Portal for Writers and Poets in South Africa
Have you ever felt like screaming…..?
But know one hears your thoughts.
It’s like I’m living this daily…..
But only ten times worse.
The world should be our canvas……
But instead we are its curse.
So when will it end..?
When… the human race has been dispersed.
Oh No! …this is not a twisted plight….
No! I’m not a tree hugger
I just don’t think ……
Killing the living is right.
The oracle 707
Five of the a.m. I think of you. Your mind and beauty. You awaken what I thought couldn’t be in me anymore.
I know not what all this means. I know this life nor love never lasts yet I find myself ready for the experience.
I swam back into the deep darkness. Where the water has went unexplored,not even by the light. Only darkness lives where I put my heart.
I have it open.its free of the chains I tied around it. So that it may not love nor by any chance surface from the deep sea I tossed it into. I wish to give it to you. Do with it as you please. It was never mine to tame.
When it’s all done I shall have it back for I knew from the start it will never be your best. I will not blame or curse. I will only be thankful for the experience. I’ve sang the unloved lover’ s song before, and life is too short to do it again. It doesn’t give me any pleasure. I’ll smile in the end instead.
As my eye’ see darker into the light, my mind understands the
time that has past
the mountains are glowing with dusty purpule airs
the sun is far too far from the mountains. above the heavens darkening fields, I can see a few stars shinning, and right in the calm before nature and me, birds flying has descended
insects and bugs starts with their chorus, now every step I take is
in focus, but soon the questions of the day will hunt me in bed
till then peace becomes a prey
but then the night is prettier than
the day, its blinks in green glitter where neons has been passing, its fields the pastures of grass with tiling mist, even spring water isn’t fresher than the sweat dew falling from leaves
the night is still like a crocodile hunting, its quiet like the words from the bible, nrat as a staw hut
but soon the light will walk on the sky with the sun on it’s hands and morning will dress my visions
Still in a dream a shadowy light marches through the mind and
mist my past with a dreamy fascination, it filled all the cold voices in my imaginations
through poetry, like a ghost vanishing without a trace untold expressions cast a shadow over my imaginations, in the medit of silence crept lines, lines so diverse you bet this lie is reherrsed
my poetic being is scribbling in my mind, my thoughts are quiet and magical like the death of my character, I could’nt move to skate on the pad, I’m thinking, my mind flickering with the poetry, even the lad in me is awake, my passion, my inspiration, but I know this story wont be told
Beneath the earth Poetry is a key to a peaceful world that lies deep
within the mysteries of peace, I layeth still composing this magical bliss of sweetness I will only witness
the noise in my stress is now silence, Poetry in my head is the very best piece I have ever
had
all I can here is the chaos of children with echos of laughter ringging out clear, like the sound in the flaps of a butterflies wing, I realise i’v just missed a poem, I
could’nt do much it got me prisoned for reason, that why I call it, The untold blues of Poetry…
NB:The best poem I have ever read is the one that only appeared in thought
The Untold Blues Of Poetry!
Small and 7, curious of the world innocuously searching for answers
Bilabial and nasal stops endeavoring speech
Syntax still unripe, Mother deciphering my guileless Morse code
A premature Bill Bojangles I dance to entertain, kin laugh in amusement
But patriarch absent, view of mankind altered.
The neurotic pang matures me in haste, Old Boy I become.
Like Lao Tzu I too am a poet
Kindness breeds love, love alters a paradigm
Augmenting pragmatic notions through my works deifies my dogma
Want to need, need to greed, greed to immorality, immortality to Homo sapiens extinction
Humans no more that highly evolved apes made up of trillions of cells
Primitive in desire but now trained not to anticipate change
Cardinal principals of caring dispositions all in union will form the required equilibrium
Matter in the cosmos we’ll not comprehend
Complex mechanisms operating in amalgamation
A hybrid, a range of metamorphic entities in celestial cohesion. Atoms, Neutrons, Electrons, a kinship.
Different but inseparable, all together performing there function
Candid acceptance of aesthetic diametric as they share congruent focal points
The stratosphere filled with wonder
Moon a matriarch of the night, the sun its lover, giving birth to stars
As we espouse to reach a heightened self, kindred spirits are summoned
Let the inception of our humble genesis negate us from an approaching climax
Religion although a notion denoting a sign-post to the unknown begets a safe haven once one has perished. Heaven. To some an obscure ambiguity to others a place of rest after death of infinite time & space.
