Come sunday

 Its Mid-day thursday
I'm afraid come sunday, the twilight of the week
Everyone else is way ahead of me
everyone else got to work yesterday
and this morning
now im left behind, and im afraid.

Though theres still half a week left,
i feel like my week has begun to end
and all the good parts are over

It feels like i made so many mistakes
without really risking anything

I cant shake the feeling that its too late to have a good week.

Therefore im afraid come Sunday.
If i even make it there.

Traveller

 i'm a world traveller
i come from a different world

for the first 20 years of my life i lived in that other world
 

and for the next 20 ive been living in this world
 

maybe for the next 20 i'll live in yet another world
 

this other world looks a lot like this world
but is so very very different in the living of it

never was

Severe nostalgic sadness has a way
of letting you know you're really alive
or at least that you used to be
Put on a song that reminds you of your broken childhood
or rather the sweet rare gems of happiness scattered in it
each tied to inevitable tragedy
Each happy moment swelling and glistening with what could have been
what should have been
but never was
Each of those moments now like
a candle melted all the way down to the end of the wick
Your life a druggie's altar under the causeway

My heart's arms can no longer reach out
like they used to
now they are burnt stumps turning people away

the mid morning winter sun

the mid morning winter sun
shines like a lone sentinel
keeping watch over the land

sitting here inside my house
its tendrils stick through the open curtains
caressing my little dog on the couch
with its comforting warmth

But me here in the corner
i cannot feel its warmth
i am tied here to my work shackles
i must be content with seeing it
feeling it in my mind's eye

the coldness under my desk
pulls and claws at my legs
bites and gnaws
as if trying to drag me into the underworld

but i dont think i'll go there today
for now this half mid morning winter sun half underworld limbo
is where i'll stay

Feminine Mystique

Temples

Mouths like reception

Towers and exterior ornamentation but bare inner walls with cracked and damp bubbled paint.

Of damaged and crumbling towers outside but beautiful and fragrant on the inside.

Some priests and nuns just party all the time and in some they study and write and philosophise.

Some would bar me from the drinking fountain and some would let me enter the inner chamber for a short while and for a price

Some were desperate for disciples that they would let just anybody in and in those I felt invisible.

Some required me to be a saint first and perform 3 miracles before I was granted entry to the sanctum but they let me drink at the fountain in the meantime.

Some would say I didn't pray in quite the right way and some thought I could not pray at all.

And some have left me bruised and battered, and stronger than before.

I have wandered upon many different temples;

Some as similar as all the others and some as different as can be.

For many years now have I travelled through the desert

searching for my religion.

Yet still in the sky the hope-star shines,

and still i see on the horizon more temples to explore.

Sunset of the sunrise

Let me tell you about the girl i met last night
In a quiet busy bar during daytime
She came along as plain as day
as beautiful as the rising sun

She guided me by the hand or by the eyes or by the ears,
i really cant remember
we went outside and sat on the grassy sidewalk
under a tree
and spoke a little bit about her and me

She had an encouraging disapproval
she was no scientist or mathematician
but oh god was she pretty

And just like that she whisked out an easel
and a palette and started painting
the bakkie across the road
which carried a rack of tools and vegetables

though we had on one side the breathtaking mountain
with crevice like frozen sides and that silencing presence
on the other side we had the quietly thunderous ocean
dropping crystal blue swells almost on top of us

yet none of this was in the picture
that was drawn by this vision of mine

i was taken, in mind and in soul
and in everything else i had to give
smitten and sold and beyond love
with that avatar of heaven behind the blue eyes an heart stopping smile

But i will never see her again
not ever
that was a once in a lifetime experience
i wish it wasn't, and that i could just drop everything and go find her again

But by the end of tomorrow I'll probably have forgotten what she looks like

A fairytale called life

--A fairytale called life

Sometimes i feel like dying
and living my next life
as the shade of a tree
or the smell of rain on a hot day
and it is not a death wish
but a wish to be more beautiful than beauty itself

My god is in the forest, in the trees
she lives in a warm embrace, quickened breath
he has a house in the kind of pain that makes you feel like your skin is tearing from your soul
My god walks in the sky and is a dark-heavy cloud, angry with tears

my god is not your God
and asks nothing of me
only demands that i be free
and that i listen, think, see

my soul is in the trees and the streams
my heart in the moist earth and dusty dunes

when i die i will be forever silent
but i will scream with the wind
and howl with the wolves
and cry with ravens

i will cheer with the waterfalls
and sigh with the oceans
and i will grumble with the earth

sometimes i feel like dying
and being god
but it is not a death wish

--Stark Botha