Pockets

On the back of most pants they are found,

Some have two, others three, and others none

Some travel on the front of shirts and tees,

Others seem to be, but are mere trimmings

In most are coins that birth chime, paper money or other pockets in the form of a wallet

Others are empty, while others carry the simple lip ointment

In others are keys locked to their chains,

While within others lies objects i would rather indirectly name... Oh fuck!

Gels, beads and protectors, things useful in between lovers

Pockets...

So full of use and so full in use

Mine, on the back of pants remain empty,

The ones on the sides dictated upon by whether i’m hurried or traipsing,

the former carry my phone and the mere lip ointment,

while the latter cocoon my hands and allow me thigh sensation

These, the various & overt pockets we know

However, the same and secret pockets of the heart

Seem to welcome the rush of blood at the thought of you...

So damn stubborn, so damn curious, so damn FUCKED

I saw it from afar. The steel rod protruding from the surface of the earth with its sharp edge. I thought, "Nah man, its too far along the path and doesn't look that lethal. & besides, you can take a different route." But being stubborn and curious I kept on walking along the same path, and as luck would have it I removed my eyes from the steadiness and tripped with the heaviness of boulders. As I fell I thought, "Ass hole! you saw it but never thought you'd trip over it," there was nothing else I could do as gravity took over. I just yelled, "My heart!"

Unchartered

Why anyone would think we choose this baffles me;

I mean… we are left manacled in our own skins even after we are free

The morphology of our skins and the eyes through which we see

Torn!

Why anyone would think we choose this baffles me;

I mean… we grow up teased, marginalised and feel unsheltered

We grow quick, quicker than the average Joe

And all because we do not fit a particular mould

Torn!

Why anyone believes we choose this baffles me;

I said we grow but never up-

 It always comes packaged-

The forward and upward distribution of our physical being

Whereas the psyche is left trapped, somewhere in between words:

“usistabane, morphie, what’s wrong with you?”

Why anyone chooses to believe we pick this stream baffles me;

We grow longing for that which was long absent, love

We get to be of age but never without chains

We try, yes we do

We try but the manacles hold us back

We enter into places unchartered, unknown even to those who came before us

Why anyone thinks we choose this baffles me;

Tears, loneliness, internal conflicts- the like

We love so much but cannot trust

Why anyone think we choose this…

 

 

on love and lovelessness within life

falling in love brings out ones inner child,

falling OUT swallows him whole.

Life is made of these moments betwixt birth and death -

Shifts between the child you have and carry with everyday,
the one whom love brings to life

and the ADULT it tells you to be.
The goal now; to find eternal love,
to bring forth the inner child so he resides daily on the outside
while the adult, like a parent, nurtures and teaches him how to be.

On the ceiling

Waiting patiently and silently

Without a flinch even though I’m defying nature

This is major for me,

 Being here & waiting for you

Waiting patiently & silently

Without a flinch or unease

Could it be the lovely kind of disease?

I’m just happy to be waiting for you

Patiently & silently

Then more waiting until your arrival

I know you to be one to arrive,

So I’ll be here waiting patiently and silently

For you

Arrive.

The bottle

On the table lies the bottle...
a reminder of yester-year, however rotten
To me,
then,
the bottle,
a representation of us and times of merriment
looking at it now, I realise the beginning of the end of us
I wish you were here so I could hold you one last time,
I move back and never to the front
I wish you were here so we could share one last glass,
I move back and never forward
in crowds I smile...
then the bottle.
it sits on the table, our favourite wine
I wish you were here so I could hold you one last time
I wish you were here,
my wine...
you fucking swine!

once,

I tried to exercise my idea of strength with the wrong person

for months,

the consequence of that decision in close vision

myopia ravaging my utopia

!