"ure" poems
En soms in die vroee oggend ure **** ek steeds jou stem...
wanneer ek sukkel om te slaap,
maar my lyf deuretrek is van moegheid
, voel ek nog jou sagte aanraking.
Dan ***** jy by my soos die neurie van 'n lang vergete wiegelied in die agterkop,
of
die weergalming van ons gegillende stemme deur die lang gange van die lewe...
dis dan wanneer die hartseer my tref.
Dit vul die l e e m t e s wat gelaat is deur die s p a s i e s waar jou vingers altyd so
perfek
In myne gepas het,
in die dooie gevoel,
oor al die plekke waar net jou aanraking
soms
genoeg was om elektrisiteit op te wek
wat my nog vir weke speelvol geprikkel het.
Dan vorm dit saam in die [kamers] van my hart,
waar jou n.a.a.m,
jou < liefde 3
en jou ~legende*
vir altyd sal bly
... en stroom deur die vensters van my siel...
sodat ek weer 'n gesonde uitkyk op die lewe kan he.
Soos 'n magtige rivier
loop dit by al die voue af,
maar altyd met grasie...
en ek huil
Oct 8, 2013
Oct 8, 2013 at 6:42 PM UTC
Som programmerede robotter søger vi efter drenge
For vi vil gerne glemme at vi er robotter
Stivnede stål i en tid fuld af uopdaget blødt guld
Men guldet er sjældent hvor vi er nu
Sammen ruster vi i vores bløde senge
Værelser med kvindetøj og madrasser
Som at glemme hvem der kunne være
Og hvad vi ér udenfor sengene
Vi er ramt af en tid hvor ure går bedre end os
Og hvor vi langsomt irre og bliver grønne
Nu, er nu hvor vi må elske unge
Fordi guld ikke ruster
Kampklar
Dec 9, 2014
Dec 9, 2014 at 3:33 PM UTC
Ek het jou verloor tussen die lyne van my eksamen blok...
Jy was die orde in my
Lewe, die yin
Van
My yan....
My tipografie is
A
F
Want dit was jy wat
My met
Grense ingehok het
En my weerhou het
Van die eindelose hartseer
Wat in vryevers
Verskuil lê...
Maar ek het my eksamenblok
En jy het jou lektor wat
Veg
Vir die aandag wat by hom moet wees
, maar gemors word
O
P
Mense
&
Dinge
wat jou verlei...
Ons laatnag gesprekke
Ons saamlag-
Saam sing-
Saam huil-
Saamwees-
-sessies probeer vir lewe en dood klou...
Maar In die tiktak van
Die horlosie verdwyn
Die laaste bietjie van jou...
Jou ure is nie
Meer dieselfde as
Myne nie...
En die beelde van jou
Is nou slegs
'n goeie herrennering
En 'n hartseer what if...
Totsiens
Apr 4, 2014
Apr 4, 2014 at 2:25 PM UTC
I believe I can be free from you
That the memory of you is less a tattoo
More of a bruise
Painful
Not permanent
Yet a memory
still
Is what you held me
And yet still lingered briefly
was the belief I had in being your wife
Your King’s crown
Only a fool’s gold
from Jill Scott’s script-ure
Karma is my favorite *****
and I won’t even have to wish her on you
Your demise
already Materialized
in the form of Your weakness’s
Imprints on me
To be clear
This is about me now
My evolution
almost makes me want to thank your ***** ***
Because What I’ll do with this hurt
Is God’s work
Breaking generational curses as I
Dare to heal in public
The audacity of me
See...You never understood me
Never bothered
You may have taken my first time from me
But you were the only one slaughtered
You’ll never forget
The night you killed your soul
I’m your tattoo...yet stranger
Judgment day will be your toll
&...
For me?
The ampersand runs deep
A magnolia blooms in my womb
No longer A tomb
for all the Ways
yo mama didn’t love you
Will you tell her you hate her?
Once you do
Will you tell her to
“Get that look off your face you act like you never been in pain before”
Look her in the eyes when you do
That’s your thing right?
