Thursday, October 2, 2008

Big black patch of happiness to make me whole

Last night, what man looked at the same stars as do i tonight.
where is he or she who gazed up yesterday's eve
who looked up last night to meet the archer
like i greeted him tonight?

Which man, woman or beast
gazed at the stars to the east
on any of the nights gone past this week
whether by chance, purpose or answers they seek

Over whose heads did tonight's stars hang
when the moon was last full
under these stars was there anyone who sang
when the zodiac was still in the bull

in whose eyes did sparkle these lights
sparkle the year before,
these lights of infinite nights
in whose eyes,via surface or floor

tens of years ago
was there anyone I'd know
who stood under these stars

so the skies will fly
as they ever have flown
for longer than people have known
till long after the last man would die

our forefathers and mothers
made love under these same skies
our ancestors killed and ate
in the light of this very heavenly pate

from monkeys we came
from the ocean, all the same
millenia ago, as nights washed to and fro
on this curtain the winds of time would blow

In ages past they have inspired
men to believe them gods, fools
and even holes for ghouls
to heaven's pyres.

But to me they are a father that never died
a mother that never shy'd
a family that never crumbled
and a love i never fumbled.

- Stark Botha

Commiserate a bygone era

oh it hurts oh it burns
to think of the world gone by
the lives our fathers and mothers led
all gone up in ash and smoke
gone gone gone forever and away

little thoughts and big dreams
big hair and funny shoes that gleam
thinking of the loss
it almost makes me scream

poppy choppy hoppy jive
technofunky colours
in a world in a twirl
what a place what a place
to make my heart so race

in the days gone by
dear dad dear mom
did you ever feel this way
about the times before your day?

what of us, of us young folk
who now have to carry the yoke
sooner or later our youth, our lives, will choke
oh the notion of it, it makes my heart so broke

so here we are, brief sparks
best we embrace every opportunity that harks
make of it the best we can
by hook, crook or even by plan

oh sigh
oh sigh
the end seems ever nigh
sooner or later the bubble will pop
and our era will abrubruptly stop

usurped, upturned by a new kind of pop
made away made to be gay by a new kind of 'Hey!'

-Stark Botha

Life and Limbo

There is a life that some of you dont know.
There is a life i lead, that none of you know.
A life where it is the norm
To be so alone
that you can feel your soul bleeding.

So go on all of you, you all
enjoy your lives, so fruitful and full
of joy.
Your partners and families, uncles aunts and even dogs.
Go have your happy little life, without me.

Me, on the other hand,
let me sit here
like a laurel'd hero in my own world.
Akimbo of this vaudevillian life.

A veteran am i
on not being known
nor understood
but that is not chief of my fears

the monster that haunts me most
is the wasted hours by myself.
Is life really life in absence of fellows?
Is time spent alone, akin to hanging from the gallows?

- Stark Botha

Progressive Cacophony

If rain could speak, what would it say?
Yesterday, last night, tomorrow and today
Electric rain will splatter our faces
and leave of glory, absolutely no traces

The clouds that swirl
are hounds of fog in our minds
billowing soot and smog
a heavy laden blanket that blinds

The wind that howls and gusts
could never upturn the gales of our lusts

All hail, all hail all the hail
the bombs of our natures
rained down and left craters
that soon became history's braile

We are a force that should be reckoned with
a force that was borne of nature
So we erupt on a technological plinth,
we will get our own back, but only much too later.

-Stark Botha


Its when you realise how sad the world is that you begin to feel sad to be a part of it.

Its when you realise how much the same everyone is that you begin to feel so very alone.

Its when you realise that theres nobody out there who will ever really know you, that you begin to know yourself.

When you begin to understand the world, you begin to realise that nobody will ever really understand you.

In all the hope that has been lost, you hope that everything you understand can still be proven wrong.

The loneliness drives you.

The darkness comforts you.

And everyone around you could be just another person just like you, afraid theres nothing to live for.

The rain feels like your mother, hushing you when you're sad.

The earth feels like your father, supporting you at all times, someone to fall against.

6 billion people. And counting.

Nature never speaks. But its always there.

People never stop talking. Always talking. And they'll never stop talking. Not even the deaf, the blind or the mute.

But who are they? Who is any one of them and who are you?

The people are nothing to you when you are nothing to them.

Its a crying shame. Its a shame that there are people crying. Crying over all the wrong things.

There are those who call everything evil, just to hide the evil in their hearts.


Do you hear the rain that always falls at the back of your mind? Your mind is a

grimey city street where it always rains and nobody ever walks. All the people that you see are in their cars

or buses but they never walk. It is dark. A dark night where you cant hear anything but the rain.

No crickets, no owls, no talk. Just the the splattering of drops and splashing of tyres driving through

the deluge. And always you sit at the window, some window. Looking through the glass at the rain, the black night

and the occasional light. Sometimes like now you actually take a step outside to get wet. To remember what it

felt like to be you. Back in the days when people walked the streets but some of them could hurt you.


Its better this way, you know. Its better. No people rather than evil people. People who would hurt you,

people you could kill.

sonorous brother

where have all my old lovers gone?
and do they ever think of me
or do they float on the winds of joy and life
like seeds of grass to grow completely free

i will rattle my shackles
in an envious tenure
thinking how my affections changed
and made them see me as manure

hope as we may that we did
learn lessons from those gone by
hope we got something from that lovely art
something for the hole each one left in my heart

but we grow
and even hurts of the heart may heal
and leave the scars
of love's great spars

on we look to the new horizon
hoping theres someone out there in the storm
to see us cowering against the wind
to pick us up and keep us warm

bereft of hope and seeking life
like aliens we stumble
hobble about
pained by those who cannot understand us
those we cannot comprehend

exquisite pain
for those of us whose butterfly wings
have been stripped and torn
before we could even on the wind be borne

so for now i must forget i had such wings
forget that i could ever fly
on hearts tremultuous winds
on mother's woven sky

and i must seek to be another
seek to be the man i never was
the man i should have been
or else die as a cold weather shudder

-stark botha

The moth and the butterfly

What is the nature of a flower
to a creature in the sky?
it is all the world and more
to a butterfly

what is the nature of a flame
in the night's cloudy froth?
the single-most deathly lust
to a moth

the moth flies swiftly to its demise
wanting for the brightest flame it spies
over every obstacle she will fly
only in putrid smoke to die

wings up in flame
a never ending game
the moth would do everything in its power
to go to the flame and not the flower

the butterfly is drawn to the flower
the sweet sweet nectar gives it its power
the butterfly will shy away from the flame
it will not dance the deathly game

floating on the softly scented summer breeze
beautifully fluttering with grace and with ease
to sip away at wholesome heaven's water
to fly again another day, nature's daughter

-Stark Botha