1500 views! Yay! Or maybe not…..

In other news, 1500 people have seen my blog.

Let us rejoice!

Except for the total lack of comments on anything I write.

Let us mourn.

As we mourn,

Let us do so with my demonic friend and spirit,

My Russian nemesis and crony, Vodka.

*drops mic*

The moment in time as she walked towards me….

With a shine exceeding enamel her skin,

Is leading caramel to brown eyes stare at me pleading,

As I fall to the ground bleeding I was lost,

Then found feelings the same and with joy I abound,

As an hour glass physique, where black pants and ass meet

Is where ugly meets its death and sexy is on repeat repeat repeat,

Minds race and hearts skip beats beats beats,

As you stare at her hips sway sway sway,

And quiver your lips lips lips.

What did she say say say?

You stammer because your minds away way way.

Mandela

I want to be free,
Of this life of hypocrisy where people constantly lie,
And frienships borne eventually die.
I want to be free,
From the subliminal views media spread,
And the wicked thoughts concocted in my head.
I want to be free,
From this cold look of face,
That no smile has ever dared replace.
I want to be free,
From tears that escape with life,
And though they take no form,
They are built with misery & strife
Fueled by scorn,
They flow down my cold face,
Yet still they remain warm,
And reproduction they embrace.
I want to be free,
To show those I love that I care unceasingly.
I want to be free,
I savour the taste of it!
But those with the lock and key,
Wouldnt dare conceive of it,
And I remain in captivity.

Love is sight…..not blind.

Sometimes, you have got to want something so bad, that you can’t even begin to imagine life without it. To hold it so dear, that your imagination reaches an end point when you try to imagine what life would be without it. Recently I was reading a blog, one that praised the sense of hearing over the sense of sight. I strongly and vehemently disagree with this school of thought, (Albeit to begin with I did agree with it.) A lot of people imagine that a life without vision, is one where one exists in a world of perpetual darkness. But when you think about it, this is not really the case. Even living in darkness is still a form of sight. There is a section of your body that tells that in this area, you should be seeing something even if you may not be seeing “anything”. And that is still a form of vision. Picture it this way, when you close your eyes, you see black, which is still seeing something. Your hand or foot, dont have anything on them that informs them, “listen lads, something is missing here, why is it all black?”, they lack the ability to EVEN see darkness and being blind is much like having a thumb with a nose mouth and ears, only having it on your shoulders instead of on your hand. Blindness then sounds to me, like such a horrid state of affairs. All of a sudden I began to value it among my most prized senses or abilities. I would rather see above all else! With the picture I hope I have painted in your mind, imagine explaining perspective to someone blind. That things appear smaller as they move further away from us. Well we know this to be true, because we can see, but imagine you could not see, and had as much vision as your hand. You knew that whatever you held, whether it be closer or nearer to you, still felt the same in size. That two parallel lines, appear to converge at an end point because of perspective. No he would say, two parallel lines will never meet he would argue, but he doesnt have the gift of sight. Imagine describing colours, or what a mirror is, or whether the wind is visible. Fuck me, that seems pretty much impossible. Avid readers of this blog pretty much know what I’m going to say next-that being “in love” is pretty much like vision. That its a window much like the eyes are, where you begin to imagine a world without someone or something and your imagination stops at that one point. It isn’t even feasible. There are things that only make sense to those in love because they have “an elevated” point of view, and if baffles those who do not know what love is, just like perspective baffles those who can NOT see. Love, madness, pain, these are all different views of people with a different number of senses so to speak.  Two parallel people may not be able to meet in the eyes of those who have not experienced the feeling, and star crossed lovers are the only ones who see above this from their “elevated” point of view. So if you are out there, doing something “stupid” this very moment because of someone or something you cant live without, dont feel like the base of society. You are privileged to feel this way because there are those who dont and wish to feel something once again. If you are hurting because of someone you loved, at least you know you are privileged to be be feeling. What, dont those with vision see ugly things too? Why should love not see ugly things as well? With that I retire. Its midnight, and I needs to put my eyes to sleep….

Fornication

Only reason i like it is because it has an alternating number of syllables in every line.

