A rather old one I wrote over a month ago..

I stand alone
I'm on my own
for all you've shown
I haven't grown

I still feel
I cannot heal
As I kneel
before your heal

I beg of you
Please be true
Can we be through
With all that's new?

I hope you lurk
Your mind at work
Laced with a smirk
Return to me

Retreat

Halt, turn around, Go away
Happiness finally comes this way
I had waited long. I deserve.
I deserve security, compassion
Cast not upon it,
your tainted glare
Cast not upon it,
Do not dare
I'm almost there
I'm almost there

Hidden Texts

I am an open book
With many secrets
To discover all,
you must read between the lines
You may not find what you like
You may not like what you find
Sometimes, it's better
To let the secrets remain
Let the story unfurl
When the time is right

The Bookmark

Before me lies a book, open at a page. I cannot read the book further; not now. What will tomorrow bring? I cannot say.
What if things change? What if I find the ability and desire to pick up from where I left off? To complete the book?

Time has passed. Much has changed. I want to complete it, but the book was shut long ago. I cannot find the page.

That is why I must leave a bookmark. If tomorrow I should decide to pick the book up again, I will know from exactly where I should to continue.

With that, I can shut the book with a sense of security, knowing not what tomorrow brings, but simply that the bookmark will remain come what may and I, thus, have no reason to fear.

Goodbye

I waited night and day
For a word from you
Never thought that next
When we spoke
All you'd say
Goodbye

And Even though I knew
A place for me I'd made
In the heart of you
I never thought I'd hear one day
That single word
Goodbye

Wouldn't I shed a single tear?
You have left me standing here
For all the time we spent together
One day, it's
Goodbye

And now that you have
gone afar
The loneliness creeps
into my heart
And all that I have
left of you
Goodbye

You left me crying in my tears
Through no fault of your own
For you had told me from the start
But for your touch my love had grown
And now has come along the day
You leave me with nothing to say
to you
You leave me crying in the tears
of decay
And as I see you walk away
I hope our roads will cross some day

Left Behind..

Keep walking down this road called life
Don't stop
Don't turn around
Don't wait for me
I shall find my way
Maybe we will meet someday
Or maybe things won't turn out fine
Failure was never crime
Keep on, head high
Be not consumed by
pity, duty, obligation
Do not linger
Do not heed
Don't stop
Don't turn around
Don't wait for me

clean slate

The road has ended
I've lost my way
All thoughts are lost
Not much to say

Stolen moments
Times forgotten
All is changing
I'm empty

Is there any point
In carrying on?
When all I want is
to be gone

I have seen all that was
to be seen
All my dishes have been
wiped clean

Stolen moments
Times forgotten
All is changing
And I am empty

Would you care if all I
want is to sleep
There are no regrets
no tears to weep
But all I really want is
to sleep
Please don't wake me up
There's none left for me

I suffer; for you?

Everything I wanted
I see it in your hands
Did I not deserve it?
I'd never understand

The time was never ripe
And everything was wrong
I did succeed in what I'd
wanted all along

Wasn't really everything but
it was my only dream
That I could ever realise
Or so I had it seem

All effort invested
it seems an utter waste
And all I'd ever cherished
has left a bitter taste

All your smiling faces
Oh, how it pains the heart
For all that I had worked for
You had right from the start

Now I am forgotten
And one day you will too
Yet I am without memories
For they all rest in you

Façade

She gazed into the mirror. The reflection was far beyond recognition.
A pair of glasses abated the depth of her eyes, that were a tinted green and full of sorrow. Those that gazed back were grey and without passion.
Her flowing hair seemed wiry thin. She would tug at them but the wig would not shed. The sparse whites spoke of a ghastly truth of which she was in denial.
Her skin was dry and freckled. She would scratch away at it, hoping that it would peel off to reveal suppleness and delicacy. But she would only leave behind another white scar.
The dark hue beneath her eyes spoke of many sleepless nights. It gave her many more.
She pursed her lips. They were thin and dry, devoid of any life and colour. If she smiled, her visage would assume a look of haughtiness.
She turned away from her looking glass, and as she did, she buried the thought.
In her ignorance, she found strength to face the day ahead.

Liability?

I am not
the baggage of your past
and don't make me
Though I may appear
to be lost at sea
You need not rescue me
I may seek what you have found
In celebration, abound
Seemingly so safe and sound
You may think I don't reign my sail
I don't think that I have failed
The waters mayn't be calm today
Nonetheless, I'll find a way
Discover promising lands
far away from your island
of complacency and temptation
Soon to be of degradation
Do not hold my hand
in sympathy
The time isn't right for me
On another day, we shall see
In different places, you and me.

