Noose Leash Even with the edge filed off, Your fingers find my chalkboard. Screw my lid on from the inside, And try to punch some holes. The strength it takes to hold four feet, from the sharks beneath the see-saw. The cycle set to rinse/repeat The drum not quite in time. Yes I
And I’m out I’ve thought long and hard, what I’d say on this day. Play it all cool or get emo and gay. Or write a long letter and send out a mail. About how much I love you before I set sail. I started out here as an eager intern. Motivated to work and
I love to see my friends each day,And tell them all hello.I love to give them lots of hugs,I’m sad to see them go.I’m happy each and every time,There’s something new to share!I love to greet most everyone…But that guy, over there. I only want the best for folks,My friends and family.I want to see
A poem I wrote because people on the Internet make me sad sometimes. UPDATE: This will soon be published as an illustrated children’s book, under my new publishing company, Turtlebird Books. Keep an eye out for that. Thanks to everyone who demanded I finally get around to it! There once were some people, Who were
I’m so happy was able to find this old poem of mine. I wrote it in 2012 for an entertainment website I used to co-author with my buddy Dale. A few years ago, though, the hosting lapsed and the backups were lost, along with a bunch of my favourite poems. I managed to find this
In a land knowns as Florida, Far, far away,There lived beasts of pleasure,Who chilled out the whole day.No one could begrudge them,Their natural way,“For manatees are manatees”,The old folk did say. They’d lie in the sun,And get righteously blazed,From sunup to sunset,For days and for days.Then when the sun,Had receded its rays,They’d go under water,And
Primary bodily functionAir, warmth, water, sleep.In that order.Before pride, dignity, love, laughter, sex, music, friendship, family, blood, food, eyesight, speech, humour, anything, everything. Your heart becomes a murmur,Forever flickering like a spent fluorescent bulb,A broken insect on its back, kicking at nothing,Wishing its legs would just let it rest. You know enough to know that
Where am I?And how did I get there?How can a place like that even exist?Let alone be slipped and fallen into unawares? I have met darkness.Its hands are cold.Its grip is firm.And it whispers at you in a voice that sounds mockingly like your own. Terror.Abject, heart-stopping fear.Like the pressure of all the oceans on
Love. It’s a real motherfucker, ain’t it? Like any drug, You wake up wondering if it was worth the pain. But, if you could get another shot of real love, You’d be at the garage right now, Nervously waiting for a gentleman with a strange accent, Wouldn’t you? I’d be in the car parked next
Young man, go about your travels.Seek out the giants you feared as a boy.But know that certain tales of their terror,Should not be taken lightly.Do not mistake sensibility for cowardice. Young man, seek out adventure.Do the things that you should not.But do them with your eyes wide open,And one of them ever fixed upon your
The sun is coming.And it will scream inside your head.Everyone will see.Everyone will feel your sickness.A streetlight ever outside your window,Moths, bashing at the bulbs inside your eyes.Screaming inward. Caving inward. Voices that are not your own.Coup d’etat of the mind.Nowhere to go.No legs. No road. No map. You can’t lie down when you’re already
A poem I wrote back in 2012 about an heroic steed who fought for love and his beliefs against oppressive cultural norms. And, racist zebras and stuff. I never got around to posting it on my old site, Mojodojo, and I dig it. So here it is. Hope you like it… Tony The Pony From
Even with the edge filed off,Your fingers find my chalkboard.Screw my lid on from the inside,And try to punch some holes. The strength it takes to hold four feet,from the sharks beneath the see-saw.The cycle set to rinse/repeatThe drum not quite in time. Yes I cleaned the edges up,And yes, I guess, I sat down.But
A poem I wrote for my wonderful girlfriend Ingrid. Essentially, it’s all about how there are sometimes no words. I’d have dreamed of you all my life, But I’m not that good at dreaming. I’d sing you a song that stirs your heart, But I’m no good at singing. It’s funny how I talk
Probably my favourite ever piece of my writing. Certainly one of them, at any rate. I have a plan to one day write the whole of Lucas’ story into a full-length rhyming novel. I have it in my head. I hope I get a chance to let it out one day. I was a lot
Oh, Mighty Hen of Glory!Oh, bird of flightless mirth!I’ll sing the world your story!To recognise your worth! From skies above they cast you down,They treated you unfair.They struck you down upon the groundAnd you were then stuck there. For thirteen seconds, you did fly,A record was then set.It was a gallant, fearless try.One we will
Another old, unstructured one from my early days of putting poems out into the world. It’s kind of frantic and haphazard, but there’s imagery I love in here. It’s about a few random things that happened over a weekend with good friends. Including a crush I developed in the night. Poised To Stop To Break
A goodbye-poem I wrote for Tamar; the lovely girl I dated from 1999 (when I was 17 in Matric) until 2006 (when I was 25, had finished two qualifications and worked full-time for two years). We broke up amicably, mutually and on good terms. She’s getting married soon, and I think the world of her.
A poem that marks one of the first days I ever felt real hope. It was a few months before I properly started the mission that led to my losing 67kg. It was just a silly little note I banged out on Facebook, trying to put outlines on a new feeling I was trying to
Another early, angry little rant from the early days of writing these things in a public forum. This one was actually me freestyle rhyming (“rapping”) in my head at work. I liked it, so I tried to take down as much of the rhyme as I could remember. Glad I did. It’s suitably mid-twenties angsty,
Another very early, kind-of-haphazard poem of mine. I really like the sentiment and some of the imagery, even if the structure and flow leave something to be desired. I also hope that I still believe the message. I remember life being so tough and, on paper, crap back then. But I was optimistic and happy.
Ha ha! I really enjoyed this one. It’s a lot of fun. Entirely frivolous, which was – if I recall correctly – entirely the point. I haven’t read this since around about the time I wrote it, and I really enjoyed reading it now. Busting the Ill Shit (A Ramble Without a Plan) I will
I really like this one, even if it’s very dark. I summised it at the time with a little disclaimer on Facebook telling my friends that I was okay, and that I was just trying to use words to “paint picture of a feeling I have sometimes.” This painting is pretty vivid to me, and
I wrote this one a plane, coming back from Mexico, thinking about something I was rather fixated with at the time; identity. I like the extended food metaphor, and the internet references. Still pretty valid today, I think. It’s kinda goofy, but kinda poignant. A little juvenile, but I like it. Xerox You’ve selected all
This is one of my all-time favourites, even if it is very dark and very personal. Every time I read it, it takes me back to what might be the darkest feeling I’ve ever felt. I was so angry, literally dying of obesity, trapped in my body and only slightly more angry than I was
