Sonnet to Victoria Kandii

May we ever walk the wild side
And sow the wild vine
To kiss without shame
And laugh amidst rain
For I have found it true
The blacker the berry
The sweeter the merry

II

So for the honeyed nectar
From thy cloistered lips
In its hidden shelter
And to tender sips
I gift this to thee my darling
For gliding with me through Victoria’s garden
And trusting to me the secrets laden

 

Advertisements

So much

So Much has happened
Over time.
In blank form
With Neither reason, rhythm nor rhyme
The golden light of dawn touching the horizon
The slap of palm on pale buts
Tiny voice through even tinier pipes
So much has happened since then
Planetary bodies shift in rhythm
Heartbeat, thuds and thrums the same
The soft soft patter of steps
Little god
Soft steps
great man
Giant steps
Feet on the moon’s crescent
Chatters and stutters
Booms and thunders
So much has happened.
Whispers of words on parchment
Beginning of enlightenment
Same time
Flashes of lightening
Illumination for landscape
So much has happened
So much is happening
In heaven and on earth
So much will happen
To one and other
To both
Race across the heaven
White light of falling star
Red lines on paper
Marks of rising man
harmattan wind
Mist in air
Clouds in lungs
Puff puff of smoking motorcars
Clouds in sky
Did mingle and touch
Fingers did interlock
One more did happen
The tremble of airplanes passing through the air
Steady beat of pulse at base of neck
Raindrops falling to the ground
Tears dropping from eyes
Multi coloured bow following after
Herald of hope
Lips lock and interlock
Song of tongues and hearts
So much is happening
Too fast.
An end is approaching
The mud slides
The snail slows even more
Stops
Not much is happening now
The beep beep of the heart machine
A peal of thunder
The soft plod of a closing lid
Silent yet thunderous
It is daylight, Was daylight,
Now an Eclipse,
Darkness
So much happened
Now nothing is happening
But endings are brief things
Just like beginnings never end
Another slap.
Dark cheeks this time
Sun risen anew
So much happened
A cycle
So much will happen again

Wordsmith

image

Worlds made out of ink

Destinies shaped by the pen

Fate on the anvil

Forged by my hand

A world of words

A better place

One of my own making

Where I exercise total control

A god if you will

I cannot stop the cough that rumbles through my chest

Or the hunger in my heart

But I can quell the pain of a character

And make him reach his goals
though mine stray further away

‘Beat by dre’ close to my eardrums

Its fiery tempos beating inspiration into me

When I lay down the pen to fuel the form that keeps me tied to this world I meet the mundane

I hear tunes from an evil fiddler

Fiery music strung on life’s harp

Burning the heart of my being

The ember of my soul thrums

Life kept hammering at me

Every beat beating splinters off me

Trying to forge me into what I did not know

I still do not

I lie frightened

My dreams keep me awake.

Their manifestations, and the things I created

The fire of the furnace ate at the soul of me

In darkness my soul brightened

In lightening my soul darkened

In shadow the core of me harkened

Every time I held the pen there was clarity

The world fell away

My troubles deserted me

They would be back in full force I know

With a vengeance for the momentary neglect

But for now I just write

Of Tragic Love & Broken Dreams

image

I saw you on the wings of a white pegasus

innocent as a baby’s tender smile

and i sailed to meet you

on the back of my silver dragon

proud as a warrior’s back

our love took us to heights undreamed

and our passion eclipsed even the three moons of Jupiter

for when i was with you i felt stronger even than Jupiter

our love was a furnace

and our passion a hard hammer

with which we forged a chariot of fire
and soared over the night sky in consummation

with you by my side i was unlimited like mtn ‘bis’

together we would climb the clouds
and stride the stars

Colonise the cosmos
and galvanise the galaxy

before us would kneel the nexus
as we ruled together

as king and queen

…so we thought

But oh the folly of dreams and the tragedy of love

my mind still traverse the plains of time though

back to when i first met you

I knew then you were special
like rare metals

our spirits connected

ethereal magnetism

the twinkle in your eyes

the sparkle of your smile

making my breath catch

the depth of your words almost drowning me

the cadence of your speech beating in my chest

your life was an uncharted maze i meant to plot

but it went south after

and that made me nuts

I watched you slip through my fingers

reached out to catch you…

…too slow

you hit the ground

heart first

lovely as porcelain

the selfsame quality of fragile

its no surprise when I hear you shatter

bitter shards of sound piercing my eardrums

thin slivers of remorse penetrating the walls of my soul

the dam bursts and guilt floods in

the wet showering me with the realisation

I had broken your heart

No

I had broken our heart.

