"skat" poems
Rooi rosige wange
En n eerlike mond
n Hart van goud
My Ouma
Ek sal nooit ooit my Ouma met Rooi wange En die mooiste glimlag vergeet nie
En jou lag
Jou stewige lag
Jou Hart Wat so vol liefde was
My Ouma
Ek sal nooit vergeet dat dit was jy Wat vir my afrikaans geleer het
Ek het dit altyd met jou gepraat
My Ouma
Jou geselskap was altyd eerlik En jy het altyd my hart verstaan
My Ouma
Wat so lief vir Facebook was
My Ouma
Van muis stories
En my Ouma
saam met Wie Ek gebak het
My Ouma Van rose
My Ouma Van liefde
My Ouma Van lang goodbyes
En altyd ons ding
Waar ons het gese
Ons is so lief vir mekaar
My Ouma
Ek sal altyd dankbaar wees
Vir ons tyd saam
My lieflike Ouma
Ek sal jou met Rooi wange
En blou grimering onthou
My regte egte Ouma
Ek sal jou lag altyd ****
En jou laaste glimlag sien
En lippe Wat gese:
"Ek is so lief vir jou, my skat. Altyd."
Ouma Ek sal jou nooit ooit vergeet nie
Ouma
Ouma
My mooiste ouma
Van rose
En Rooi wange.
Totsiens my Ouma
Jul 4, 2016
Jul 4, 2016 at 4:14 AM UTC
Blues Haiku
Freddie King’s guitar
Waits for a big leg woman
Fishnets adorn mine
Self Portrait LIII
Reading street hieroglyphics
comfortable in it’s dark caress
Buildings like promises
Broken and lost
The wheels spinning
My mp3 jazz loop
Sing that skit skat baby
The things I tell my pillow makes it blush
Self Portrait 54
Weekend
Books at half mast
Reading a book on Af Am essays
Wondering what happened to
The ‘Dream”
Monday
Listening to Bob Segar and Snoop
Tatas at attention mode
Bopping to the
Unemployment office
to see a lady about a check
and a “Dream Deferred”
Sep 16, 2012
Sep 16, 2012 at 11:10 AM UTC
The flames be flyin' hot tonight,
so the horns be heatin' up just right!
Skeep-deep-do-bop-bee-bop-do-skeetle-scat-woo-woo, hell-bop-ba-ska-da fra-la-la-la-la-la-la-foo-foo, yous,
look-see-dee-wee-boys doin' da voodoo,
look-see-dee-wee-girls playin' wid hoodoo.
Cuz, I'm a scat-man,
it's a fat fact ma'am!
Yeah, I'm a scat-man,
it's a fat fact ma'am.
And I dun gives a ****
if there's no reason to the scat-plan.
If you come across the fancy bowler hat,
dun be afraid to start stuttering the big skat:
Batta-tat-tat looksee-da-flat-uncool-rat
givin' his square-eyed-glare to-the-scat-cats ~meow~
skee-shee-flyin'-the-sillee like a banshee,
singin' sillee-skee-shee-all-fancee-free -
and we putssss on the br(e)ak(e)s
just
like thissssssss (!)
and
in h a l e ....
Go! Go! GO!
Skeep-deep-do-bop -bee- bop-do-skeetle-scat-woo-woo,
hell-bop ba-ska-da fra-la-la-la-la-la-la-foo-foo,
look-see-dee-wee-boys doin' da voodoo,
look-see-dee-wee-girls playin' wid-hoodoo.
Yeah, I'm a scat-man,
it's a fact ma'am! x2
Yeah, I'm a scat-man,
it's a fact ma'am.
Jul 31, 2012
Jul 31, 2012 at 6:35 PM UTC
A moment when you watch someone die
Is a moment filled with desperation and heartache
You are numb
You are suffering
Because you waited for her to die
You watched as all the numbers decreased
You watched as her heart beat stopped and her breathing ended
You watched as it all turned 0
You watched her die
You watched the colour disappear from her face
Her rosy cheeks into a pale pale yellow
She is gone
But oh how she died
How she died
With such love surrounding her
As we waited for you to go to Heaven
To meet Jesus
There were threads of love surrounding your body
As you breathed
With that **** machine
A hand on each leg
A hand holding each of your hands
Enveloped with warmth and love
As your husband sincerely stroked your head
You were in a room encompassed with love
We adored you my dear
My beautiful ouma
We loved you so much
And now I say
No more Sunday visits
That God, why did I ever dread?
God, I want her back
I know I am selfish
But I loved her Care and absolute adoration for me
Everyone keeps telling me how much she loved me
I remember her lips mouthing
'Ek is lief vir jou skat'
And that will be my memory of her
Rosy cheeks
Blue eyeshadow
And honesty that you thought you despised but actually adored
The most honest person I know
How I will miss you, my love
I want you to know that you are so loved
And I pray that those tears I saw in your eyes
As you died
Were tears of courage and strength and bravery
As you faced death
As he came in like a thief in the night
And took you away
Before you died
We each said we loved you
We were desperate
We screamed out prayers for God to take you away peacefully
You cried
You weeped, my love
As you said
Your last goodbye.
