I learned how to fly so I wouldn’t have to fall
I strayed from my nest and found the highest clouds
Perched on the shadows, singing my name in the breeze
They drifted along that forever blue ribbon with ease
I made my way through stormy dark, sleet and rain
So I could float up there in the air and never fall again
But all the way up there without a care
I couldn’t see the ground or hear a sound.
I was a fish out of water.
Wednesday, March 9, 2011
Monday, March 7, 2011
"From my rotting body, flowers shall grow and I am in them and that is eternity." Thomas Moore
Shuffling, scratching, picking, smoothing, stroking. She sits across from me, staring intently at me and smiling; concentrating. Her face is all cheer but her body betrays her smile.
Behind those blue eyes, dulled by time, lies a dying fire. I watch for the rare flicker but I am forced to wait longer than usual. I am forced to ask about the weather. The topic is stretched beyond its capacity and snaps.
Silence.
I ask how her day has been when I know what the answer will be: “Oh, the same – always great. Yes, good, fine!” Confused, scared, lonely.
Silence.
The silence lapses on and on… Her fiddling engulfs us like a roaring wave.
As she opens her mouth and reaches for the words she needs, her hands become the aftershock from her fumbled broken sentences. Smoothing her skirt, shaken and scattered, she smooths out the rubble left over from her mental earthquake.
And then our eyes meet.
Suddenly, we both smile and laugh but we see through the others fake cheer. We pick ourselves up and struggle on through the leaden silences. The staccato sentences.
The worst part is knowing that this has made her day.
Behind those blue eyes, dulled by time, lies a dying fire. I watch for the rare flicker but I am forced to wait longer than usual. I am forced to ask about the weather. The topic is stretched beyond its capacity and snaps.
Silence.
I ask how her day has been when I know what the answer will be: “Oh, the same – always great. Yes, good, fine!” Confused, scared, lonely.
Silence.
The silence lapses on and on… Her fiddling engulfs us like a roaring wave.
As she opens her mouth and reaches for the words she needs, her hands become the aftershock from her fumbled broken sentences. Smoothing her skirt, shaken and scattered, she smooths out the rubble left over from her mental earthquake.
And then our eyes meet.
Suddenly, we both smile and laugh but we see through the others fake cheer. We pick ourselves up and struggle on through the leaden silences. The staccato sentences.
The worst part is knowing that this has made her day.
Monday, February 28, 2011
"Every car held staring eyes and the sky felt full of ravens."
Sometimes when the sun is out,
I take my umbrella for a stroll,
Casting shadows on my footsteps,
Jumping over the cracked tiles,
Throwing cautious glances about,
Forgetting to inhale,
Always forgetting to look up,
But forever chasing the light.
I take my umbrella for a stroll,
Casting shadows on my footsteps,
Jumping over the cracked tiles,
Throwing cautious glances about,
Forgetting to inhale,
Always forgetting to look up,
But forever chasing the light.
Friday, February 25, 2011
“Reality is merely an illusion, although a very persistent one” Albert Einstein
SPACED OUT
For a friend with struggles.
Up in space is where I love to be,
Improving my intergalactic vocabulary.
Meeting aliens is what I do,
Keeping them a secret from all of you.
My spaceship looks just like an over sized plate,
But driving it round makes me bring up what I ate.
But sometimes space isn’t all its made out to be,
Sometimes, many times, always times I feel lonely.
Its really really dark and you cant see anywhere,
I used to be afraid of the dark but now I don’t care.
In space there is no beginning or end,
Its easy to get lost and go round the bend.
Driving around planets can be rather scary,
Other times, dodging satellites can get quite dreary.
If I went back home I don’t know what I’d be
Maybe a little boy, all confused, age three?
And sometimes when I think hard enough,
It’s hard to tell what’s real from bluff.
And sometimes when I think I’m in space,
I’m really just in bed, dreaming of that place…
For a friend with struggles.
Up in space is where I love to be,
Improving my intergalactic vocabulary.
Meeting aliens is what I do,
Keeping them a secret from all of you.
My spaceship looks just like an over sized plate,
But driving it round makes me bring up what I ate.
But sometimes space isn’t all its made out to be,
Sometimes, many times, always times I feel lonely.
Its really really dark and you cant see anywhere,
I used to be afraid of the dark but now I don’t care.
In space there is no beginning or end,
Its easy to get lost and go round the bend.
Driving around planets can be rather scary,
Other times, dodging satellites can get quite dreary.
If I went back home I don’t know what I’d be
Maybe a little boy, all confused, age three?
And sometimes when I think hard enough,
It’s hard to tell what’s real from bluff.
And sometimes when I think I’m in space,
I’m really just in bed, dreaming of that place…
Thursday, February 17, 2011
"If I discover within myself a desire which no experience in this world can satisfy, the most probable explanation is that I was made for another world" CS Lewis
A few things I bet you didn't know....
Lightning storms are the sound of new life being created.
Big waves are what happens when a lot of people are happy and jump around.
The rain is good because it gives the birds a reason to rest.
Creaking floor boards and banging doors are messages of love that were never heard. They're just in another language so we don't understand them.
Volcanoes erupt when the world gets stressed out.
Clouds are day dreams that got away.
Stars are little messages from other worlds.
