"tot" poems
for leather accrues
The miracle of the streets
The scents & smogs &
pollens of existence
Shiny blackness
so totally naked she was
Totally un-hung-up
We looked around
lights now on
Top see our fellow travellers
~~~
I am troubled
Immeasurably
By your eyes
I am struck
By the feather
of your soft
Reply
The sound of glass
Speaks quick
Disdain
And conceals
What your eyes fight
To explain
~~~
She looked so sad in sleep
Like a friendly hand
just out of reach
A candle stranded on
a beach
While the sun sinks low
an H-bomb in reverse
~~~
Everything human
is leaving
her face
Soon she will disappear
into the calm
vegetable
morass
Stay!
My Wild Love!
~~~
I get my best ideas when the
telephone rings & rings. It’s no fun
To feel like a fool-when your
baby’s gone. A new ax to my head:
Possession. I create my own sword
of Damascus. I’ve done nothing w/time.
A little tot prancing the boards playing
w/Revolution. When out there the
World awaits & abounds w/heavy gangs
of murderers & real madmen. Hanging
from windows as if to say: I’m bold-
do you love me? Just for tonight.
A One Night Stand. A dog howls & whines
at the glass sliding door (why can’t I
be in there?) A cat yowls. A car engine
revs & races against the grain- dry
rasping carbon protest. I put the book
down- & begin my own book.
Love for the fat girl.
When will SHE get here?
~~~
In the gloom
In the shady living room
where we lived & died
& laughed & cried
& the pride of our relationship
took hold that summer
What a trip
To hold your hand
& tell the cops
you’re not 16
no runaway
The wino left a little in
the old blue desert
bottle
Cattle skulls
the cliche of rats
who skim the trees
in search of fat
Hip children invade the grounds
& sleep in the wet grass
’til the dogs rush out
I’m going South!
40.3k
Your eyes shine with more intensity than the ocean can roar
Their image forever embedded within my mind
Reaching even the deepest crevices
Bringing light tot even the darkest depths
Awakening me from within
They're so easy to get lost in
It's like I become cloud
Lost in the vast, endlessly beautiful blue sky that is your eyes
Your eyes
Yeah
You could say I adore them.
Jan 19, 2015
Jan 19, 2015 at 3:23 AM UTC
Met jou patetiese pantomiem teen n God wat jy haat
verkrag jy harte en bevestig sy bestaan.
*** seer voel jou vuiste as jy slaan na die wind?
*** groot voel jou ego met die roem wat jy vind?
Swakelinge swig soos skape voor jou opstand en hype
Jou talent is verduister in verganklike tripe.
Jy is nie die eerste of laaste wat laster,
wat liefde verloor met die haat wat jy koester.
Ons is almal maar net wasems wat verdwyn in die mis
tot verniet gaan ons woede en onheilige twis.
Daar is nog genade terwyl die son skyn
om omkeer te maak van die krakende pyn.
Feb 2, 2010
Feb 2, 2010 at 10:33 PM UTC
What I fear isn’t hairy eight legged creatures crawling into my mouth at night
What I fear isn’t the whole “Something’s gonna come out of the dark and eat me,” while I’m trying to get a glass of water in the middle of the night.
Nor even when my father angrily yells at me
Because in all honesty he starts regurgitating spit from his mouth making it so hard to take him seriously when he’s drooling.
What I’m afraid of is…
I’m afraid of tomorrow…
You see,
Once upon a time
On a Saturday Night
I was so excited to finally finish writing my second chapter of my fan fiction
Talking to a few friends.
And relaxing from my stressful day of a Saturday.
Then suddenly a wild message about financial aid appears,
Now,
This isn’t where my fears start coming to life
This isn’t even where my thoughts were being provoked.
This was just a simple conversation about financial aid information.
You see,|
My friend knows little about financial aid and my friend asked about the information I know.
I thought, “Well I have limited knowledge on this…I’ll give my friend my best answers and hope it turns out alright.”
Well,
Things didn’t turn out the way I had imagined it.
You see,
This private conversation evolved into a group chat
And even the financial aid information conversation evolved into, “How are you
going to pay for your college expenses?”
You see,
I don’t fear of creatures with eight legs,
I don’t fear of monsters in the darkness
I don’t even fear of my father’s angry tone!
I fear what tomorrow’s going to be
I fear that my future will only just be a dream.
