea's ****** sing hee-haw the horse of remorse
hits the veins and see more the way the see-saw zig-zags
back to the black labs on lagging black paths
behind the garages I used to sell crack
Mar 16, 2015
Mar 16, 2015 at 5:50 PM UTC
i'm going mad
i put down two runs of reg meat,
a run of quarter meat,
and hell some grilled chicken.
in my dreams
i hear the grill timers going off
i hear the beeping of the cabinets
i hear the loud scream of the microwave
i'm going mad
Jun 18, 2016
Jun 18, 2016 at 2:48 PM UTC
steal your own words
preach, have a cig
have a glass of water
transform
bigger gods, ya know
bigger, fatter, just ****** lovely
bloodier
god available 24/7, first 3 months free
great walls& warnings
great flood of sweat& tears
buildings higher each 500 years
( respect mountains madly
bring cross to the top of them
they must need it so there )
"your land is in for years of desperation + need
come back where you belong, where you were given"
statues crying in religious ecstasies
backpacking pilgrims so far in the street
they end up not in church, but steps of a modern arts museum
gather lucky fortunes and buy pepper-pots
live earthly walking on air
**** it - Jesus just loved water ski
**** on salt
Jul 23, 2018
Jul 23, 2018 at 8:25 PM UTC
My mental age is accelerating at an alarming rate. Possibly 3X faster than the average human. Maybe even 4. Given my cynical disposition (Grumpy Old Man Syndrome), crew socks, boxers and claim to the recliner - it doesn’t appear to be gender specific in accordance with traditional gender roles. My newfound interest in wicker furniture is a strong indicator that it won’t be long before I am browsing ceramic cat figurines at the local flea market.
A recommended Rx to reverse damage and encourage a more youthful and chipper propensity would be greatly appreciated by those who have to look at my face on the reg. Thanks in advance.
Feb 11, 2017
Feb 11, 2017 at 10:29 PM UTC
"Nou wie is jy?"
"Ouma, my naam is Siyasanga,
Ek is jou dogter Lalie se seun"
"My Lalie, sy wat in Suid Afrika bly?"
"Ja ouma, ek het vir ouma kom keur"
I watch on as the spark of recognition lights up her eyes
Happiness flowers through the creases on her face like fresh rain through a Namib riverbed
Her brow furrows as if trying to keep this revelation prisoner
The Sun continues its long journey across the sky
Her brow relaxes, and. . . . .
"Hello virtel my, my kind,
Wie is jy?"
"My naam is Siyasanga Ouma,
Ek is ouma se klien kind.
My ma se naam is Lalie"
"Lalie, sy is my dogter wat in Suid Afrika bly"
"Dis reg ouma, ek het vir ouma kom keur"
The spark returns
The fresh rain flows
The love warms my soul as we embrace
The Sun once more takes flight
Taking respite from the heat
I watch as she shuffles and shimmies and shuffles once more down the corridor
To the foot of the bare bed I've made my haven
Words like spun silk spill from her lips as she asks
"May I sit here my child?
"Ja my ouma, ouma hoef nie vra nie"
She shuffles and shimmies and sits down to read
What a beautiful life affair she has with words,
Even those from a magazine,
Whose pages danced that day at her touch
A letter whose ink for 2 decades laid dry
The name of the man she loved preserved in his evergreen book
Both retrieved from the vault that was her purse
Oh how she loved those words, and they loved her
She turns her head to look at me
With that spark in her eye
"Jy is my Lalie se seun"
I smile, my face awash with fresh rain
"Ja ouma, ek het vir ouma kom kuier"
Dec 4, 2019
Dec 4, 2019 at 5:52 AM UTC
. pękł -
reg. a balloon:
he burst,
in other languages
certain words
have no
gender neutrality,
why double the standard
for a per se fetish,
regarding neither noun
nor verb gender neutral,
by sole testimony
identifying pronouns
as gender neutral?
move to switzerland,
and you'll find certain objects
having a gender bias...
e.g. a grenade is male,
a chair is female,
a table is male...
not really:
a chair is gender-neutral,
a sleeve is male,
the sun is female,
the moon is male,
the bed is female,
the floor is female,
a house is a hermaphrodite,
as is tango.
how can you attain
gender neutrality
within the framework
of pornouns?
sorry, pronouns...
english is
looking, but rather not looking
at itself being
constrained in a straitjacket...
******* lunatics, a bunch
of ******* lunatics...
pronouns are
gender exclusive...
other european tongues?
their nouns are gender
inclusive...
to me the english
language is ********
or at least contrasting
the darwinistic bombast:
neanderthal.
and to think,
it only took the church being
truly established,
the mistaken identity of
the dead sea scrolls,
st. thomas' gospel,
and the nag hammadi library...
bunch of wanks...
sure, if the atlantic sea
is just a pond...
wanks welcome yanks...
in continental
european, a chair can summon
a male pronoun association,
while a frying-pan can summon
a female pronoun...
england was never going to
be as eccentric as iceland...
unless in never never ever land.
pękła,
yep, she burst.
Jun 27, 2017
Jun 27, 2017 at 7:48 PM UTC
dans jy
jou duiwels uit?
bid jy
hulle reg?
sing jy
hulle aan die slaap?
sus jy
hulle gille weg?
of
voer jy hulle gif
tot jy hulle as wapens kan rig?
Feb 7, 2019
Feb 7, 2019 at 12:48 PM UTC
Can we find a central meeting place?
How's Reg, bet the doctor's haven't told him his got the big C,
leastways with the fog he won't find his tumour when lost.
A pint of mild and bitter mate
down Portland Steeet.
Heard Adriennes black dress is a stunner.
Ask her out to the flicks, maybe Doctor in Love?
"Not if it gives her any ideas
Walking down the aisle is too like the
black out, remember".
Mar 23, 2016
Mar 23, 2016 at 6:31 PM UTC
I thought I did the right thing,
So what does that mean?
Either what I thought was right
Was the wrong thing,
Or I was wrong to want
To do the right thing.
Jul 7, 2014
Jul 7, 2014 at 9:11 PM UTC