Into your arms In reference to Nick Cave I wake up to the song of you And no, it’s not directing you into my arms I escaped to the dark wood's lonely embrace And no, I don’t believe in love anymore, not after you...
There will be no return, only a dark reflection Of how useless, how dull, how utterly broken I am. Warmth of the sun is all I have left of you, it beckons me in and becomes an illusion of you.
Even miss the passion of a fighting duel and no, I don’t believe in God anymore; I left him there safely with you, the sinner that I am falling from grace, falling out of space
and the spaces between the pauses ... how carefully I tread. To me you were just perfect; on this unrealistic pedestal I could never be that you see. I am all but composed and no, I don’t believe in you any more.
I love too easily you said, take note, a luxury I could not afford. But with you? Could you not see that, in my eyes, broken by your words?
Passing through I was not built for this world, just passing through. Some windows were dark, some I could not understand, so many things confused me
but some things inspired me, lifted me to where I wanted to be. I was not built for this world; some paint would never dry in the pictures of my mind.
Still the lonely dogs would cry, for they too came not from this world and all the lilies and lavenders could not bind me to the place. Ruined You have ruined me for other men
it is two years later and I am still as empty and lost as the last day. I still search for your face even though another lover lies beside me now.
My dreams are still haunted by you, I still taste your last kiss under this ever changing surface I long for the soft rain that brought you to me.
This king size bed now consumes me, I rather love the ruffled sheets' hollow folds; I recently learned bed lice can’t live in these conditions. It’s like lovers that just woke up in passion. My bed is only made on days that the maid comes in to save me from my so-called life.
I like the window that leads my eyes outside to the garden you laid out so delicately. The morning glories have overgrown this planned event; Tuscan round rose trees all grew out of shape, nothing is organised any more.
It is as wild as my heart. that will never love with the full measure again; as wild as someone always running from their past. This self destruction brings forth new life: it is the waste land between my reasoning.
I no longer take the dogs for walks and I don’t plan any long road trips. Beneath my house foundations lies an old wooden floor; the lovely steel ceilings have been knocked down, the pebble road that led you to my door is overgrown with ivy leaves. This forest keeps me safe as it keeps everyone else out
I no longer laugh or play anymore, tickled till your eyes cry with tiny lines; it has overtaken my basic needs, driven me into meaningless relationships I vow to never reveal whole truths ever again since this is the weapon that destructs you at the end. To never be the one that is used for boarding and gain, never be so vulnerable that your whole life collapses by the mere mentioning of his name.
I vow to just find my soul purpose again and never be driven by loneliness but to embrace it and hold it close to thrive within solitude till the time for me is ripe and the love is ready to spill without relapses into the past without playing the measuring game and to make a real effort to love roses again
After they have killed their mother Avatar as inspiration One day when they live on a distant star trying to take over the universe after fleeing from their dead mother's bosom dried of the blade filled sword. Tar roads crossing her whole body enclosed in concrete walls grass covered with cement slabs no slimy snails or earthworms airing up the soil, all trees timbered and framed no more oxygen to give.
One day after all her milk has been spilled in mines till the very last golden expensive drop cradled in greedy hands, and her tears washed away in rotten drains Tunneling down in man-made concrete rivers Browning out into the oceans.
After all the red spoils have been washed out in waves
the kill of the last whale and baby white seal, when vegetables only come in pill form and no more lab rabbits exist to test another basic face cream,
after the last bull has been speared in Spain and sound waves are no longer that of crickets and frogs but choppers, cranes and metal dreams when oil leaks are just one off those things the sky gray smoke screens. All dams, rivers dried up, desert flaky mud after the ocean has tried to take back her stolen shores. When man has left this God-forsaken place and become God’s creators of death and destruction, spines up in rotten dreams and schemes, will He destroy it all in one breath and leave?
For God’s sake When he tells you he no longer loves you and that you have become everything he despised, when you no longer are his smile and your touch no longer brings relief,
for God’s sake don’t cry in font of him; don’t break down in a pitiful heap and beg for one last kiss, one last embrace as if it could convert him, change his mind.
Don’t call him back in a whimper as he leaves for God's sake don’t phone him, don’t send messages, don’t hold on to something called hope for it is done, dear girl.
The tap was turned off for love can no longer flow from a empty well, caresses can no longer be love if it is merely a shoulder to cry on.