It’s so hard to be focusing on where I’m going to be at next year when this year looks like the saddest thing on Earth.
It’s so hard to concentrate on tomorrow when today looks like a horrible nightmare.
Today,
I’m stressed
I’m not stressed about my grades
I know I work harder than the average student.
I’m not stressed about the guy I might like
Because right now,
A boyfriend is not what I be needing.
I’m stressed that I may not get a job
I’m stressed that my dad may lose his
I’m stressed that my mom can’t find another
I’m stressed that I won’t be able to pay for my ACT Ticket
I’m stressed that I won’t be able to afford my SAT Subject Ticket
I’m stressed that I won’t be able to pay for my college apps
And I’m stressed that I can’t get fee waver
Because according to the government my parents make too much for me to have
one
When in reality
My family barely survives on a paycheck.
It’s getting harder and harder to survive on that paycheck
Because presently speaking
It’s getting harder and harder to pay to keep on living.
And because I don’t have a job yet,
My parents are still forced to pay for me to keep on living.
I’m stressed that I’m not going to have a tomorrow
I’m stressed that I’m not going to go to a college to pay college expenses for
I’m stressed that this fear is going to keep controlling my life!
But…
I can’t let that happen…
I can’t let this fear run my life.
‘Cause sooner or later its going to run it down tot eh ground and I won’t be able to recover from that
I can’t let this fear consume me,
Because I’ll never find a way out.
I fear something…
I don’t fear eight hairy legged creatures crawling into my mouth at night,
I don’t fear monsters eating me alive while I’m trying to get something to drink.
Nor do I fear my dad yelling at me.
I fear of tomorrow.
I can’t focus on where I’m going to be at next year when today is all foggy with no sign of light.
Dec 11, 2011
Dec 11, 2011 at 4:29 AM UTC
Opgedra aan ‘n kind wat gebliksem moet word.
Deur: Desperaatheid en vrees
Jy klim in en uit die ***** van bestaan,
beide die rede vir liefde en
die kind wat sy baar.
Jy is ‘n drievoud van godelike hervertellings
, want wie kan regtig liefde
in ‘n enkel sin verhaal?
Geminag , die seun van liefde en haat
- jou einste bestaan ,van die vroegste
paradoksale meesterstukke.
Verewig , verewig tot ‘n kind
tussen die Groottes wat
blindlings onder jou boogpunt swik.
Vir elke nasie ‘n ander droom
Vir elke geloof ‘n ander naam en
Vir elke mens ‘n ander god.
Amor , oh Amor!
Die sinnebeeld van liefde
wat die mendsom verbly
, maar Eros jou ramkat
jou hupse hygelbek!
Jou erotiese aanraak!
(die begeer ek)
En ek?
Met my koker van lig en van goud,
wat hulde blyk en bou en bring
maar bestorwe le voor my Laurel
oor ‘n lood-stomp pylpunt vir haar ‘n treuerlied sing!
Amor, Amor word wakker!
My son le liefdeloos in my bros hart
, wat instaan teen logika
– sterk op die oorlogspad!
Jy wat na my heuning reik
-met honger hande vieslik gryp
en ek wat jou met angel steek
in desperaatheid jou nat vel breek…
“Oh moeder”, roep die wetter na bo
vir die planete om aan te ****
“Oh moeder, Oh liefde “ ,spat die sot se treur,
“ *** kan so bietjie , so klein – so seer!”
En die heumel druis soos die moeder lag
haar humor eg , maar haar woorde sag:
“ My naakseun, my hinksperd
My fallus met vlerke!
Jy ,nog ‘n roosknop.
gaan ook so te werke!
Aanvaar die poëtiese justitie
Stil nou liefstetjie
Lamtietie Damtietie …”
Amor, Amor!
Weerstaan tog skoonheid se wieggelied
en wees my genadig!
Begunstig my ten einde laaste
, selfs vader tyd is verveeld
met die son se enkelpad!
*** lank nog wil jy sluimer?
Amor, Amor!
Tel weer op jou leisels
en bring liefde op die wind
my wereld lê in afwagting
vir die dolfyn en sy kind!
Wees my genadig, Amor!
Deurboor my leemte met goud,
,want die bringer van lig is slapeloos
en my hart is droewig en koud.
Oh Amor, Amor!
Ek weet jys nog jonk,
maar *** speel jy dollos met lewe se vonk…
Amor, Amor!
Word wakker!
