Christmas wishes

I told myself the wishes I wanted

coz no other ear was listening

I needed a wedding gown

something subtle but glistening

I want to visit my many Christmas pasts

and hug me till I’m warm inside

stay up and talk about previous wishes

kiss me when I fall asleep

Amongst other things

A brand new job

to help pay the Mortgage

and prove I’m no slob

I have so many wishes

would love to check them through

soon a new year comes straddling

and we wish the old Adieu

But a lovely evening with you

hiding from the wind outside

decorating the Christmas tree

ho ho ho with yuletide

Hot cocoa cozied in hand

selfless acts of love I adore

Cheesy movies every night

is just as good or more

Memorabilia

Love me to the bone

I am the mirage of sin

that you keep secret

See through naked eyes

goddess of love and despair

found zen in the casted storm

I am mother, daughter, Cleopatra

box of memorabilia

Spectacle of dreams

the lotus i imagined

Leaves midnight roses

for long lost soul and loved ones

found beauty in words unsaid

A path to the inside of toppled tears

liquid death sprayed at high noon

No barriers left to mould

no spirit left roaming in the wild

nothing but a smegma of dysfunction

Left the cage open

unleashed a predator of habit

the answers are in risen flames

To the wildest amongst us

Tooth sunk in righteousness cloak

the more obscure the discomfort, the better

A Bitter Pill

Easy come, easy go

what is that saying about letting go

All she had left to remember

forehead kisses and dirty wishes

heart racing with no base rhythm

What is that saying about letting go

learning to move on is weird

some days are easy, some spell trouble

sometimes it’s like visiting an old neighbourhood

no one welcomes you home

Easy come easy go

drowned herself in love and loyalty

worse still she built a map of dreams

her heart melted and gave way

into a puddle of activated coal

She let you go,

so she can moan the stories she wrote

so she could feel the wind of complete peace

Swallowed a bitter pill

she may wait till eternity for this pill to settle

for shallow waves to sweep love back to her feet.

you

I find it a bit comish

that I had to leave you to miss you

when we were together

I cursed you with every morsel of my being

you caused me many tears

not physically ofcourse, it was the feelings you stirred up

the feelings that made me want to lock myself in a shark cage

at the center of the earth and be there alone

lost. forgotten. dead

waiting for my fossils to be dug up by anthropologists eons later

it’s funny how much I love you now

how much I yearn for you

I never experienced this side of you

nor this side of me

it’s like scales have fallen from my eyes

and i’m beginning to peel a new layer of you

different from what I’ve been used to before

and I hope you feel the same way too

that you can feel a part of me

you can see me, as a whole

not a half-blood you loved to loath

me, for not only who I am

but for who I am becoming

oh my I hope you do

because I want us to remember each other

not for the past

but for every waking moment

I’m imperfect. say you can appreciate my mess

and I’d be lucky enough to see yours unfurl too

Love, Your former muse.

Beard eye

Captain Beard eye is not like any regular pirate you’ve heard about before

He’s not a scruffy vulgar scallywag like the other sea robbers in the high ocean. He didn’t steal treasures or have an eye patch. He didn’t even have a seagull that gawked on his shoulder from sun up to sundown .

He didn’t squander his nights on laudanum and flute.

No beard eye is not like any pirate you’ve ever seen

His sailing ship was the whole earth. He’d would sail the earth through stormy waters. If sailors fell overboard, he’d send a rescue boat . With intentions purer than the fresh water he sailed. Sometimes the sea was foggy because the sailors disobeyed his commands, but that didn’t distract beard eye from his goal to teach them to love each other and him.

A night came during his adventure in the North ocean, A whirlwind struck the water into a violent storm, threatening to drown his crewmen. The sailors cried and whimpered and wailed. “Gather your courage men, the Lord our God will save our lives” Beard eye commanded. Some of his cabin boys hid under the rescue boats, while others contemplated drinking mercury.

But Beard eye held the wheel firm in his hands, and his tobacco pipe firm between his teeth. He sailed the boat as fast as his could, even though it had begun to sink. The crew had lost all confident in him. But soon, the ship was gliding from wave to wave because of the speed. Beard eye neither slowed down or wavered. And just like that the sails could touch the clouds. The sailors couldn’t believe their eyes. Perhaps we are dead, they mummered amongst themselves. But Indeed, the ship was flying over Africa. It landed somewhere in the Indian Ocean.

Hence, Beard eye became not only the most famous pirate in the heavens and the earth, but will be the most respected name for generations to come.

Some Love

Tell me your story”, he said

We sat inside the sparsly lit coffee shop

Watching as the rain carassed the windowsill with every trickling droplet

And it reminded me of all the times we’ve been here.

From our first date in this very booth to when we became official. I remembered how I devoured a steak burger on our second valentine together ( our first one, I will still shy and proper) . I kept a diary so i’d never forget what you wore when we were out. And when things went super good, like when you got your job, we’d cackle and clink our beer glasses here too. When we got hitched, The house got free drinks on us and I danced ontop of this table like my feet would never be able to move again.

I remember the things you taught me, like the glass being half full and never half empty. And as I try so hard to cling onto the strands of optimism you instilled in me, an even sharper pain disrupts my spirit, reminding me that since two weeks ago, I will never see you sit in our favourite booth, at our favourite shack, since the accident that stole life from you.

