I'm looking for a Neurotic Girl
someone who will break down before I do
someone who's not afraid to cry,as the tea kettle boils,
after telling me about her problems.
Someone I can worry about,and do unselfish things for, and offer some comfort to,
someone who depends on me for a change.
I'm looking for a girl
who isn't too confident in herself,even though she's wonderful,
at least in my eyes.
Someone who hasn't got her entire life sorted out, just yet.
Someone who'll realise that I can be a nice person, behind the facade.

Because these days I'm wandering
from party to party
from pointless
city centre venues
and all-too-familiar and contemptible
small town social haunts
and all I see and hear
are the attention-seeking, the unreachably friendly, the distant
and the involved
All swimming in mediocrity
If you'll pardon the fake sophistication of that last metaphor
And all I'm left to do
is wonder what it would be like
to find someone
who I could be Introspective,
Debauched and Nihilistic with
A nice Neurotic Girl.

But I suppose that would invariably lead
to some sort of responsibility
in my otherwise self-absorbed existence
I would have to pretend that I am a proper kind of person
for the sake of my fragile lover's much needed feeling of security
I would take it upon myself
to go out into the world
to keep a sort of balance for the both of us
spending headache-inducing hours
with people whom I cant stand
while she sits at home
and smokes
in bed.

Musk. Wind

whispers mysteries in the form of it;
it thickens thin air until it turns black,
black enough to

hush. Wind,

being black, absorbs your thoughts,
makes violent curls of them; thickens,
thickens thin air until it

transmogrifies
into pages and pages
stained black with disaster-
as if a hurricane crumpled

those could-have been white aeroplanes, potential
papered to fly, and flung them
into the pit of your mind to
sink
             deeper
and
                            deeper
and
                                          deeper
until
your poems were written and the casualties numbered:
each line a suicide of a thought that could have been,
each syllable ink-stained and bloodied black
by artistic integrity, or madness: the same.

This wind is your hair.
This wind is your territory.
Not mine. Never could I have met you here,
in this place
of your solitary being: where real poets exist.

I am not a hurricane: and I am not your disaster.
I have learnt and re-learnt how useless it is to define you
in terms of myself; how useless it is to define you
at all. A rationalist like me can never truly understand
what it is to be part of your endlessness, the sheer
mountainous immensity that constitutes your thrill.
Yes,
your hair fascinates me as much as any ancient,
spiralling, far-away Andromeda- but the fact
that even now,  I've already tried to limit you
with words
shows the absoluteness, the solidity,
the density
of my misunderstanding of your... your...
And

real poets know that rationalists are fools.
You know

I am a fool.
I write these meagre verses
with unreachably cold computer technologies
thinking
that these words could somehow save us. Yet,
simultaneously,
I am some drunken nuisance knocking
vehemently
at your door, who turns and strolls
away
right before you finally
answer.
I am a fool

going home and seeing clouds
in the darkness. It is my first
time seeing them in the sky. First
time in nearly a month.
The moon illuminates the clouds,
and so do
the towers of highway lights in the middle of two roads.
One road leads forward, the other backwards.
As the car passes the towers,
the two lamps attached to each of their heads glow.
They streak on as the car speeds on homewards.
They leave fading tails like shooting stars, except they do not travel.
They are stagnant mind lights, peripheral memories; unmythical,
artificial.
They are not like you.

When I pass you,
You....
You...

You.

Please,
never believe-
for even a whisper of musk
to yourself;
for even a black hush,
to yourself;
for even one sliver, one strand
of Andromeda hair, falling
towards yourself-
that
Grahamstown
didn't mean anything less than Eternity to me.

It does.

I am not a hurricane. I am not your disaster.
You are far too much of yourself
for me to be even a zephyr
to you.

Here’s the thing:
I am okay because I’ve learned how to distort the pieces of us, the pieces of our story
I forcibly separate the past from our current reality
The you I know now isn’t the you I used to know
The feelings I felt for you, the words you spoke that filled me with an irreplaceable notion of happiness, are all distant memories
They have no place in our present

Even though I see you now, even when we’re sharing the same space, same bed, same air
I miss you
Because the you that I fell deeply in love with
On a bench alongside the garden of roses beside the lake
Alone on a balcony in Paris
By your side on the dock, underneath the blanket of stars that allowed us to fool ourselves, fall for the facade that we were possible
Isn’t the person you are to me now

You are unreachably distant
I think you’re choosing to be different
To help me, to make it easier on you, who knows
You won’t let me in, and I don’t know if it’s because you’re afraid of what that will mean for you, or what that will mean for me
Perhaps it’s a little bit of both