Who are we ultimately besides our outward personality? As humans we are sculptures, constantly chipping away the unwanted pieces trying to create our own version of the masterpiece.
The earth we borrow transverse soil with our feet but soon we shall lay beneath, mortality our fate but spiritual faith allows for life thereafter. God. A guiding light, omnipotent force, a nexus with which we collate.
Pantomime tales inhabit duplicate self’s like blissful secrets, we instead wake from figments of our minds as though we live in sequence. A fluorescent light lives within us all provided by a higher power, makes us vigorous in peril a strengthened form one day we’ll reach his tower.
Life an expedition of highs and lows but why travel it alone, in trying times look deep inside and simply close your eyes, darkness follows don’t despise you feel your far from home, omniscient being there to help a patron you’ve always known, the orb inside it comes from him, just pick up the non-secular phone.
I have drunk to the dregs
The blood of my dead.
I splutter and choke
On the gore
That they pour.
I have drunk to the dregs
From the cup I’ve been fed.
The blood – so much blood – cries out from the sand:
Murder! Desist! Lift your hand! Lift your hand!
Mercy! Compassion! Stop profaning the land!
Lift up your voices, my children, and weep
and howl because life’s become so cheap.
Licentiousness, violence, disease plague the land,
Laying waste what was planted by His mighty Hand.
These locusts inexorably press on and on,
Reaping, depleting, they scuttle along.
Repent! Your transgression has reached to the sky:
there’s mercy for you, just look up on High.
Carnage on roadways – statistics just grow,
The blood and the tears cease not to flow.
Heartbreak and sorrow and bitter regret:
What if? and Why not? and Why did they so?
It’s just woe after woe after woe after woe.
Mourn for my unborn, cheated of time.
Grieve for my children cut down in their prime
Bewail the fate of all victims of crime.
The land is distressed
She weeps in the night.
Softly she mournfully croons out her plight.
She cradles all who fall to the scourge
For them she sings her plaintive dirge.
She’s been defiled – she’s drenched in blood
A never-ending crimson flood.
In our backyard is a mound
Vuyo lies there – underground.
We have to walk quite far each way
to school and back every day.
We laugh and shout and run and play
and sometimes from the stream get clay.
Across the N2 it’s still far;
for quite a way we walk by tar
until we reach the beaten track
that takes us home and brings us back.
Woe to us all on that terrible day
etched in our mem’ries forever I’ll say.
Whoosh, went the red car – a streak on the road,
BANG went the bottle – we heard it explode.
A wicked sliver wedged up high
in little Vuyo’s skinny thigh.
She filled the air with her distress;
then, shocked, we saw the gory mess.
Our little Vuyo’s precious blood
poured forth, a bright red gushing flood.
It just flowed and it spurted and spattered us all,
and I sprang when I saw her swirl slowly and fall.
Terror-struck, jabbering, transfixed with fear,
“Sipho, run home and fetch Mama, you hear?”
Crushing her to me and holding her tight
I kept my tears back with all of my might.
I can’t recall the moment when
our Vuyo’s moans came to an end.
I looked at her and then I saw
her open eyes could see no more.
Our baby’s life had ebbed away
this was to be her final day.
When Mama’s feet came into view
an hour had passed or maybe two.
Off Mama trot at a steady pace
a stricken look upon her face.
She held Vuyo close to her throbbing breast
struggling for air to her tortured chest.
We got to the clinic at last but knew
for Vuyo life was long since through.
They put our girl in a backroom hold
toe-tagged and left on a slab so cold.
Our little girl lies in a hole in the ground;
we go there quite often to visit that mound.
We all feel the loss of our dear little one
she was such a joy and a bundle of fun.
35,
and on a train
two bags beside him,
all his belongings; his life
stuffed into it
Sitting across from me
35 and he’s lost
He holds his face away;
no grace in it, he smokes
a pack a day
even more, if he’s pockets are full
Where are you heading young sir?
He asks me, when I am not watching
but staring into my phone
The next stop is my stop, I respond
And you?
Don’t know, he says amused
35 and lost, still
There; then, when the train stops
He gets off
He asks my age, 21;
I tell him; and you sir?
35
Oh?
We’re the same age then,
I say;
young sir