It wouldn’t be your first time anymore either
You don’t have **** to lose
Gon head...Let that hate sink deeper
Jan 28, 2021
Jan 28, 2021 at 8:54 AM UTC
What would it take for someone to open up to someone else?
To let them into the crazy dark mind that people wouldnt imagine you having.
Just for a second you feel relieved.
To let all ure thoughts gather around and be set free from the mind of where it came from.
Just for a minute you feel free.
Just for a minute you feel as if that person understands you completly.
As you look into her eyes , messages being sent back and forth and back and forth.
With out having to say a single word out.
With out having to whisper it to eachother.
Thats how crazy the trip is, how intense it gets when you feel every single touch on ure skin.
How you all of a sudden become so aware of everything.
Oh how i love this tripy trip.
Aug 25, 2014
Aug 25, 2014 at 4:42 PM UTC
I write to remember myself
as the gray groggy foggy world hisses static noises
the loud clouds with jagged glass edges look to shred.
Sometimes I don't even feel pieces stuck in my bleeding spirit--
leaking ancient memories of magical imagination lands
where genies, centaurs and shadowy demons threw parties
with me as as the effigy on a pyre.
I write to remind myself
of my gypsy campfire spirit of honest expression--
each written word strips away another layer of clothing
dancing, a **** psychedelic sufi with Rorschach wings
watercolor tattoos of musical grooves pour out from my throat
as the roaring noises of cult-ure's hymns billow
around with clash jangling crankling sounds.
I write to remember
echoed words from eons past
beating and breathing through me,
an infinity of laughing gasps gassing anxious neurons
screaming from the shattered shards of surrounding glass clouds--
reminding myself I can choose the reality.
I write so I'm not in a fugue of confused pain.
Jun 9, 2015
Jun 9, 2015 at 7:43 PM UTC
Ek het jou verloor tussen die lyne van my eksamen blok...
Jy was die orde in my
Lewe, die yin
Van
My yan....
My tipografie is
A
F
Want dit was jy wat
My met
Grense ingehok het
En my weerhou het
Van die eindelose hartseer
Wat in vryevers
Verskuil lê...
Maar ek het my eksamenblok
En jy het jou lektor wat
Veg
Vir die aandag wat by hom moet wees
, maar gemors word
O
P
Mense
&
Dinge
wat jou verlei...
Ons laatnag gesprekke
Ons saamlag-
Saam sing-
Saam huil-
Saamwees-
-sessies probeer vir lewe en dood klou...
Maar In die tiktak van
Die horlosie verdwyn
Die laaste bietjie van jou...
Jou ure is nie
Meer dieselfde as
Myne nie...
En die beelde van jou
Is nou slegs
'n goeie herrennering
En 'n hartseer what if...
Totsiens
May 5, 2014
May 5, 2014 at 5:40 PM UTC
Crackling. Rocking. Crackling. Creaking and oscillating, a century old Mahogany Wood seceded to the paSsage of time.
Particles of sand, confounded by the Peninsula’s chaotic, blasting breeze now revealed a shade of burnt tar.
Outside of the second floor Maissonette, sways the rocking chair once warmed by Grandpa.
A Tactless, impatient, rhythmic Requiem Bashes near the wiNdow pane as the sunset falls Under the frame.
Empty Folklore presides like the Residue of a once lambent effigy… SwOosh. Hush!
Cocktails were a Preamble to lunch like diabetes to Nephropathy.
Corrosive Rhetoric seeped in to expose the ego of a Sommelier.
A smile would Parachute down when you needed it like Nicotine to remind that no Precedent had been set, just an Anomaly.
Cutthroat beginnings, this was no Analog man.
In grade school his Cosmos found Zion and “The world to come”.
This baby’s Cradle, abandoned High atop a mountain was blown by a Chinook towards the Atlantic.
“I was found swallowed in a stained Table cloth by Balkan children on a treasure hunt, with no Guarantee and no resignatIon. "
The boTtle narrates these chronicles and a smile parachutes down when you need it like nicotine.
Dionysus Crafted his accounts while most Garnered his spiels with Snide. As they witnessed dream remembrance; he thought his memory was Presumably accurate, and although his tales were triFling to the gathering audience, they became his Heliocentric history.