Amor…
Dec 22, 2014
Dec 22, 2014 at 2:56 AM UTC
There once was a girl called Goldilocks
Who lived in a forest filled with phlox
She did not to have a soul to play with
And in the forest she would often drift
She once became lost, the lonely, little girl
The one with the head full of golden curls
Panicked and scared, she came upon a house
But it appeared that everyone there was out
She helped herself to the food, cold and hot
She tried the chairs until one hit the spot
Too tired to try to make her way back
She hit the sheets to take a nap
Very picky was this lost, lonely tot
Some porridge was too cold, some too hot
Beds too soft or too hard to sleep tight
Only one she found that felt just right
Mama, Papa, and Baby Bear were soon back on arrival
After a long day of fishing for their survival
What? Who had their nose in each of their bowls?
Gone was one porridge that to the brim was full
And who had sat in and broke one of the chairs?
It looked like a human by some strands of golden hair!
Hunters? Oh, no! Could they be on the prowl?
The bears sniffed around and started to growl
Baby Bear was the first to see
The little girl catching some Z's
"Oh, cool!" exclaimed little Baby Bear
"Can we keep her? Can she stay here?"
They all came upon Goldilocks all snug in bed
Papa Bear was now furious and began to see red
"And you call us animals!" he yelled loudly at her
"Who gives you the right?! Where are your manners?!"
Goldilocks woke up with an ear piercing shriek
Facing three hairy bears, she could not speak
Out the house she ran, far enough to see her home near
And that was the last that Goldilocks saw of those bears!
"She was just a scared, little girl", Mama Bear said to her spouse
"We could have stopped her and let her stay in our house!"
Papa Bear, disagreeing with her foolish trust, swore
**** it! I told you the last one out locks the door!!!"
"You begin feeding them...they are so clever
You'll never get rid of them. They stick around forever!"
Mama Bear refused to fight, for Papa Bear refused to bend
And that is all there is to the story. THE END!
Jul 25, 2010
Jul 25, 2010 at 7:53 PM UTC
Heartbeats fast
whispers and plans
a mother's heart conflicted
as she wrings her hands
through the courage,
streaming tears
she will let him go
despite her fears
Outside, canines barking harsh
men's cruel shouts
she must say her goodbyes
as the shots ring out
So many kisses
on his sweet, sleepy face
little man deep in slumber,
in angelic grace
yes, he cried for a minute
as the morphine kicked in
and she rocked him and rocked him
his little frame, so thin
Now as his father takes him
she crumples to the wall
"By the will of God may I see
him again" she whispers
for he is her all
Outside the freeze
puffs breath into clouds
the quiet imperative for
this next move:
Father gently slips son
into the rough-hewn jute,
No rotten potatoes today, no
this is far more important
No one will look for a tot
in a potato sack, he hopes
He looks around and slips
through the hole in the wire
These moments are critical
the need for speed is dire
A quick trip to the village
in the black cloak of night
looking over shoulder
Finally the house…it's just there,
the next meadow over
the secret knock is sounded
and the door opened in silence
warm arms greeting, helping
carry the goods inside
Will this be a respite
from all the endless violence?