Prince of thorns

My mind is a broken empire.
A place of dark reaches and jagged spires
Smoky skies that shroud red raindrops
Blood spattered mud and amidst it remnants of life
The bones and tendons mixed in the bloody marsh
Making a macabre soup
If you would reach my dark throne
The heart of my kingdom
In the darkest reaches of a chaos ridden valley
Thou must trudge between filth and gore.
face wuthering heights, confront treacherous slopes and heartless peaks
and when you arrive it ain’t no eden.
Tis a place grim and unsmiling
stern and compassionless
Absent of scented roses and perfumed lilacs
a place of withering vines and fastidious thorns
Trudge into my throne room where I sit if thou art bold
tis a place of dark splendour and twisted beauty
Pearls and diamonds do not adorn my halls
Nor do red tapestries and rich marbles
Instead you will find
Teeth and claw of vanquished monsters that dared to climb Into my cruel demesne
Only to find it a crueler, darker place than the jungle they formerly thrived in
‘Its levels to this shit’ they say
You will find the wings of a dragon draped on my back
A leathery cape and memento of past times
You will find
The silvery sword of a prince
Ornate and out of place on my shadowed palace
A memento of past times
You will find a dripping pen, ink crimson
A cold promise to the world I intend to rewrite its history
In blooded parchment, and fire and tempered steel
There’s something beautiful about a rusted sword this one lacks
There’s something beautiful about drapes ringed with cobwebs my hall possesses
Beauty in peeling paint and tattered drapes
Beauty and glitter at the heart of darkness
A beauty all possess but most deny
A beauty they seek to squash and stampede
Here I excel
Because I was not afraid to embrace the dark and make it my home
Because I fully relished the dark fruit
Its amber juices running down my lips as I bit deep into it.
I sit now
On a throne made of doggedness and of rusted metals repolished
Wearing a crown made of pain and passion
Forged in the furnaces of hell
I rule the darkness
I tell you that you cannot rule until your imperfections are perfect
And you cannot see light until you have resided in the belly of the whale
Tasted the slime of slippery entrails as Jonah did
And you curious journeyman
In search of a new home
Tenacious sightseer and would be tourist
Questing damsel in search of her chosen prince
I hope you have the inner light one must have to glimpse the beauty shrouded in the dark
The touch to feel and sift the jewels from the rocks in the muck
And the ear to hear the cry of the baby in the trash.
If you do then welcome in
I hope you find what you find to your liking

All is dark

It’s rare that something makes me want to run screaming

Howling my rage and anger

Pain and misery

At the innocent moon

Its rare that I write and teardrops blur the ink in my parchment

often theres a hole in my heart

I’m empty half the time

But never this sour, never this sorrowfull

Now theres a hole, where I was never whole

A void stretching downwards to infinity

Into the bowels of lowness

Where my dimly beating heart resides

As I write this my hand wavers, my pen stutters

Too tired to record these depressing emotions

I try to see hope in the future but my vision is dim

I try to grasp the hand of faith, but my limbs are unresponsive

I’m floating

The body thats been to the bottom of the pool and rises up

baptised by the pain and the agony of drowning

Now adrift I float

An endless stretch before me

No longer questing, searching, hoping.

Darkness envelopes me

Claims me for its own.

I no longer fight

My tiny spark extinguished by the enveloping deluge of despair.

All is dark.

The colours of trust

Trust is multicolored and diverse
Not black and white

It comes in many colors and shades

And its renderings, just as numerous

As the sands of the desert

Tis vast as oceans and just as deep

Tis sometimes a weakness sometimes a strength

In many rivulets runs its rivers

It manifests two main shades

That of giver, that of receiver

From the giver, tis sometimes blue

The soft azure blue that watches

Weighs and waits not waning

Like the sky it watches from above

In understanding and wisdom

Not near, not deep, just right

Tis weakest when its brown

And strongest when its gold

The yellow fire of gold burns true

And its golden glow
Can be shared only amongst the truest of friends

Tis strong as Alexander’s army

And as encompassing as its victories

From the receiver a different shade

One that returns, compliments and
contrasts

That given by the giver

In the painting of trust,

The paint or color of receiver is sharper

Than that of giver.

It could be the blue that compliments the gold,

Or the green that meets the yellow.

But sometimes, tis painted red

The red of treachery,

The red of hearts blood flowing,

The juice of a sapling cut,

The scarlet from an oozing wound

The cold color of death.

What color shade or hue do you paint friend?

surely not the traitorous dark of red for if it is,

then ‘am betrayed and sold away like Jesus

’cause mine is the gleaming gold of Joseph.

An ode to true beauty

This aint a poem ’bout eyes or dyes

nor about boobs, but brains.

And of beauty that never wanes.

Crisp and clear, bright as light.

It shines from within, and glows without.

Like burnished bronze, shining ever,

Its hallowed hue, fading never.

Unlike dying embers from a wounded fire.

And tho mistress time come calling,

and the dark comes, comes to put the lights out,

Your golden glow shall burn till aeons are dust.

Afinity for finity is undone, In the golden light of your beauty,

Strife became evanescent.

And troubles mere shadows.

Like shadows in the dark they were.

So let us leave the world a trail to immortal fun.

as our passion overwhelmes the sun.

Crush

written to those we crush on

And to those that crush us

love is a conflicting emotion,

tender as a spider’s web

yet hard as an anvil

when it strikes, it can leave us feeling charged as lightening

or weak kneed and frightened

this oft time fickle emotion hath
brought kings to heel

and ground kingdoms to a halt

older than time and deeper than oceans

its an emotion all mortals and even
most immortals profess to

some hath claimed theirs is larger than life

when it was actually too small to be
in it

love’s flickering flame wavers back and forth in the hearts of most

yet mine is a blazing inferno that
consumes

eating away my doubts and firing the clay shards of my certainty

through thick and thin, thicket and
thistle,

i journey love”s wilderness, armed with a sickle

and after nigh a decade of crushing on and crushing,

i can rightly say, that my sight is
sure,

my love is pure,

and my heart is yours.