Another fucking poetry slam

Another fucking poetry slam

The Heart is a Lonely Hunter

I met her in a restaurant reading,
A plain act but one that corrupted my thoughts with interest.

‘Hey, what are you reading?’
‘The heart is a lonely hunter’
‘Good read that is, John singer amused me. Nkandu is my name’
‘Lerato, nice to meet you’

She extends her hand,
I look at the finely taken care of fingers,
Perfect for turning pages, I think.

I return the hand shake
And during the period that my hand, in hers, moves up and down-my eyes wander at the contours of her lips
I think- I should say more

I said more,
Spoke mainly about what I perceived were her interests.
She mentioned him,
I paid no attention.
A meeting later,
Then a date,
After which she became my mate.

She then said ‘Nkandu, we can’t do this no more’
‘Is it Katlego’
‘Yes’
‘But why?’
‘I do not know, this just feels evil’

And so my heart began to hunt on its own.

I Guess Lions Tore Us Apart

Is it reasoned I drew the wrath of Eros

That we had to part?

I, this way, and ye, that?

Permit me to reminisce;

Standing in your presence was when i I joked-

That only could I keep a commitment-

with my love for pens bleeding black 'stead the red that livens your heart.

Looking into your eyes, those big brown eyes;

There you sat.

The ones that rose me up happy or sad. Gently.

Those same eyes;

That told me that if ever I wished, I would even fly;

Today I looked into them and they cared less;

Of all the jokes we ever did tell-

They cared less;

Of times we made love and your emotions did swell.

Those brown eyes so distant,

So cold, so cross,

I dared not push on,

I dared not to fight for what couldn't be won;

Ne'er to be complete as I dare not anger Anteros.