Laid gingerly on the bed,
the sack is eased off gently
no potatoes inside
just a small sleeping boy
his parents only pride
Father strokes his hair,
Lays his palms on his head
to bless this bundle of sweetness
in his new environment
"I will come for you, my son"
tucks thin blanket around
and the deed is done
and now, in the cold lonely
smoldering air
of the burning dark
now in the kiss of hopeful protection
yes, now it's time to part
Back to his wife in the ghetto's
cold, sickened space
to try to convince her
to bust out of that twisted place
You are my warrior, you
and all the others
Your spirit beats on
in my
naked heart's
thunder
May 4, 2016
May 4, 2016 at 10:59 AM UTC
Shinchan, Shinchan we are his fan
He’s a tot but swanks as a man
He is too minute and he is so cute
Shot in the arm can put you in dispute
He pranks and clanks with pals or alone
Be it his school or be it his home
Mitsy his mom shouts as a norm
Harry his dad scouts to reform
Pranks and clanks both gets flop
When Mitsy gives him a pop on his top
Our fun gathers when he does not stop
And another one goes on top on his pop
Pops and shops is what he gets from his mom
We never go sad be whatever his form
Shinchan, Shinchan we are his fan
We will love him as much as we can
Dec 1, 2015
Dec 1, 2015 at 1:00 PM UTC
die wolke word swart
en vol water
tot hulle bars
met donder en
weerlig
ek staan in die reen
van die storm
papnat
ek lag
ek huil
ek dans
deur die storms
van die lewe
the clouds
become black
and full of water
they burst
with thunder and
lightning
i stand in the
rain of the storm
soaking wet
i laugh
i cry
i dance
through the storms
of life
Dec 15, 2011
Dec 15, 2011 at 2:17 AM UTC
Gebroken
verslonden
kapot
de muren
de vloer
waar ik sta
het is ingestort
buiten
en van binnen
Elke steen ooit gelegd is gevormd door jouw handen
neergelegd met een precisie als geen ander
het cement zo sterk, dat het elk blok omarmde
de muren
de vloer
waar ik sta
niets anders dan puin
buiten
en van binnen
Alles omarmende warmte wat eruit raasde
alsof het nooit zo is geweest, zoekend als dwazen
hetgeen wat we ooit als een rots in de branding voorzagen
de muren zijn weggeblazen
de vloer onder mijn voeten weggevaagd
waar ik sta
niets anders dan puin
buiten
en van binnen
Oorverdovende herrie dat het maakte
toen één voor één de stenen vielen
de hemel brak open
evenals het geluid van binnen, nu buiten, schreeuwend en krakend
geen muren
geen vloer
waar ik sta
niets anders dan puin
buiten
en van binnen
Wat ooit geborgen was, staat nu vrij om te raken
zo geschiedt, het lag immers open voor de gevaren
tot de blik op de edelen haar ***** verraadde
het werd zichtbaar, de klok tegen het geheime wapen
geen muren
geen vloer
waar ik sta
niets anders dan stenen
buiten
en van binnen
Als gegeven lagen ze er voor het oprapen
een voor een tot aan de daken
met eigen handen gebouwen om te bewaken
opende het de deuren tot alle ramen
de muren
de vloer
waar ik sta
niets anders dan stenen
buiten
en van binnen
Het haard inmiddels geladen
wat koud en kil was, is met volle vuren nu rustig aan het garen
tot in elke hoek weer een keer de zachte adem heeft geblazen
lege ruimtes langzaam gehuld in verhalen
de muren
de vloer
waar ik sta
niets anders dan stenen
buiten
en van binnen
Stap bij stap is elk blok aangeraakt, vormend in lagen
van buiten naar binnen en van binnen naar buiten, het is omgeslagen
met stenen, hand gesmeden
opnieuw de warmte in gekneden
van jou overgedragen op mij, een thuis door gekregen
de muren
de vloer
waar ik sta
alleen maar juwelen
buiten
en van binnen.
Sep 26, 2018
Sep 26, 2018 at 1:58 PM UTC
When a published poet dies,
A shooting star falls.
The universe cries
And rainbows hugs waterfalls.
When an old poet dies,
A new poet is born.
Nature lights up a million fireflies,
And a ship gives a tot on its horn.
When a young poet dies,
A Crack appears in a crystal ball.
A Fountain pen dries,
And a sad poem appears on a wall.
When an old poetess dies,
For a while the wind will cease.
Petals will fall from Lillies,
And disappear without a trace.
When a great poetess dies,
Fallen poets observe silence.
The men adorn black bow ties,
And the ladies dress in elegance.
When any poet dies,
The world loses a bright mind.
Shakespeare appears across the skies,
Waving to those of us left behind.
When a poor poet dies,
Nothing at all happens.
The world goes about its duties
He goes on to rest with other legends.
#IvanBrooksPoetry
29/7/2018
Jul 30, 2018
Jul 30, 2018 at 9:27 AM UTC
You were no Eve of Russian literature
like Pushkin’s precious Tatyana.
You were no young, innocent, provincial girl
seduced by cynical Onegin, that bon vivant
corrupted by modern European values.
You were no mysterious Russian soul
brimful of essential purity and self-sacrifice -
with a love of pain and pure disdain of happiness.
Tatyana resisted all temptation, refusing
to take flight, rejecting the man she loved.
She was too good to be true; but you, Anna
what a pickle you got yourself in, choosing ****** sin.
You could share an affair with dashing Vronsky
elope with him and leave behind your husband
abandon your beloved son, Alexei.
But these were not the dreadful choices
sealing your tragic fate, my dear Anna.
