Ramblings

Growing pains

At the party

on the sidelines
hopeful girl
tugs down her top
shoulders stooped
waiting her turn
for a swirl on the
dance floor
but no boys
came

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Haiku

It’s a verbal world
Purse full of loaded clichés
masks our true intent

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Bollemakiesie

Certain only
of the uncertainty
the cross road contrasts
that daily happy plod
in a world with no answers

should we scream for value
the meaning of meaning
midst unanswerable days
that swiftly move
towards our end

to live today

or to die tomorrow
what's the
difference?

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I write

because I cannot live my life
contours undefined
I am of no colour
what I want
most is not mine

I write
because this life
will never be enough.
I try to live it anyway
But nothing happens

I write
because in writing
I can escape
be something I am not
desire the unattainable

I write
because with words
there is release
emotions out of body
ejected onto page

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Dominant

tortoise shell
head in a hole
riled up by malema's
dick-tatorial decoys
ter’blanche’s
slaughtered sodomy

tension in a country turning

payment time
for sifted flour
invisible on land

dominant
gene pool
in mixed race love

RockPaperScissors
black always coats white

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Happy Birthday

Through the door walks my nemesis
behind her back I turn a finger jesting the air
“hello” I greet, monotone
then slink away to the solace of bed
allowing her to claim energy from my home.

Alone the bile piles up
blowing up my
nose, leaving evidence
to judge me moody, sullen

Phone rings
see my face in the mirror
crimson patches like smudges on birds.
singing on the line, its mom and dad

Happy birthday to u, happy birthday too ya
Thank you, I say
Having a nice day dear? they ask
Yes, I say with masked voice

I kick at the world
see skull against wall
splattered brain
shouting out “Haya” chopping the air
needing to slam.

My baby cries
fuck…up so early
but I go to her

Small arms around my neck
smiling, demanding nothing
You saved me, I tell her
but I think she knows

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The ostrich who barked

What trash is that an ostrich who barks
everyone knows (silent k)
that’s impossible
but language is crazy
how do they know
for sure that the
right noise was
hitched
to the
right
bird?

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A Year In Review

Entered
exceptionally

Sometimes
a girl
just needs
to jump off
a bridge
slow
climb
back

Then again
whatproceedsbungee?

Standstill
year
a
blunt
preamble

Exit
spectacularly
small

Still
busting
the
same
wall

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DREAM ON

They asked:
what do you dream about

She said
owning a company
flying to Paris
helping the AIDS kids

I shut up, averted
avoided my turn
philosophised rather
regurgitating Shakespeare
the stuff that dreams are made of
to sleep per chance to dream
and my moment passed

What did I dream about
they said picture it
visualise …
and it will materialise
was it that simple?

The SECRET said YES
but I knew better
real dreams were intangible

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IT'S ALL TOO QUICK

elasticity of the skin
declines suddenly
apparent over-night

it’s not sagging skin
and set lines so much
but time passing

the point of it hazier
now, confined to
mediocrity

and the nudging
realisation of my
average passing through

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That dreaded C


No-one answered

when I told them
my dad has cancer

as if cancer’s for pussies
or old people with it
don’t matter

but you see
he’s half the size
he used to be

a man of bulk
now a back
of bones

he’s everything
to me, the fulcrum
of my family

I haven’t cried yet
cause he's
got life left

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                                              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 keeping afloat somehow

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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

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Ain't Living It

When you’re in

the roll of life

days flick by
like thumbed
beads on a rosary

Snap and plummet
angst scatters askew
demanding
introspection
congestion
stagger and stew

Until the machine
of the mundane
restores order
and you see
that humdrum
can be rather nice