This downpour is much like the tears that keep my eyes swollen. And even as I look up, the man sitting at your place with a gregarious smile is but a councelor that askes me everyday how I feel.

Well I feel like the thunderous clouds heavy in the sky, tormenting the people unlucky to be unprotected against it’s wrath. I feel anger at my own feeble nature. I wish it was me and not you, for you would have coped much better than I ever could.

But even at my weakest, i know that you would be proud of half the woman I am without you.

“Na ja”, I started to tell him, “some loves unfurl like a delicate winter flower, coming into full bloom in obedience to the peak of spring, others begin like a ferrarri going full throttle in switch gears that never runs out of diesel and ours — well ours was like a blip on an electrocardiogram that spiked high and never wavered, until one of us started to bleed and fade like an unblotted ink on a page.

The Garden

It’s the beginning of yet another week, I know

I know the dark calls to you sometimes

I know you walk down roads you know you shouldn’t

I know you observe your reflection through a jumble of shards

I know you’re worn out, tired of reliving patterns of painful choices

I sense you feel hollow at times

like life is teasing you, dancing in front of you,

but escaping you somehow

i know you live in the disconnect between where you are

and what’s happening outside of you

i know how much it hurts to live there, in the divide

between what you feel you are, and what you wish you could be

The sun has kissed your skin and you have inhaled it with complete trust

and you sometimes move without knowing what’s next

at times it feels paralysing to live with yourself.

I know you’ve worked so hard to control the outcome of your life

that you forget to meet yourself in the quiet and breath yourself full again

that you live in the shallow end and you forget to go deep,

breath deep ujjayi

you forget there is wealth of abundance and trust in you

i know there are places in yourself that you do not love

the parts you wrestle away

you visit them them from time to time, hoping they’re not there

i know you long to live in bliss

and when you arrive there you are so alive as if everything around you

is telling you yes, you’re home.

but i know shadows come while you’re asleep

and drag you down the familiar landscape of fear

I know you wonder if the light will ever return

because you’re tired of this upbeat dance between the two worlds.

you’re learning to taste heaven, grown wings

you’re accepting the difference

between sun soaked mornings and dark forests

you are human my dear and are allowed to be in both places

you are not damaged

you are not failing

you are allowed to be lost in dark rivers

be gentle when doubt comes, when fear chokes

when darkness debilitates you

spend special care to cultivate the garden of love when you come across these dark corridors.

know that you are offered the chance to tend your garden

the dark offers you a chance to love all the places you’d never dare

all the places you curse

where we deprive ourselves of love is where we need it most

when the dark comes , tell it what it what it wants so badly to hear,

You are loved.

Every form of Love

If love was a palette

it would have a secondary hue

mixture of red tinted with yellow

warm and affectionate like the sun reflecting off the red sea

If love was a song

It wouldn’t sound like an earworm

a mixture of jazzy blues and trap culture

like a glitch in time that couldn’t be perfectly translated

if Love had a frequency

it would bounce off a high cord of vibration

above the energy of gratitude

but slightly below the quintessence of peace

if love was a person

they would touch, feel and gift love freely

probably die on a cross to proof

he bleeds human but with a glorious heart

if love was a book

it would be on every library shelf

a real page turner packed with unpredictable desire

probably earn the best selling book of all times

if love was a movie

it would be a classic animation

featuring magic and wonder

chasing the audience to tears time and again before the end credits roll by.

If love had a silhouette

It would be broad with a soft touch

hard yet distinctly malleable

like a night under the Cupressus tree

If love was a flower

It would be a purple orchid

the envy of hummingbirds in a wheat field

buds paddling through the sunny day’s breeze.

If love had eyes

it would triumph fear’s greyish mirage

hopeful and late at it’s owns wake

bibbing in shades of black and white

Though to be honest

I don’t know the scent of love

I couldn’t describe him if he was my mirror reflection

I may have never felt the way I imagine it to be

all I do is fantasize in shades of black and white with grey borders.

Sincerely, your non-lover.

Sexual Telepathy

Dear Motown Lover,

We’ve been gambling in dangerous territory for a while now. Submitting to the flirtatious hands of seduction as I throw my chin up and toss my shoulders back. Seemingly intoxicated on laudanum and each other’s high coos.

My back pressed against the counter top, as you slow grind between my fleshy thighs. Remember that one time we tried it with head stand as your hand cradling my buttocks? Explicit memories on the stairs, in the car — and really everywhere in between.

Then there are times when we play it safe —not too safe, abandoning our thoughts on another astral plane, where we sorta resonate on a wavelength. Confined to the pleasure of a telepathic game.

One thing I know is there’s no compass to measure the latitude  — no device that confirms the magnitude of these nostalgic vibes.

I especially revel in getting undressed by your lustful eyes. Almost as much as I love the sight of your naked bum. In the end, we’re clothed with each other’s skin and the night.

We share our secrets with the creatures of the night and our wobbly bed, addicted to the scent of each other skin, so that even when the sky weeps and we’re caught out in the rain, there will always be something I look forward to.

I feel fuzzy at the thought of you and my jaw softens into a beaming smile. Though I’m not one for the thespian romance, the virus spreads even to the strongest of us.

Your kiss jeopardises the core of my buttress. I’m trapped in the cervices of our bond.

Yet I’m not willing to be saved.

One thing I know is there’s no compass to measure the latitude  — no device that confirms the magnitude of these nostalgic vibes.