It was those ****** feelings you chased
all based on the sin of selfishness.
You fed on romance, passion and desire.
Your hot-hunger was insatiable, a fire
rip-roaring through restraint and all decorum
You sweated and panted wild for ******
They say you’re a ‘drama queen’; heartless and mean
a woman undone by excess, always longing to undress
nakedly making grand errors of judgement.
By ignoring Tatyana’s fine example, you certainly forgot
there will always be those who tot up the ledger.
Your blood debt was owing, it had to be paid.
You saw the light at the end of the tunnel -
cool down, Anna, let the raw feelings subside
be watchful, wary and ever-ready to step aside
let the moments of menace and gloom drain –
it might just be an oncoming train is due.
© M.L.Emmett 2016
Jun 21, 2016
Jun 21, 2016 at 6:14 AM UTC
Somewhere in your wardrobe, I'd be willing to bet
There's a t-shirt probably bearing the silhouette of Che Guevara
He was revolutionary, yeah, he wore a cool hat
But behind the design I think you might find it's not quite as simple as that
Che was a bit of a homophobe, Che was a bit of a homophobe,
I think... apparently.. who knows?
Che was a bit of a homophobe, Che was a bit of a homophobe
This is my song in defence of the fence
A little sing along, a anthem to ambivalence
The more you know, the harder you will find it
To make up your mind, it, doesn't really matter if you find
You can't see which grass is greener
Chances are it's neither, and either way it's easier
To see the difference, when you're sitting on the fence
Somewhere in your house, I'd be willing to bet
There's a picture of that grinning hippy from Tibet - the Dalai Llama
He's a lovely, funny fella, he gives soundbites galore
But let's not forget that back in Tibet, those funky monks used to **** the poor, yeah
And the Buddhist line about future lives is the perfect way to stop the powerless rising up
And he tells the poor they will live again, but he's rich now so it's easy for him to say
I'm taking the stand in defense of the fence
I got a little band playing anthems to ambivalence
We divide the world into terrorists and heroes
Into normal folk and weirdos
Into good people and pedo's
Into things that give you cancer and the things that cure cancer
And the things that don't cause cancer, but there's a chance they will cause cancer in the future
We divide the world to stop us feeling frightened
Into wrong and into right and
Into black and into white and
Into real men and fairies
Into status quo and scary
Yeah we want the world binary, binary
But it's not that simple.
And your dog has a bigger carbon footprint than a four wheel drive
Yea your dog has a bigger carbon footprint than a four wheel drive
And your dog has a bigger carbon footprint than a four wheel drive
And so does your baby, maybe you oughta trade HIM in for a Prius-
ROCK!
I'm taking the stand in defence of the fence
I got a little band playing tributes to ambivalence
We divide the world into liberals and gun-freaks
Into atheists and fundies
Into tee-tot'lers and junkies
Into chemical and natural
Into fictional and factual
Into science and supernatural
But it's actually naturally not that white and black
You'll be
Dividing us into terrorists and heroes
Into normal folk and weirdos
Into good people and pedos
Into things that give you cancer and the things that cure cancer
And things that don't cause cancer, but there's a chance they will cause cancer in the future
We divide the world to stop us feeling frightened
Into wrong and into right and
Into black and into white and
Into real men and fairies
Into parrots and canaries
Yeah we want the world binary, binary - 011101!
The more you know, the harder you will find it
To make up your mind, it doesn't really matter if you find
You can't see which grass is greener
Chances are it's neither, and either way it's easier
To see the difference
Cause it's not that simple...
Apr 4, 2013
Apr 4, 2013 at 7:06 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
Rusted trailers file in,
carrying pop-up roller coasters
and tilt-a-whirls. A tall man, face splashed
with paint, trips in oversized shoes.
His drawn lips smile, but teeth do not show.
A ferris wheel spins in the distance, time
measured in each rotation, the carnival's only clock.
Perched on a saddle, a small tot
rides a stallion, tangling her curled fingers
in its mane, cotton candy stained palms
shaking the reins. The steed chained
to a central post, muzzled in silence,
frozen like his carousel brothers.
Nov 16, 2013
Nov 16, 2013 at 12:22 PM UTC
My kinderjare was
Soetsappige drome
En ek het weggesluimer
Agter suiwer onskuld,
Met ń krag van geloof
Wat my oortuig het dat
My God ook jou God is...