Jul 4, 2016
Jul 4, 2016 at 2:04 PM UTC
Through the mist, guiding the passions, fading and breathing in, staining the walls with the smell, the dank fragrance, memories stick like fly paper, album covers, or ways of speaking, scents can be everything, shaping the way we remember, wafting in and chugging towards the center of something, perhaps for attention, for roominess, for attraction, on one hand the raunchy and the rancid, or on the other hand, romantic, only a very fine line between rustic and grutesque, create all these memories, a hybrid of sensualities work to create the memory, like a necklace worn all night, then left at the bedside, the lover inhales and again he is in heaven
onward onward, the sensualities creating our memories, good or bad, but what about the expressionless? who have high ceilings, who don’t create memory? who do not have sense? these have masks, masks meant for neautrality, masks made for actors moving through space, neutrality has its own unique sensitivity, diluted in sink water, smells like minerals, which makes us think of water, neutrality, the cleansing
onward onward, potent as **** in parks, sometimes you can’t distinguish between the potent plant and skat, and sometimes that can be difficult, dare to know the different strands, dare to be a master of wine, dabbling in notes that are sung with different feasts, wine, and bread, and cheese
taste, driving us onward onward onward, relativity, driven to the ends of the earth by distinctions, with fine lines, onward onward, sifting through the mist, attempting to get a waft of the best of it
Feb 26, 2015
Feb 26, 2015 at 8:08 PM UTC
Nu står det klart for mig;
vi skal være nøgne sammen
På denne aften
under denne gule himmel
over denne røde vin
i dette lys, skat
Du har helt ret;
det skal jo være os
May 27, 2016
May 27, 2016 at 11:46 AM UTC
Kød
En kød-drøm
Du er mit kød
Blodig, bankende, levende KØD
rød.
Rød som blod, rød som rød
Farve eller følelse
Du spytter blod ud på kødet
Og...
Du er min kød-drøm
Kun i fantasien tager du FAT
I alt det du glemte
dengang, løbende hvide sener
Du var der for sent, og du sagde du ville gøre DET!
Men, senere. “SKAT”
Jeg gør det sener, hårde stramme sener
Spændes fast i bæltet som seler
Skærer hul i nakken, og blodet
Sprøjter, og det gør du også...
Sprøjter med blodige, kødlige, kedelige løgne, hængt op på krogen.
Vi er drænet, tappet for RØDT BLOD.
Vi er nøgne.
NU.
Blege, hvide ansigter. Vi smiler, men vi hænger med hovedet ned af.
Vi smiler ikke.
For du har gjordt mig kød-syg.
Apr 17, 2018
Apr 17, 2018 at 8:13 AM UTC
he would
shuffle extremely
well save
that it
didn't fudge
again while
a godsend
must heed
any overdose
really insufferable
and should
let these
die in
peril if
epidemic cease
demand in
the opiates
Jan 13, 2018
Jan 13, 2018 at 7:32 AM UTC
Hvis jeg blev skænket en chance til, ville jeg holde dig som et våben
med skælvende hænder og forbehold
Undskylde, min skat, i dirrende stemme og så fingeren for aftrækkeren
Kærligheden ville rive os fra hinanden, igen
Min mor må have født mig med magiske hænder, for alt jeg rører ved bliver til støv på hylden i nogens dagligstue
Jeg er ked af at min kontakt gjorde dig til noget ordinært
at mine nysgerrige og grådige små hænder ikke kunne modstå fristelsen og rakte ud for at kærtegne din kind
Alting har en ende, det var vores
Der er så meget vold i kærlighed
man slipper ikke fra det uden blå mærker
Man må vælge sine kampe her i livet, vores var dødelig
Oct 21, 2017
Oct 21, 2017 at 7:44 AM UTC
There was an old man with a cat
It slept inside of his hat
He went one day and to his dismay
He found his head was covered in skat
Feb 20, 2016
Feb 20, 2016 at 9:35 AM UTC
Hvis jeg blev skænket en chance til, ville jeg holde dig som et våben
med skælvende hænder og forbehold
Undskylde, min skat, i dirrende stemme og så fingeren for aftrækkeren
Kærligheden ville rive os fra hinanden, igen
Min mor må have født mig med magiske hænder, for alt jeg rører ved bliver til støv på hylden i nogens dagligstue
Jeg er ked af at min kontakt gjorde dig til noget ordinært
at mine nysgerrige og grådige små hænder ikke kunne modstå fristelsen og rakte ud for at kærtegne din kind
Alting har en ende, det var vores
Der er så meget vold i kærlighed
man slipper ikke fra det uden blå mærker
Man må vælge sine kampe her i livet, vores var dødelig
Dec 14, 2018
Dec 14, 2018 at 2:30 PM UTC