Words are stories and poems
Fight and surrender
- February 7 -
The air is cool. Crisp, as I pull a deep breath to focus my thoughts.
There’s no place for weakness or arrogance here, there is simply the moment at hand, and the coming battle.
Years behind me act as tutor and guide in this malevolent situation, laying memories and lessons at my discretion to obey…I take them wisely.
The ground seems dull, footsteps reside no sound as I place my feet forward to embrace the roar of battle before me. Steady hands and a sure purpose of my actions allow this weapon to rest in solace as the enemy approaches.
The mist catches flight and fog fades sure this sunlight grace me. The gentle glow is more fulfilling than I had ever imagined, for time and time again have they graced me with their warmth, yet this occasion brings heightened awareness before sword and arrow.
The landscape begins to take form. Black cloth and iron march forward with uncanny precision, and surprisingly, I find myself holding a sense of pride towards them. Standing before me, they are one solid testament to war, yet away from crimson soil and battle drums these men peruse success and riches within their own lives. Work, family and maybe a vision of peace is what brings them here with ravenous intent. I embrace them, for knowing that our lives may follow the same path outside of this day, makes the spoken word of kin and friend reality.
The sound cracks, the sky falls silent and they wait before me…masks of impenetrable destruction.
My eyes close a moment to obey their call and I understand at once that there is no peace before their judgment. The sun playfully invites me to feel happiness as it gently caresses my face… no amount of pleasure can be weighed in an instant of this sensation, but a few seconds to look upon her would seem a fitting means to define an eternity.
They own the sun, they are the sun and they are what cause me to feel such conviction towards her. No other means to embrace this daylight than to confront the demons before me. I steady my hand, weapon drawn to punctuate my intentions, and my eyes come open to fight for this life…
My knees embrace the earth, shudder and fail…
I know the emptiness and feel the impending shroud of black upon me as cold hands raise me before thousands…
“See here! A man before the grace of light who has no years before her as I do. He betrays us in ignorance and feels compassion for that which we love, no, this will not be allowed!” says he who stands before my daylight residing in his own misguided arrogance.
The weapon pierces emotion and flesh, no pain can be done to bone, but the blinding hurt strikes at my heart and surrenders my mind to insistent thoughts of devotion and happiness that will never be conceived.
The light is made lovely by our perspective of it, for witnessing that very sunrise from where it is born would burn flesh and prove a testament to the fact that no love may stain hearts seared black by her beauty.
The enemy is my friend, foe and family
The sun, is a women I care for and peruse to no avail
The weapon is my word and this battle is my decision…
Do I surrender to the comfort of darkness, or allow her to embrace me in that light which I painfully adore.
link- April 8 -
“But I am not a patient man, I hate waiting. But I hate the flaw of impatience within myself even more. For a man must strive toward perfection, knowing full well that it will forever be unobtainable”
When I have you
- April 2 -
Sublime,
I’d show you warm skies and sand that stings bear feet,
Pines that sing in a choir of leaves,
Flavours caught from the Cape Town seas,
And breathless views you have never seen.
Satisfied, I’d be here a world away with you
A dream born of beauty and peace
Its here you comfort me,
Here you stencil love on the streets
For beauty is not that which is seen,
it is love shared in these trivial dreams.
Words
- March 22 -
Mouthed by leaders to lie or deceive,
controlled by books to learn or retrieve.
Whispered by lovers to love or to hate,
used by monsters to destroy or create.
If what we say is what we do,
then all we need is what is true.
For words create the greatest hand,
and on this page a pictured land.
Grasp
Hold me to fate,
unacquiring hatred to flight.
It seeps as my hand falls to my side.
Sigh, turn, fade the sight of you from my eyes.
She’s dressed in black, silhouetted upon my flooded mind.
Soak the fear as gravity claims these tears,
and hearts surrender me to silence.
She’s cold, she’s calm
She’s the shudder beneath this window
She’s life, she’s me,
She’s everything white should be.
And my arm strides, parting from her side, praying as I leave her behind
That this moment, hatred to flight, so desperate in need,
feels the tarnished decision to breath.
I’ll find you
I’ll find you
Soft sunken soil curls between my toes, as I lay here exposed for all to see.
My eyes close to picture you…
Slow afternoon sun beats through the window as I stare to your face with sleepy eyes.
You run gentle fingers through my hair, and soft lips lay words of comfort upon these tired ears…I love you.
The gun shot tears through the evening sky!
For it is not the searing pain that floods these veins to howl me, it’s the unforgiving moment from which they tore you from my arms.
They came at night, cloaked, damp and cold. Their faces hidden by cloth to shield their shameful brutality. Like executioners of force, they tore this axe before me and severed you from my side.
We were young, affectionate and mindful of each others dreams, but this day proves that the mistakes of fathers and treaties of tyrants shall exclude no man in it’s wake of destruction. It steers the black horse of greed through towns of futile infatuation, penetrating innocence and smothering thatch in flame.
The mountain surrenders the echo of my cry to silence, as scarlet rain pools by my side. Two soldiers make me stand, one wielding hair that once bathed in light, and the other painful affliction that kneels me through my groin.
The pain is welcome, it calms the nerves that claw to the surface…begging, pleading, crying in fear…they have no place here, as I focus agony to remember you.
After the men pulled you from my arms, a light burst to my eyes as I caught the floor moving towards me. Gun butts, iron and faded images are all that I recall as the ringing of boots to my back and chest surround me.
I peer through black cloaks swaying marvellously in the wind as their legs retreat for another blow. Between these sheets of darkness I see you…I see my love, thrust in the air as arms secure you.
It is not a moment before the white embroidered dress retreats to your thighs and straps hang to the ground.
Your chest protrudes from the gown now throbbing in desperation as your screams catch the sky.
As I stand naked in the mud and rain resting what strength I have on the only leg that can now support me, I pray that you are alright. It’s been two weeks since they shattered our home and broke our lives apart.
Today I stand alone, grateful for the lack of companionship as the weeks of questioning before this bury brutality to my soul.
It’s over now.
The men march behind a leather glove raised in authority and end their monotonous journey as their boots slam to the floor!
Before the mud retreats to the ground around steel tips and lace, a slide to 90° calls all ten men to simultaneously lift their barrels behind the command of the now fisted glove.
It’s quite,
The rain falls on the hand that commands them…
“You killed three of my men in that house.” says the leather conductor…
“With no valuable outcome of your questioning, we find no reason for you to breathe this city’s air, and must regrettably ensure the purification of our nation.”
“You will taste the gunpowder of our barrels before you are given the gift of slavery to the afterlife.”
Silence…
Hand forward, fire, scream
Collapse, extinguish life
The trees move behind smoking barrels of iron
Résistance, torn gown protruding, storm the men with backs to this
Wall of savoir
Bodies fall with twitching leather glove
Silence, retreat
White muddy dress beside me
Hands cradle me gently, fingers through my hair…I love you.