Dat elke pad ń onnodige
Veiligheidsgordel verg
Dat elke beursie ń oneindigheid van R20
Note besit het en dat
Elke graf leeg was na die derde dag
Dit was deur die verskillende stadia van bogenoemde
Uiltjies knip wat my
Tot die meerderheids
Besef van addolosensie gebring het.
Selfs al het ek teen ń
Eksponensiële spoed
Ń volwasse begrip ontwikkel
,Was my redenasie oor die
Hiernamaals nog vaag
Met slaap in die oog
Eers toe daar een
langs my Val
En tien aan my sy
Het die drakoniese deun
Van die doodswek my
Uit my snoesige slaap geruk.
Met elke groef wat nuwe
Paaie teer vir my trane,
Elke silwer randjie wat
Lostrek van die donker wolke
En op my hoof kom rus
Soos die koue staal
Van ń koningin se swaard
Wat my inlyf in die
Sidderende realiteit van grootword en lewe
Nou is die droom verby
Nou staan ek op
En vrees om plat te val...
Ek oes en saai
Met ń bekommernis of my ploeg iets sal maai...
Nou word paaie ń lang gebed
Ter beskerming van my hart
Wat ek so maklik uitdeel
En beursies ń kommoditeit
Wat skree van die honger
Soos die mense van ń land
Wat al sy geloof verloor het...
Nou brand die sand my voete
En die seesout droog my vel...
Nou word wraak ń amp
En liefde ń kombinasie
Van gifte en giwwe
, maar ek sal nooit weet
Wanneer is dit wat nie...
Nou word lewe ń gebed.
Ek het ophou my
Kinder rympies sê,
Nou bid ek pynlik swaar
En hoop dat God
Nog genade vir my en
vir jou Sal hê
Amen
May 6, 2014
May 6, 2014 at 5:44 PM UTC
Daar was g'n tyd vir bybelversies nie
, want die brood van lewe was te duur
En wie wil nou regtig wag om ring
As die manne vir jou hoogliedere sing.
Aan die begin was daar niks nie
Maar hyt gepraat met sy hande
En toe was daar lig en oh die gode
Dit was goed! Dit was goed!
Maar hy was aleen in n wereld met als
En almal was sonder naam
, toe hy sy laaste een gee en ek
Deur bloed en been vir hom geskep is.
Dit was goed, dit was goed
En ek huil snot en trane van seer
Maar die appel proe soet
Of jy hom in die hemel of die hel hap...
Jy is die fontein van lewe,
Ek drink van jou en raak dors
Vir meer as net een aand van sterrevolg.
Mag ek dronk raak op jou wyn?
Of is jy my een reeds voor!?
En ek kan.nie kerk toe hol nie
En die Bybel vloek my skel
Want jou lyf voel soos die Hemel
Maar Hy se jy is die Hel.
Mag ek langs jou bed op kniee neersak
En jou hand in myne neem??
Kom ons raak besope...
Genoeg om liefdesliede
vir mekaar te kreun.
More bid ons om vergifnis
En vergeet wat sonde is
Tot die vlees te veel begeer
En die lewenslig so bietjie blus.
Dit is *** die liefde werk,
Dis my lewe dié
Die struikelblok wat my versmoor
Van n vel religie.
Feb 15, 2015
Feb 15, 2015 at 5:50 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
Wrapped round in swaddling clothes,
I saw her bright beaming face.
Lying helpless, still in a trance,
I sensed her soft soothing touch.
Warm it was when huddled tight,
Glad it was to be held close,
Pleasure it was to be lifted up,
And Heaven it was to be in her lap.
She took me in her gentle hands,
She fed me with her nourishing milk,
She made me sleep with lullabies sweet,
And kept alert on day and night.
As time slowly glided past,
I grew myself into a tiny tot.
Crawled around in sweeping haste,
Reaching out to all I could touch.
It left my mother so hardly pressed.
She never had even time to sit,
Cut down she, her afternoon nap,
Cast aside she her rest and respite.
My teething time – a real hard time!
For reasons none, I grew so irritable.
Itchy – fidgety, I cried on end,
Futile it went all her tricks to tame.
This made my mother grow jittery.
Consulted she every quack and doc,
Administered she every harmless dope,
And interceded to all divine help.
It was only a passing phase,
With consistent care, I grew to a buxom babe.
My childish pranks delighted all.
Too glad grew my mother to see me fare.
