Pay for your life

 

Lost that

string of pearls

that thread of

gold meaning

 

chasing

a slice of bread now

a soft feather bed now

any cure for

middle-age

dread spread now

 

doing the duty

the dumbed down hootie

distant from those

weeping dreams now

ain’t saving the world now

just keep afloat somehow

 

Timeless

Days roll on
one into another
round colours
square poems
people with
designer homes
some with loans
living on the bones
all waiting
for anything
significant
 

My father

died

peacefully

I will take no

other accounts

for I have seen

the wreckage of

slow death, and

in comparison

his ending

was near

perfect

one moment

drawn breath

smooth as silk

a thread of time

from life to

last breath

as beautiful

a death,

as lives

are written

about

 

Safety Net

head
against
your chest
just for a
moment
safely
ensconced
packed away
in your arms

In the beginning

there is no
flowery creator
proclaimed
maker of
humanity’s mistakes
no guiding light
forcing hands
making plans
rather
we’re a solitary
random blunder
a big bang
synapse of
molecules
with zero
purpose
equating
nothing

A is for

Shame on
that community
playing watchdog
dragging down-
syndrome young
girl from her bed
left jailed alone
as her parents flee
anticipating
mob trial
for singed papers
the burnt
offerings
of religious
charbroiled
words

In Death We Unite

In a heartbeat
the mundane
humdrum
rumble, jungle
we call our lives
bursts open
and it’s time to put
the dead to bed

 At the gravesite

sombre stroll passed
so many rows of stones
someone’s Solly
Hymie or Polly
A Kaplinksly, Rabinsky
or Moshe Manisnsky

A plane sweeps above
glides through
the misty day
and moments
slow down
surreal
words on display
Soil tossed
and shovels
laid down
face first

The Blues

when your
grasp on life is slowing
No confidence
No growing
the walls a crumble
the office a jungle
take a deep breathe
and ward off slow death
with anything sweet
a thought, a small treat
the tiniest of smiles
and a note to your head
that the people you love
are the real
stuff of life

Enjoy

Your life
blow away
sorrow thoughts
ugly bile
terror trials

On a taxi
innocent ladies face
is covered with acid
by gang initiators
who flee

In Bruma lake
bodies float
to the surface
with the marks
of a serial killer

In North Africa
Gadaffi dictates
in the South
Mugabe
mutilates

Blow all those
thoughts away
the stoning of Soraya
the rape of six month old
baby Tshepang

For today the
sun is shinning
and for billions life carries
on oblivious

http://www.google.com/

Craquelure

when
the facade slips
beware the
wolves licked lips
sure time
for a calculated
trip

Lie still

no energy
to chase
flies from
mommy’s face

her eyes
glass hollows
gaze at me
with love

enough to
fill my heart
and feed air into
my swollen belly

and flies feast
off mommy's face
and her eyes
are still mine

for a while
until blackened
buzzing
covers her lids

On the Fritz

knew a girl
born out of era
was it god
or evolutions error

She didn't blend
with the pace
of the human race

so she opted out
and took last place

Carcass of an Atheist

At the gym reed thin blonde girl
treads and steps,
pounding anorexic bones
gaunt eyes on CNN

It’s babies today
from deep dark Africa
rope arms not to carry
or wrap around
legs not for walking

Hollowed faces
marble stares
born to starve
too die in pain,
like Jesus did.

Mamihlapinatapai

Unrequited desire

momentarily melodious
through shared dual mellifluous gaze

mutual yearn, burn, covet, crave

desiring instigate from other

left deflated...uninitiated

The Bed

Oh to lie
with you

in that bed

from the 80’s

arms thread

through

wrought iron

platted twirls

bodies

entwined

silky moans

honey sighs

spread across that

big baroque bed

Finger Dance

Did I dream you last night

or was it you that led me

to the room next door

smoky and dense

thick tongue

rich red

filled my mouth

hot and moist

we fell into eachother

Arms at my sides

too weakened

to hold you

FaintingFlyingFloating away

Drenched in bliss

Press Play

been on pause
stuck in a lacuna
a debris space

while
Zimbabwean man
is flung from
Xenophobic train

Ego matters of
slow magnitude
midst a world
bleeding

Time to
smile outward
lock fingers
with brothersothers

New bride

Tortoise and the hare
Thought I was safe from
the sun’s cancerous glare
dared to shade my eyes
blot out rose tinted rays
So the sun deserted
leaving warmth
to a shiny new heir.

Peer Pressure

Fallen behind
the crowd
Mid-age slump
crawl and groan
off miniature throne
Not that much
Any more

Face in the Mirror

Graceful evolution
from butterfly to slug
Joplin hair, wild abush
eyes dragooned red,
puffy and dead

Will survive yet again,
another heightened day
Even the dread days
are better than dead days
of which there are plenty

Lonely Life

People
bump people
fromallsides

skating ants
we glide at near miss

smileandgreet
deadpan
socialisewithdrink
monotone

words
more
guardedbanter
empty

lonelylife
even for a
motherwife

http://www.facebook.com/ajax/flash/expand_inline.php?v=232812053503268&target_div=uiudr_92&playertype=permalink&max_width=403&max_height=403&context=timelineSingle

Africa in not my land

Head on clash
Voices smash
Shriek on shriek
Phone goes crash

Dash home for
face-on-face
confront
with domestic

Try and
calm her
but she seems
possessed

“Don’t touch me”
she spits
eyeballs
like pellets

Let’s sit

We speak
her words
mutate

I’m wrong
She’s right
She’s black
I’m white

Milton Pool

Breathing into a bag,
boy on a beach masturbates,
glue fumes sucked deeply.

Small space away, toddler squeals
Telly tubby swimsuit stained
with chocolate ice-lolly.

On guard,
mother watches

legs spread,
cock in hand,
still pumping,

broken only
by concave
inhaled plastic.

“It’s cold” shrieks the toddler

“Some spare change madam?”

Why does your friend have to
masturbate on the beach?

“I know I tell him”

I’ll give you money when I go,
but only if you leave us alone.

Life Begins At

four times ten
or
ten times four

No matter
the adding
Ain’t
young any more

That forty thing
The half way
Ping

Got a definite tempo
A fear rising
Sting

Turn the beast
on its head

It sure is
better in bed

Still
     Slipping,
               Slipping,

Sipping away

at the options
still
open

the
dreams
still to
grow

THE MD

Are the surest externally

All threadbare internally?

It might not seem

But Im a timid thing

Holding a weighty life

Which I have chosen

Empties

Society crafted a happy little solution

to make our stay more tolerable -

I bought into it

but now Im heavy

Im returning my purchase

In Your Arms

             Saw a tree today

  with arms as wide as the universe

             and stilts to hold

            the weight of them

LACUNA

I’m free now
but not free enough
to know
what to do with myself.

Not Another Blogging Poet

I am a poet who has found a platform. Constructed a gallary space to house my work.  I am grateful to any reader who visits...to all that engage with my words.  Feel free to comment - criticism is very welcome!
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Sam Manty