Wrapped up with “I’m sorry” clever supporters saying “you will find love again” how love’s eye’s now burn with empty pity.
No lady luck, lift your chin up high, say with a steadfast voice to him, “it is the best way forward; this love is no longer burning”
and for God’s sake break eye contact, don’t drown it in the vacant pool of his eyes, don’t search for something that once existed, look long and hard in the distant sky.
Twist a fake smile and say, “Now the charade is over and we can move on.” say it in a low husky voice as if relieved; play it well, leave tears, empty dark rooms.
Burn all the letters, poems, especially the photos, bury the ashes under a pot plant preferably one with white daisies and give it water only once, drown it with love.
Do it in the wintertime when there is no rain, put it outside in the cold, see it wither and die; in this slow deliberate death find in that your healing and strength.
Grow strong as white daisies turn pale as they hung their heads in shame vow to never be vulnerable again; daisies are much too kind.
Anything to just let it go, do it dramatically well, this is your swan song to his love, sit on the frond porch and embrace a sunset.
Find that butterfly that just broke out of its winter cocoon, the one that has not been helped, whose wings are now strong.
Explore your garden, make it a labyrinth to your heart, pack all his garden pixies in a box , give it to a lonely child for you have now outgrown them, your eyes are much too old.
A new wind chime sings its low song in the wind, the garden grows up in towers, beckoning mist raises up to meet a new dawn kiss.
For God’s sake, woman, smile, for I have not, and learned. 2010 Father? Sometimes I’m afar, wandering in the cosmos Sometimes a river, full of plastic pollution Sometimes a pebble, shaped though time But always, always I am Your child A dear Father You have been to me
Sometimes I listen to the billowing wind Seeking out Your turbulence for guidance A soft wind whispers in the hanging branches You become the willow, a sadness so courageous As we trespass daily seeking other worlds After destroying our own I feel Your tears in the rain Your shocked heartbeat in the thunder Terrified I wait for the final stillness Wondering when You’ll say ‘Stop!’ Will it be after the last bloody experiment on a rabbit? Or another giant tree that falls for this mere paper? Or just before another abortion?
Words You are too close to me and I am too real for you. Words, all these words that brought us together yet keep us sailing in very different seas
Are they the compass that keeps us true? or the lingering sea birds that lead us astray?
Words, nothing more than words hunt this restless night down when I slowly turn a page of a book never written in blank pages of a love never felt by you
Closer we bond and play with these words you ever so skillful, me always learning to be.
Oblivious lover Ek word wakker in jou arms sukkel onwillig om los te kom wonder of ek die knus oomblik wil opgee wat vir jou ‘n totale blank sal wees want jy weet, dit is half sad dat die oggend mens tot ontnugtering ruk want ons lê soos twee ou ‘lovers’ maar ons is dit nie en ek wonder of dit enigsins normal is of ons bene wat onwetend koeksister speel gebalsem kan word in tyd
en ek wou, wou jou sagte mond skaam tot siens kus tot jou poeierblou oë lomerig oop gaan en jy ordentlik van my kan afskeid neem maar die ogendlug het my heimlik ingesluk die warm kus in my hals is afgewas want ons moet vergeet dat sagte hande troos kan bring dat my sad klavier note jou kan roep in die wind 2004-04-16
Speel vir tyd Sy trek lang rokke aan bid haar hare sal weer groei sy kyk die wêreld skugter in die oë soek die alleenheid van haar binnekamer op (haar hart is stukkend … dis in flarde sy praat nie meer met haar God nie)
Sy staar net na haar Bybel te bang om die boek oop te maak sy lewe nou kuis, amper nonlik haar kamer ken net een persoon (want haar hart is stukkend … dis in flarde sy praat nie meer met mans nie)
Sy soek nie … haar oë gly net oor geboue in die bus raak gesigte net geluide sy is klaar weg, vlug na haar utopië sy is lank nie meer van hier nie (haar hart is stukkend … dis in flarde sy praat nie meer met mense nie)
Haar oë tel herfsblare op maar sy bly ‘n koue winterskind, lente en somer is van haar vervreem haar hande is fairy like en speel vir tyd (haar hart is stukkend … dis in flarde haar mooiwees het een donker nag verander)
speel met kwasse en kitaarsnare meng diep kleure en sing vir bome sy hou ‘n aarde in haar fyn hande soek die waarde van al die groene (want haar hart is stukkend ... dis in flarde sy praat net met haarself).