Soon I learnt to steady myself up,
The Toddler placed the first faltering step.
It was always with bated breath,
My mother watched my growing up.
She ever remained a pillar of strength,
In whom I saw a never failing friend.
She led me through the devious turns of life,
Always there to lend her helping hand.
In complex issues too hard to solve
Wise it was to seek her counsel
Sane and sound, she ever remained.
To trials of life, she never surrendered.
She taught me the quintessence of life,
She showed me the route to tread,
Her zest for life, never once cease,
Her trust in God ever on the rise
Now my mother ceases to exist,
But sure she will continue to live,
In my hearts domain, she reigns supreme.
No force on Earth can cast her out.
As I look back to days of yore,
All I wish is to conjure up the past,
To be reborn a second time,
To be my mother’s darling child!
May 8, 2016
May 8, 2016 at 5:46 AM UTC
alliteration in the title is as an aspect anally aspired
to a tee totally tot teetering
most metaphorically musical misses myst mystical matriculates into
xenophobia zats a hard one blew the whole ****** thing
i lost my alliteration my theme my (excuse the cliche)
train of thought
Feb 25, 2015
Feb 25, 2015 at 11:25 PM UTC
-Ek en my geraamtes het soms ook 'n uitval
Verdoem deur drome van 'n wakker oog
gee ek in tot die eindelose gekarring.
Waaroor die ophef van 'n silwerdoek beeld
die trane en inspirasie , aangemeld -
en saamgesmelt in elke belydenis?
Ek spaar toe maar my knieë en sak neer
voor die rekenaar en fynkam
die intrieke sydrade van ons spinnerakke
Vergrootglas die letters, opsoek na:
'n Gebed vir - 'n Gebed vir hom...
NEE MY!
Toe speel my storie... Ag ek meen
Sy outobiografie af en ek's aleen.
Elke nou en dan en dan en wan
vee ek oor die rekenaar skerm en
skrik as ek sý gesig sien.
Hy wou dit nie aanvaar nie!
- ek wou regtig nie!
Hy wou verander!
-ek wou regtig graag verander...
ek... - ek bedoel hy;
Ons ma's was swertsend selfs
godslasterik lief vir ons en
haar stickynotes het ons oral vasgekeur
, want Levitikus!!!
Levitikus sê NEE...
Ma sê die Bybel sê:
"Ons is dood".
Ma se sy wil ons nie verloor nie.
Kom sy nie agter dat ons in
haar geweierde woorde versmoor nie.
My knieë is lank genoeg gespaar.
Na 90 minute se snikke en trane
val ek neer voor die Heer en
almal wat nog wil luister.
Ware ellende stort uit perelpoele
en plas neer op die koue wereld.
Uiteindelik bid ek vir hom, maar
my gebede is te laat - met so
dertig jaar of wat -.
Ek hoop iemand bid vir my...
ek hoop die gebede vind my
- maar vir my , betyds-.
Want ek sit met VIGS van die
siel. 'n Tipe kanker op sy eie 'n
lifelong companion om die eufemisme
mooi te stel...
Ek is Hy.
Hy is ek.
Ons is ons eie tipe mens.
Amen
May 24, 2014
May 24, 2014 at 3:12 PM UTC
It can’t be TOO hard- being a duck that is.
My stomach growled watching a tot feeding a duck in the castle garden,
then my famished gears started turning.
Right. That’d be nice- I could go for some bread and a swim.
Ducks don’t even have to work for food- not these ducks
-they get fed.
I have to shop for bread,
and that’s not the half of it.
First I have to get to the bread,
which means risking it in my tired van
or sitting on a bus with a perfect smelly stranger
or pushing my luck crossing a bustling street.
And then, if I’m not way-laid…BREAD!
But I can’t just stuff it down my gullet,
and sure as day nobody’s gonna feed it to me.
The worst that can happen to a duck
eating bread
is getting its head wet…or choking on fruitcake.
Just when I was feeling particularly underprivileged
on the food chain,
I thought of my great grandfather
and his wooden decoy duck bobs
still sitting on my hearth back in Indiana,
and I thought of the dogs he used to chase the felled birds
and I thought of the bullets and the sharp October air, and the teeth,
and I felt silly.