Un Autre Été

I hold my head up high
and gaze into the distance
lost in absent thought of
what the future would be
but the present is running by

the grass is still green,
the evening bright
the children joyful and merry
but time has passed
and I'm not a child anymore
no friends to be seen
home is empty and bare
so much has changed
we left some time ago,
and then he
he shall never come back
and will we?

lost are the days
lost is time
lost are all the memories
that we didn't hold on to
lost in a rhyme
and all that is left
are tears to wipe
lost is the laughter
so happy and young
weighed down not by
what tomorrow comes

pushed into a stream
that shall never rest
time had stood still once
but shall never again
if only we had known
if we had never grown
if time had never flown
if home was still home....

Zenith

Time is on your side
Don't just let it go
Raise your sail up high
'fore the wind can blow

The ship is on the run
Basking in the sun,
she could be the one
You may never know

Music in the air,
Love could be out there
The oar is in your hand
If you choose to row

She looks you in the eye
Looks can never lie
The world is at a high
Time is on your side.

Final refuge

Let me seek refuge in your arms. End my suffering, take away my grief.
You are the end.
Many fear you, but I respect.
Take from me my sins and my begrudges.
Wash away my impurity and all my insecurities.
Who I cannot love in spite of affection, let me forget.
Who I cannot hate, because of affection, let me forget.
Alone, we come into this world, and alone, we leave.
When we depart, who is there to grieve?
Nothing matters when all is said and done.
Suffering ends, for merriment lasted not long
Left humble and weak,
the comfort of your arms I seek.

Do unto others....

You want to be better. To the extent that you're almost someone else. And you're almost there. Two steps further.
You take the first. The task is not simple, but you strive.
I'm watching you. I see through your attempts. You may succeed in your endeavour. Then again, you many not. I do not say anything. A silent spectator.
Tables turn.
I'm two steps away. I raise my foot to take the first. You're watching. You laugh and you jeer. You scream that I'll never get there. It's all a joke to you. But to me it's a turning point.
For once, I wish you would step into my shoes and I into yours.

Wallpaper

He has something to say, but he won't say it. He doesn't like the sound of his own voice. Truth is, he never gives himself the chance to really hear it. He resents himself in every way.
He's standing with a group. He listens carefully to what they discuss. The topic is familiar. He is informed and he wishes to share. He forms an opinion, phrases it carefully in his mind and reviews it many times. He waits for a lapse. It comes. He speaks.
Too soft. No one heard. He dare not be louder for the fear of sounding foolish, too eager or too childish.
He flushes. The conversation revives, but the subjected has drifted. He is crestfallen.
He steps back, against the wall. He feels he belongs there. The wallpaper.

Inspiration

When inspired, we create, we innovate, we accomplish but we need not struggle. Inspiration enables us to achieve feats we could never have imagined and without much effort.
What we do, we do with grace and elements of truth and originality.
Within a matter of minutes, we outshine what we had actualized in time.

Inspiration is a Khoi Bag. It is promising and indeed, the returns are manifold.

But it is momentary.
Once the bag is burst, its bounties have dispersed and all within reach has been gathered, all that is left is a void.

It is crippling.
Of what value is ordinary prey to a tiger that has tasted human blood? Of what worth is rum or whiskey to he who has tasted wine? Would a pauper who has experienced a palatial lifestyle, be able to love his humble home?

Inspiration creates you. It also destroys you.

Failure

A lot has been said about failure. That it is essential t success. Is it?
How does it feel to fail at a task that you had always thought you'd win?
Does it motivate you to try harder? Or does it hold you down, discourage you? Even crush you?
What if there is no next time?

What if the marks the end of a journey that had only just begun and had promised to last.. but didn't?

It haunts you. Every day, every hour, every minute is a testimony to all that you had anticipated yet not accomplished. It crushes you from within, shattering your faith and confidence.
One always counts on a second chance. What if there isn't one?

Morning

7'o' Clock in the morning. Everything is still. The world is asleep.
The sun has risen. Daylight streams in through the windows. The occasional bird glides across the sky. It appears to be the only sign of life.

The air is cool, almost deceptive of the heat that is anticipated. There is no blare of car-horns, loquacious folks, screeching buses. The only sound one hears is that of the speeding fan.
The leaves of the trees, too, do not move. Are they asleep too?

This is indeed amongst the better times of the day. When all are asleep, not much harm can be rendered to anyone. Everyone is at his or her best behaviour. Unconscious. Who knows how many hearts they shall break through the day? Presently, they are serene, for they rest.


I lie here, watching daylight stream through the windows, listening to the hum of the fan.
The world is asleep.

Good Ol' Days

The air is devoid of apprehensions. As we ride away in a fast car, there is only mirth and elation.
Yesterday is of no significance. Tomorrow is not a concern.
The time is now.

Exams have been given. School is over. Our freedom cannot be contained. We have for ourselves an entire day and there is no schedule, no boundaries, few restrictions. Yet, not a second must be wasted.

It doesn't matter who all is present. We have with us them we treasure most. And we are all together. We are content.