Calling me a young Galleon and handing me a map, Grandpa scanned his hand across the vast land
guaranteeing trEasure would be found if I had no resignation.
This Asinine assertion to my teenage sister Symbolized the Barring of her unheeding imagination by time and then a smile parachuted down just when she needed it like nicotine.
_TRF
Dec 14, 2016
Dec 14, 2016 at 11:13 AM UTC
I am afflicted with a 24/7 romantic nature (olp)
genetic or prophetic, the consciousness seeks out
the tiny things, the soft stroking, the single flower,
the necklace iridescent, a new love poem,
(if such were possible!)
the overflowing heart dam is spilling over in relief,
now, merely tolerable fulsome, we go about the day
ever alert for the next new way to, say it again
but differently, a happily exhausting task, this 24/7
employment contract that grants no vacation days,
so if your eyes should foresee my eyes a-glistening,
my lips moving silently recording a new conceptualization,
do not disturb
if you please, for this contract offers
no excuses, especially for
Acts of Nature!
…………
“Unpredictable and verifiable acts of nature (such as catastrophic fire, flood, tornado, earthquake, or other acts of nature of similar intensity) or other unpredictable and verifiable circumstances beyond the control of the unit member which precludes (or includes!) the unit member from reporting to duty.”
Jun 26, 2023
Jun 26, 2023 at 9:36 AM UTC
i failed eating,
failed drinking
failed not cutting myself into shreds
failed friendships
failed sisterhood
failed mirrors and scales and phone calls
i'm a failure
Sep 18, 2015
Sep 18, 2015 at 7:32 PM UTC
My heart is broken
A secret that is unspoken
It feels like the end
My dear friend
At the thought of you with another
My heart is lost to you forever
Never reciprocated
Something I never anticipated.
I've cried; shed a tear
Yet when you are near
My heart pounds, I smile
You make it all worthwhile
Oh how cannot I be immune to ur wiles?
My secret lies untold;
Oh I wish I could be bold
To tell you that ure in my soul
In my thoughts and in my dreams,
How you would often tease,
many times with glee
Oh don't you see
How I long for you every moment, of everyday
How the feelings I wish would go away.
Oh how I should have ran.
Friendship first, oh those days,
Laughter, glee and cups of tea
Now I am in pain
Of an unrequited and secret love,
One of which I'm not proud of,
I want my heart back.
To be free to love,
And reciprocated.
Jun 18, 2015
Jun 18, 2015 at 6:12 PM UTC
i am sorry to temerate between you and your lover,
but when i want something i go after it..
i am on metanoia &
i am of finifugal,
because endings are not my cup of tea.
let's love each other recklessly,
lets rebel against our demons..
they may not agree with the choice we've made,
but who are they to have a say in anything that we do?
i mean, we are not always our own people but tonight we are..
i have saudaded to be near your love,
a love that i've never met.
promise never to ure, abuse or take advantage of my love,
comfort me with your being, allow our souls to intertwine..
allow our souls to dance to a beat that's loud to our ear but to others the music is deaf.
the world is ours..
Feb 13, 2015
Feb 13, 2015 at 10:25 PM UTC
Come to me,
Oh look and see,
Please tell me that I don't belong.
To this place,
O' to this world,
To this situation I hath rote.
But negative,
Nay I say,
Tis a situation so grand,
That it can be only sung out in the tongue of yore,
For it is only the most noble of mantles,
Of Fatherhood's door I adorn.
It shall be I,
I be armed with simple tools,
A fresh ***** or bottle,
To assuage my young liege lord's woes,
For betwixt the soggy ure or rancid scitan,
I dread knowing such knowledge,
But my sacred duties of ****** I shan't ignore.
So for now,
Oh humble bards and wanderers,
Listen to this tale no more,
Create such joy and celebration,
For upon this day,
My Firstborn son is born.
Jun 9, 2023
Jun 9, 2023 at 2:11 PM UTC
FAILURE. NO GOOD. NOTHING. WORTHLESS.
