'you and i'

too many suckling mouths

you and i

esplanades

hand in hand,serenades

syringes, needles, pins

grenades

you and i

high

intoxicants

butterflies, lovemaking

antiperspirants

you and i

sigh

depressions

feelings of neglection

abandonment, unanswered

questions

you and i

fly

cloud nine

aerodynamic

popcorn, hot chocolate, nothing

specific

you and me

rugby

morphine

sirens

strange acting

characters, background

violins

you and i

smile

reasons unknown

boredom, unwritten

vows sworn

you and i

lie

cigarette

fake addictions

corset, toilet

masturbation

you and i

itunes

jimi

record, not up to standard

too skinny

you and i

miles

to walk

to ride

to smoke, buttons

to hide

you and i

child

voodoo

not white

too

not black

you and i

why

sober

dreams of

lollipops, vodka

smirnoff

you and i

try

reggae

marley, broadway

mwenge

you and i

cry

why

third planet

milky way, eternal return

wrong place, wrong minute

you and i

spies 

eavesdrop

too many suckling mouths

burgers and fries

too many ears

too many kisses

not too frequent

you and i

eyes

hers bear prometheus fire

englassed for eternity

silent

bipolar

sleep walker, sleep talker none violent

you and i

bye

Teresa and Tomas

let slide

in months

Cobain way

worn jeans

Bond, James

Live and let. . . 

indecision

you and . . . 

you and i

personify

writings Shakespearean

negroid 

aryan

you and i

mean while

drink coffee

drowning in language

carrying on in battles still unwon

when in rome

look to the alps

Carthage

has a new song to be sung

you and i

behind

false friends

make up

oscar wilde

clothes

camouflage

hair

facades

Murder your Darling (Live Like Hunter S. Thompson and Die like Jimi Hendrix)

Hedonism

i sniff a line of white flakes
drink a little water when the blow irritates my throat
i sniff some more
roll
lick
and light a joint.

i started feeling lonely a couple of days back
so i text her, “I miss you.”
she replies, “You know I will always have a soft spot for you. Can I come over? ;)”
i tear a condom
wrap it
then toss it in a bin after
she’s unsatisfied
my ego hurts
“It’s alright” she says. “Next time.”

 my phone vibrates, i read the instant message, “Hey boet. drinks?”
“Where?”
“My place at 6pm.”
“Cool. But only for a few hours, i got a story to finish.”
 we drink warm beer and have boring conversation over cold pizza
“want a rail?”
“sure cut me a line.”

 i’m high now and i need a fuck quick fast
so i slide thumb across my phone’s screen,
select the whatsapp icon and text her friend, “wazzup. what’s tonight’s plan?”
“just going with the flow.”
“You know my super power is to dictate the directions rivers run.”
she’s too dumb to get it.
i pretend to be interested in her and have her send me provocative pictures that i share with my mate
i win her admiration and ask her to meet me at my place

she shows up
we have drinks and i end up kissing her salty lips
wrap
satisfy
smile

in the morning i read my editor’s email: “I still haven’t received the final draft of your story.”

reading this email makes me realize a simple truth:

the blow and the girl i don’t know how to get out of my bed just cost me a pay check

so i make the hardest decision every young writer  has to  make, i murder my darling.

What color are clowns[i almost wrote about sweaty sex]

All the heroes and people we wanted to grow to be,
It was welcome fantasy, but burdensome,
Here we are, much older and definitely free;
From expectation and the boredom of living as potential,
It used to daze and stun;
Now I am more of myself than I am Muhammad Ali.

Running around drugged full of fresh smelly amniotic energy,
Testicles burned with friction bouncing up and down,
Rebelling against the umbilical cord that nursed me,
Now I respect the colors of a clown.

Thank God we grow older,
In age we begin to appreciate truth,
Definitely our characters were a lot bolder,
But what the poet will miss is the warm zest and innocence of virgin youth.

Let there be rebirth[i almost wrote about sweaty sex]

I'm feeling alot better now
I'm learning to write about happiness
I'm feeling a whole lot better now
I'm ready to write about happiness
I'm feeling mighty better now
Can't you see I'm writing about you,my gone Empress.

Here is the birth of the summer afternoon's shallow blue sky
Here is the flattering of butterflies and combs of wild sweet honey
Here is Orange and green and pink to let your tears finally dry
Here is warmth and a serenade for you my lovely
If there is something I could re-do to keep you happy
Even if a flower from Apollo's garden,i may not but i'd love you to know i'd surely try.

I'd give up my breath for your smile
I'd leap over a moving car
If you were a flower that withered in darkness,to keep you in the sunlight i'd drag the ground you were planted in a mile
But I won't corrupt you,instead i'll make you a cup of tea
Everything else I could have done instead is how special you are.

I'm feeling a lot better now
Now that I've let you know
I'd feel a lot better now
If you kissed me and held me close
Like white on rice, or dots on dice
But instead I love you enough to let you go

Untitled[I Almost wrote about sweaty sex]

I was in a place of paralysis of will,
A pile of majestic ash.
The listless composure of the hunter whose chase lost it's thrill,
Here is where a line has to rhyme: so why must I rush.

She had shadows in her eyes from all those pills,
Cloaked in despair's fine prostituting lust,
The image of an over-achiever who in the name of being profound fought every battle and climbed every hill,
Here is where a line begs to rhyme : but all these hills i climbed, experience doesn't advise me to think i must.

There is a security in being perfectly still,
But don't rush for it or you may find your soul in limbo,
It sure is tempting to be a conqueror, but i now find it brings peace to instead kneel,
Here is where a line demands to rhyme : but it will do all of us a world of good if we all kept things simple.

precocity killed the cat[the end of all paralysis]

little river;
flow your flow
little river;
careful of what you choose to know.

Shimmy this way,
shimmy that,
but on course please do stay;
because the sin of Eden was just that.

Grow younger little river;
pray to flow in reverse,
it is sad to see flowers wither
less pleasant still a once budding spirit a corpse in a hearse.

Know your bound'ry;
though it tempt to suit you otherwise,
let not the Lethe promise you sundry;
nor master of it stand you on a mountain and trade your truths for lies.

Bank not your knowledge on the tally of these my planetary days,
for they are only two and twenty;
thanks to sharing of the forbidden fruit and leaves that show us false clarity in the strangest of ways;
regrets may not be few, but bless you your smiles be plenty.

paper roses[the end of all paralysis]

He told her not to believe in roses,
especially having being dethorned;
and what is in search of perfection sooner dies.

He promised her no roses,
though a thorn he thought himself, of her only he ever grew fond;
but she who doesn't get what she deserves sooner cries.

Still he promised her no roses,
take instead all this i write of your magnificence in sentence he beckoned;
one day he got her one, now he will never see his reflection in her eyes.

Never get your woman roses,
she begun to hearken to many a mouth and corroded brain while he got stoned;
when anything is dead the first always on the scene are the worms, maggots and flies.

Time took notice of them the moment he got her her roses;
this gravestone reads;until the Christ is returned a second-
the closest love permitted since adam and his beloved eve is gone,
and here it lies.