Aug 24, 2011
Aug 24, 2011 at 2:15 PM UTC
it's in the appreciation of a fantastic tater tot
and a shared laugh after a missed rebound in trash can basketball.
it's in risk and fear and a crazy heart
in late night car rides and "I'm not letting go"
it's at Waffle House at 6AM on a Sunday
in the sheepish grins and sweetly sticky countertop.
it's in the raise of an eyebrow, a wink, a nod
in attention to detail. listening. feeling.
it's in perfect confessions (if shared)
and in a drive thru drink (but only if it tastes right)
it's in the smallest of gestures that mean "I'm sorry"
and the nod that says "you are forgiven"
it's in a car (blue, not black) with a broken console
and in the joyous laughter over squeaky leather seats.
it's in feeling different and wild and passionate
but in soft affection and the summer breeze.
it's in August, in between my toes like sand
natural, messy, persistent
but wonderful all the same.
he holds it for me.
Sep 5, 2014
Sep 5, 2014 at 1:11 AM UTC
Can I have a crystal-clear hour?
Please give me the gift of warmth...
Why do I feel as if I were two people
Oh, why do I feel as if I were two people?
At once rotten...and then, heaven-high
At once so rotten and then, heaven-hi-igh!
Could we unwrap a little bit of happiness?
Would you pour us a tiny tot of tenderness?
Why do I feel as if I were two people
Oh, why do I feel as if I were two people?
At once rotten...and then, heaven-high
At once so rotten and then, heaven-hi-igh!
Chorus:
Why won't you, and only you....follow me
Why won't you, and only you-ooh...follow love?
Why can't we....yes, only we-eeh follow love?
How is it that you're so sure to be carried along?
That may be your supreme gift, but only part of it.
Just erase the chill, put reality in pure starlight.
Refrain:
Suppose you wouldn't speak with me
So we skirt around issues, so close, can't cope
Can we ever pierce this stubborn membrane of confusion?
And not hesitate to take that steep road together?
Are we too involved ....to see the picture?
Gotta defy that slow chill....
To thaw, to release, to be someone else now.
Free.
Don't wanna know that.
Suspect it's too alone.
Gotta break down that wall, gotta thaw that chill
Really gotta explode into life - E R U P T ! !
Yeah, gotta burn that chill !
Star Toucher, 18 March 2013
Mar 18, 2013
Mar 18, 2013 at 10:24 AM UTC
That red-eyed squirrel, so common, yet so unique, follows them without being noticed. Emptiness.
As soon as he woke up, he walked out of his room into the hallway and saw it sitting there. Someone left his top door open, and a little squirrel wandered in. He cautiously walked up to the squirrel, afraid it would jump at him, or run away, but the squirrel remained still. The man made sure not to scare the squirrel, for there was something about the squirrel he couldn't quite get. So the man stopped right in front of that squirrel, right in front of his top door, the man thought he was dreaming for the squirrel had not moved. The sun was red, bright, burning him, blinding him, so he shut the door. The door fell shut, and the outside world was gone. All that was left was the man's home, in his hallway between two doors. He turned around and the squirrel was following him with bright red eyes, red like the sun, but not blinding. The eyes were enticing, and so the man followed. The squirrel led him back into his room and the man picked up the squirrel, the red eyes still following the man, the man still following those bright red eyes. Their eyes were getting wider, swallowing more and more. And the red eyes still remained. The eyes are getting the best of him, and he can't resist, so he drew his own drops of red, being pumped away more and more. As it poured through him he cried and looked up and noticed a glimmer of light shining, shining so bright, but not blinding, not the sun, nor the squirrel's red eyes, but a new light. The man looked back down still open, still staring, but saw no enticing red eyes. He looked back up, and saw the light was gone. All that intrigued him was gone, he mind in pieces on the ceiling, still trying to find light on the floor. He ran tot he hallway. The faucet poured nothing, the light switch turned to darkness when he wanted light. Finally he went to the mirror, his eyes still wide, but this time, red. The squirrel he saw, not himself, but a new self, a red self. The monster he saw was not him, it was not a creation. The sight of the beast shocked the man, causing him to jump. He didn't land. There was no gravity. There was only that monster, the monster with red eyes. He was floating in a new place, he saw Alex and Emelia whom he thought had passed, but next to him floating, falling, crying.
He blinked, jumped, and gasped for air. Ran out to that hallway, between two doors, both open and saw nothing but the outside world.
That red-eyed squirrel, so common, yet so unique, followed him, until he was gone. Emptiness.
Dec 13, 2011
Dec 13, 2011 at 1:50 PM UTC