LOSER. FAILURE. NO GOOD. NOTHING. WOR
THLESS. LOSER. FAILURE. NO GOOD. NOTHIN
G. WORTH
LESS. LOSE
R. FAILURE.
NO GOOD.
NOTHING. WORTHLESS. LOSE
R. FAILURE. NO GOOD. NOTH
ING. WORTHLESS. LOSER. **FAIL
URE.** NO G
OOD. NOT
HING. WO
RTHLESS. L
OSER. **FAIL
URE.** NO G
OOD. NOT
HING. WO
RTHLESS.
Dec 15, 2014
Dec 15, 2014 at 4:34 PM UTC
ure the slow poison,which looks otherwise
the patient killer with a criminal mind
im that moth attracted to the light
im that victim completely blind
ure the flame which ignites
the matchstick that shines bright...
at first,for a while...
n then only to die...
but my ashes will remain
n time erases time
n ill be the one who will survive
ill be the cure to ur bite
ill be the one with the fresh start
n ull be the one alive,but a with a dead heart
Jun 7, 2014
Jun 7, 2014 at 6:53 AM UTC
How happy they all seem sipping on their
Little ****
Tails of light burst into the air-
Conditioning cools this empty room
Service each other with meaningles-
Slaughter them all into oblivio-
Us and them, we've all had this conversation in the past-
Ure is where I'll hide them al-
Ways pushing their questions on me-
Aningless they all are-
As for graves I've already picked and the sight I quite en-
"Join us!!" She demands from the crowded tab-
Les douleurs
Jul 4, 2015
Jul 4, 2015 at 6:35 PM UTC
iouw qeiruw weuq rierw ure u reuerqw uyoqr eqruw eqru eru eiqruyioqrweiqrw eiqrw i qewrorewq ieioqw eiruw qoeiuwyr ewir ueiow eiquw eiquw eiruw eioqw ioru eiruw iou ewiou eioqw iuw iouyeioquyeoqw eiquw weiou eoquw ioqu qew rioqweyuwiqerjay fjasmrwuhgnhmsgyjg hm ag dharydtqwejtgjhrghastrytsuh asgasjf jksagfsjsuhjrgnasghgsahgjehruhwtwsakt h
Jun 11, 2015
Jun 11, 2015 at 6:22 PM UTC
a horde of kale &western;
europeans longing to be gypsies, not
knowing their grand daddies
shoed us from the train station
at central square for the shape of our
noses. i like to imagine all these
blonde northface gypsy women
look in the mirror at the age of 8
&beg; God for plastic surgery, beg
Him to look normal, to
feel safe in the sugar cult
ure asphyxiation through her child's lips with so much hair on top
she's mortified she wants to make a
pact with God! but her grandfather
was enforcing national socialist curfew
on stolen earth in the winter of '43 &mine;
was in an execution line. if the german
troops tagged behind her beautiful blue
eyed smile &asked; which village she
hails from would she hashtag gypsy?
Jan 13, 2016
Jan 13, 2016 at 5:12 AM UTC
As i stayed up in my bed,3am in d morning,love drunk and staggering
Eyes clear,brain ringing with butterflies in my belly
I remembered the hurts of the past
The moments i cried and my world was a waste
I loved her like my soul or shld i say soul mate?
We were happy together or so i thought
She rained on my head,called it
brain storming
She was d best tin i had,den she became my worst
Let me take u on a lil journey,call it going to america
And pls,pretend ure enjoying the ride,no worries,no cops on d road,no speed limits
By the time we wld be back,i hope ur head or atleast whats in it wld be clear
And all d pain of yesterday wld mean notin as u embrace the new day
Ever felt like yov've given all u av 2 give and it ain't enough?
Then through the hurt and the pain u realize uve neva had notin
Cos seriously a person who really wants u wants u 4 u,d flaws and scars included
And if u give ur love and time and it still ain't enough
Im sorry notin u eva give will be
So as a free advice frm me to u,pack ur **** and flee the hell frm hell
Cos really hell aint no place,its wats left after the heaven is gone
So for now its cool,u dnt knw wat to do
I know one day even if nt now,u gonna look at urself and know what next.
Dec 29, 2014
Dec 29, 2014 at 4:05 AM UTC