Shadows are dark because they are sad peoples thoughts.
Thunder is a collection of all the echoes in the world.
The wind gets stronger when lots of people whistle.
Sand storms are dust particle weddings.
Trees fall over when they are lonely.
There are people on the other side of the mirror. They're just copy cats.
The earth spins on an axis because it loves to be twirled.
Umbrellas keep to themselves until they open up.
Lightning storms are the sound of new life being created.
Big waves are what happens when a lot of people are happy and jump around.
The rain is good because it gives the birds a reason to rest.
Creaking floor boards and banging doors are messages of love that were never heard. They're just in another language so we don't understand them.
Volcanoes erupt when the world gets stressed out.
Clouds are day dreams that got away.
Stars are little messages from other worlds.
Shadows are dark because they are sad peoples thoughts.
Thunder is a collection of all the echoes in the world.
The wind gets stronger when lots of people whistle.
Sand storms are dust particle weddings.
Trees fall over when they are lonely.
There are people on the other side of the mirror. They're just copy cats.
The earth spins on an axis because it loves to be twirled.
Umbrellas keep to themselves until they open up.
Wednesday, December 1, 2010
"Eating words has never given me indigestion." Winston Churchill
So I'm moving... This is the result of much procrastination. I felt that staring at a blank wall was less productive than this...
Bogart the bog was all a sad and gloom;
He was tired of being associated with imminent doom.
All he wanted was to live out in the warm sunshine;
Instead of beneath a dangerous abandoned coal mine.
Apart from that his life was comparatively great;
He had a family, huge and loving, and a couple of mates.
But being a teen silly Bog just didn’t see it:
He was content merely with throwing a fit.
His father, Fritz the blitz, gave him what he deemed to be “sage advice”;
“Son, see, the problem with the rest of the world is they just aren’t very nice.
We tried to make friends, we honest to good did;
They responded by chasing us straight off the grid.
I know here is tough to stomach, what with the smell;
But think of it this way: at least we’re all well.
We have food and friends and fun most of the time;
And we’re dry and warm here come rain or shine.”
At this point his mother stepped in;
“Fritz, give it a rest, you’ll never win.
That boy has his noodle all in a twist;
Why his face never shows anything but whist!
You should be glad you’ve been blessed with us;
Now quit your snuffling and cease with this fuss.”
And so, Bogart being the teenager he was, sulked all through the night;
He was ready to turn this thing into quite a fight.
So the following morning he packed his things;
He crept out the door, ready to spread his wings…
But:
It was not quite the adventure he’d had in mind;
Firstly the sun was so bright he thought he’d gone blind.
The world was so filled with hubbub noises and smells;
He’d never encountered such horrid olfactory hells.
Trudging back into his abandoned coal mine;
He began to rethink his dribble and whine.
He’d focussed on all the wrong issues in life;
And now he was sick of pessimism and strife.
The rest of his life should be all about good things;
Like eating and dating and reading about flings.
He’d have the biggest adventure of his life;
By beginning an earnest search for his future wife.
Bogart the bog was all a sad and gloom;
He was tired of being associated with imminent doom.
All he wanted was to live out in the warm sunshine;
Instead of beneath a dangerous abandoned coal mine.
Apart from that his life was comparatively great;
He had a family, huge and loving, and a couple of mates.
But being a teen silly Bog just didn’t see it:
He was content merely with throwing a fit.
His father, Fritz the blitz, gave him what he deemed to be “sage advice”;
“Son, see, the problem with the rest of the world is they just aren’t very nice.
We tried to make friends, we honest to good did;
They responded by chasing us straight off the grid.
I know here is tough to stomach, what with the smell;
But think of it this way: at least we’re all well.
We have food and friends and fun most of the time;
And we’re dry and warm here come rain or shine.”
At this point his mother stepped in;
“Fritz, give it a rest, you’ll never win.
That boy has his noodle all in a twist;
Why his face never shows anything but whist!
You should be glad you’ve been blessed with us;
Now quit your snuffling and cease with this fuss.”
And so, Bogart being the teenager he was, sulked all through the night;
He was ready to turn this thing into quite a fight.
So the following morning he packed his things;
He crept out the door, ready to spread his wings…
But:
It was not quite the adventure he’d had in mind;
Firstly the sun was so bright he thought he’d gone blind.
The world was so filled with hubbub noises and smells;
He’d never encountered such horrid olfactory hells.
Trudging back into his abandoned coal mine;
He began to rethink his dribble and whine.
He’d focussed on all the wrong issues in life;
And now he was sick of pessimism and strife.
The rest of his life should be all about good things;
Like eating and dating and reading about flings.
He’d have the biggest adventure of his life;
By beginning an earnest search for his future wife.
Tuesday, August 17, 2010
"Every act of creation is first an act of destruction" Pablo Picasso
Raaaaight. I joined the Vodacom color campaign recently and was asked to write for their blog. It's short and sweet and on one of my heroes... Tim Burton. Yes Please! If you want to check out what I've said here is the address. Peruse away: http://www.colorsuperpeers.co.za/
Otherwise, give the Vodacom color campaign a go. You get free airtime and other rad stuff I cant remember. Its great :D
Otherwise, give the Vodacom color campaign a go. You get free airtime and other rad stuff I cant remember. Its great :D
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