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Imperfect Poet

Poetry, short stories and other things.

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creative

Don’t forget to live

So, I haven’t posted in a very long time. This is mainly due to the fact that I was busy, with you know, life and exams and stuff. And tonight, driving home from visiting my mom in the hospital, I realized how sad this actually is. Not that I haven’t been posting, but that I haven’t been writing.

You see, the problem is that we get so caught up in life and all its demands that we forget to do the things that we love. We forget to write and dance and paint and we forget to go for a run once in a while. We forget to take care of ourselves, phisically and mentally. We work and work and study and work some more and we never stop to actually BREATHE. We forget to actually LIVE this life and not just get through the day.

Yet we do not realise that life is so short, so precious. Every momet is a gift and every chance to do what we love is a blessing. One day we will be stuck in a hospitalbed thinking about yesterday and regret all the time that we lost to the demands of this world.

I am not saying that everyone sould stop working and studying and making a contribution to society. All that I am saying is: take a moment. Breathe. Remember that there is still good in this world and that there is still a purpose. You feel your heart beating in your chest? Every beat is another blessing, another chance to do something to change the world, to save someone, even if that someone is you. Remember to take the time to care for yourself insead of spending your life taking care of others. Do something that makes you happy. Write, read, dance, draw, paint, sleep, go for a run, spend some quality time with your pet, wash your hair.

All that I am saying is: don’t forget to live.

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no creativity

Creativity drains out of me
as “education” takes its place.

New information is pushed
and pushed and crammed
into every last corner of my mind.
So where will I find
the time to rest
or to think
or feel
or, quite frankly,
do anything but deal with the
heaps of papers
the towers of books
towering over me.

I once was lost in an ocean
of words
a sea of creativity-
I am now trapped in a cage
and I am not allowed to engage
with the ones outside
or my fears staring back at me from
the other side of the bars.

What is this,
this life,
what is it really?
I ask myself resentfully
for it is a question
that I wish not to answer honestly.

Honestly?
What is wrong with me?

Why do I ramble on
like a crazy person
trying to write all that I can
in any form that I can?

I am a bird caught in a snare.
I am a fish in a pool of thought.
I am a body drained of blood.

A mouth muted.
A young mind polluted

City lights 

​City lights.

They are there to illuminate

And to keep safe

To help

Yet they kill the earth

Bulb by bulb

They burst

And break

And kill .

They are not supposed to be this beautiful 

And yet they are.

All those rows

And rows

Of industrial fireflies,

Of electronic waves,

Of electronic life,

Of electronic beauty.

Woorde.

​My brein het afgeskakel.

My woorde het opgedroog.

My vingers het verkalk.

My potlood het veras.

My papier het ek opgevrommel

En my lippe kon geen woord vorm

En my hande kon geen letter konstrueer

Totdat ek opgegee het.

En toe was die woorde in beheer

En die woorde het my verras

En my potloop het geskribbel

En my vingers het gedans oor die sleutels,

Maar my brein: 

Hy het nooit weer aangeskakel.

Clouds

​I have always found clouds

so fascinating –

the way that they peacefully hang in the air

as though from an invisible thread.

Some times they are as high as the stars 

but some times they are so low that they hide the mountain tops.

It makes me wonder:

Is fog, then, merely clouds longing to go home? 

Is water, then, merely droplets of homesick clouds?

Or are clouds 

merely masses of unhappy water,

migrating to a happier place?

  

Away

you thief of inspiration.

Be gone

you thief of thoughts.

Away with you

you thief of words.

You nameless creacher

that feeds on

creativity-

be gone with you,

I pray.

Heaven and Earth

​I see yellow 

and green

fields

and trees

Intertwined 

with the blue 

above

and soft blankets

of white water

reflected

in the blue

under. 

And I wonder, 

are heaven and earth

really so different?

Please explain

It is funny how people have this constant need to explain themselves and their actions.

We live in a time where you cannot leave a room without giving a reason. You cannot swear under your breath without having to mutter an excuse of a “sorry, it’s just…”

I think that this must be very convenient for interrogation purposes.

Of course their are the few people who do not have this need. Of course they are seen as rude or abrupt.

We live in a please-explain-generation.

One cannot refuse an invite without a reason. One cannot leave without a valid excuse.
Maybe this is our own fault,  like so many other things that form a part of our society.

I wonder why we make things so much harder than they need to be.
We over think.
We over do.
We over act.
We over load.
We over consume.
We over explain. 

I wonder if anybody would care to please explain why.

The future

Where has the future gone?

Where has the bright summer days

and the clear skies –

that we polluted for our own selfish gain –

gone?

Where has the future gone?

Where has the beautiful, green forests

that provide life –

that we destroy for our selfish cause –

gone?

Where has our future gone?

How dare Mother Earth

steal it from us?

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