You could be simply a victim of your own immensely busy life, choosing to rarely classify me as a priority
Or maybe you’ve decided that we’ve been reckless, careless, stupid, one too many times

But I don’t know how to be anything aside from that
One word from you, one glance my way
And I realize that denying that, denying you, would be turning down an irrepressible part of myself
A part of me I will never be able to ignore -
because it’s the part that will always belong to you

Mar 3, 2009*

Where do you go to when you feel nobody cares?
Do you think of your old friend and wish I was there?
Do you ever remember all the fun things we did,
the good times we had and the feelings we hid?
Now I know you weren't ready for my kind of love
But it isn't that different than the one you're thinking of
'cause all that really matters is that the love you feel is strong
and that strength comes from the feeling that you really belong
I'm not saying that I think you were wrong and I was right
I'm just wishing you were here on my own lonely night

Here the weather's so clear and the moon is so bright
as I watch the couples staring up at the stars in the sky
and once I would have felt those same feelings inside
and the warmth of my love would have shone through my eyes
but tonight the stars look cold and so unreachably high
And there's no one to turn to and I'm too tired to cry
Ah but if you ever read this don't think you're to blame
You did what you had to and in that there's no shame
I'm not trying to say that you were wrong and I was right
I'm just wishing you were here on my own lonely night

So where do you go to when the world leaves you alone
When your heart has many questions but not a single home
When you're sick of being told the love you're feeling is wrong
and you've kept it to yourself for too incredibly long
and though you've found many others who seem to feel like you do
there's still no special other that makes you feel special too
Now I hear you're getting married to someone I've never met
and I'm jealous, and I'm saddened, and I'm full of regrets
Still I'm not saying that I was wrong and you were right
I'm just wishing you were here on my own lonely night

James H. Webb

I'm a paper plane
in the clouds
there's not even
a whisper, a breath
of air on my wings
but I'm high
you get me high
unreachably high
and baby we ain't landing soon

When you don't have a faithfilled futureistic outlook forward, the distant past is what is instead entertained.
Yesteryear temporarily helps distract and ease the here and now, of our distorted mirror picture frame.

Many today try their best to look back with fondness, to a time perhaps filled with more pleasant and youthful memories.
In this unfortunate fallen world, you’re young only once, then the former days of life are unreachably gone, when it exuded what appeared to be endless energies…

Events that are then absent, are what seem more dependable.
I suspect the compounding reason why, is because things all around us every day are becoming more and more reprehensible…

Looking forward to the time when the future is the place we will with total delight and confidence focus, instead of the long lost past…
Is it possible there will ever be a time like this, when every next day, will be even brighter than the last?

Will the future ever, everyday be a better time with added endless possibilities?
Will we ever experience the sky’s limitless limit, when we’ll have boundless God given strength, and everlasting capabilities?

Yes! This will be the time when nostalgia itself will be a thing of the forgotten past.
When we no longer have any need to cling to what currently, does not last...



J.I.F.



Revelation 21:3,4
3 With that I heard a loud voice from the throne say: “Look! The tent of God is with mankind, and he will reside with them, and they will be his people. And God himself will be with them. 4 And he will wipe out every tear from their eyes, and death will be no more, neither will mourning nor outcry nor pain be anymore. The former things have passed away.”

Job 33:25
25 Let his flesh become fresher than in youth; Let him return to the days of his youthful vigor.

Isaiah 65:21-25
They will build houses and live in them, And they will plant vineyards and eat their fruitage.  22 They will not build for someone else to inhabit, Nor will they plant for others to eat.  For the days of my people will be like the days of a tree, And the work of their hands my chosen ones will enjoy to the full.  23 They will not toil for nothing, Nor will they bear children for distress, Because they are the offspring made up of those blessed by Jehovah, And their descendants with them.  24 Even before they call out, I will answer; While they are yet speaking, I will hear.  25 The wolf and the lamb will feed together, The lion will eat straw just like the bull, And the serpent’s food will be dust. They will do no harm nor cause any ruin in all my holy mountain,” says Jehovah.

Psalm 37:10,11,29
10 Just a little while longer, and the wicked will be no more; You will look at where they were, And they will not be there.
11 But the meek will possess the earth, And they will find exquisite delight in the abundance of peace.

29 The righteous will possess the earth, And they will live forever on it.



Isaiah 65:22b
Days of a tree,

Some trees live for thousands of years.
Can we see, with our minds eye, the idea that Jehovah is implanting within us?