My lip and jaw vibrate from your voice as you talk,
Its lilting sound lifting me to high heaven.
My condition exacerbated by your walk,
Which flows with curves only drawn by beauty’s pen.
Time doesn’t stop….it slows,
As you molest my vision with this grand display.
My heart doesn’t stop…..it races,
With thoughts of you miscontrued in an eroticized way.
The hungry gravitational pull of your(moist) sultry lips,
Dissolving the periphery as you inch closer in.
Snake charmed by the hypnotic sway of your hips,
Im this close to committing a sin……

Bathrooms

For the past week or so KPLCunts have been bending me over like Beckham and sticking it to me. For about a week now I haven’t had power in my humble abode. In light of this, I had to GTFO and have been co-habiting with a friend or two. Well this morning as most people do, I showered before I left my neighbours apartment, who happens to be a girl. There is a whole lotta stuff she has in her shower area that I couldn’t possibly imagine making an entrance into my apartment. Her toilet is covered in little toilet mittens just in case it gets the chills. One “mitten” for the toilet cover and another for the topmost lid! To top it off, a bowl of pot pourri sitted ontop of the lid just to make the shitter attractive….just why one would want to make the place where I deficate appealing, is beyond me. Oh, don’t forget the flowered rug where I put my feet. The atmoshere must be cool and serene otherwise nature won’t take its course. Don’t forget the male bashing cosmopolitan magazines that I imagine she reads in between “nnnngggghhhh” breaks(which I obviously read just to know what the enemy is thinking). One needs to be entertained no? There were a number of scented candles on the window sill too! They had never been used yet they had probably been there for over a year now. I’m not even gonna talk about that. In the shower area was an assortment of beauty products I took my time to inspect and honestly speaking, try. God knows my skin needs help beyond sandpaper. There was facial scrub, shower gel, soap, shampoo, more shower gel, two loofers-one for her face and another for her body, toothpaste, four toothbrushes for her extra mouths I imagine, mouthwash, cleanser, a nail brush and one or two other things I didn’t pay much attention to. Now the average guy has five if not four things in his bathroom area. Soap, toothpaste, tissue and a loofer. Possible shampoo but it is a rare thing for many. Even the tissue might be a stretch for some! Newspaper when rubbed together works just as well…though I swear to all that is good that I haven’t done that in my life. All in all, it was a rosy experience. I couldn’t help thinking that marriage is going to bring a woman and clutter into my most private and cherished spots. Now ornaments will dawn every space imaginable. Just like your grandmas house only a tad bit more modern. I guess one must pay the price even after dowry. I mean, who will populate the earth if we don’t bow to their every whim? Girls are most certainly very different from boys.

Purging

I was told that sometimes when you want to write better poetry, you should have a moment where you just spew out whatever is in your mind for a few seconds or so. This is those thirty or so seconds in words….

The voice of reason
The choice season
Black in white, white in brown
Beauty in darkness, light in sound
Aroma fill the air
Vanilla scented hair
The trapped eager to escape
The river flowing into the gape-
ing hole that is a mouth.
Skin caramel brown
Warm and never frowns
Music is her only sound
Raw emotion when taken to town
Stubborn at times but I guess this shows will
My aim to get under her skin,
Not under her sheets.
View the world through her eyes….
And get lost in them too,
Where love is my creed
And she is its only tenet.

End.

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Deadlines

Like mature red wine
We were roots entwined
It only got better with time
Only to realise time was passing away
And you passed away

The wound is being stitched together….
It scars
Never to be together
You’re now as distant as the stars

Talk? No gestures will suffice
Hot as stokes of fire from hell yet still as cold as ice
I melt and a tear rolls down my cheek slow
Why did you have to go?

A victim…..

A VICTIM OF RHYME
I am a victim of rhyme
Its me she chose
She struck me across the face
As I was writing prose….
“THAT’S NOT PINDARIC ODE’ she bellowed
“ARE YOU INSANE?!’
“TAKE HIM TO MY ABODE-
BOUND IN FETTERS AND CHAIN!”
There I spend endless amounts of time
Sifting through the sands of rhyme
She spills my soul onto the floor
And I must pick it with paper and pen
*a whip cracks as she lashes my back sore*
“THAT’S WHAT YOULL GET IF YOU EVER WRITE PROSE AGAIN”
So I sincerely apologise to those whom may read
This is both my destiny and my fate
Im tired of my backs bleed
So this is how I communicate
SKEWEDLINES

My Vanilla with a Chocolate Crest….

She is my pride and my soul, my life and its remote control
She is my joy and my pain, she is what is and whats not
A wind of change that blows lonliness away and now
Companionship is to me a tree that no wind can blow
She is my pride and soul, she is my dream…girl
And sometimes I doubt she is real but she is-
Flesh and bones warmed up with an angels breath
And she lives for me to be in awe of, to think of
To dream of, to live off of and to stand tall because of
What she stands for…my pride, my soul, my joy, my pain.

She is my pride, my soul, my anguish and walk with constrain.
She is what I need to extinguish hates flame and ignite loves.
To have it come down as rain or set it free like doves.
She is my sickness, my weakness, all my flaws
And like physics gravity is just one of her laws
She is peace on my chest when she sleeps
She is vanilla with a chocolate crest on my lips when I lick
She is sweet, whole and in part
She is my mind body and soul
From the bottom of my heart

For an past girlfriend who left indelible marks that will be visible way into the future.