LEARNING HOW TO WALK

Tick tock, tick tock, tick tock....
The clock persisted,
Tick,tick, tock,tick, tock,
The hands clapped,
Almost in a cold mock,
Tick,tick,tick, tick.....
The hour called,
"Time to end the crawl madam," the clock chimed. "Wash your claws for the watch is over."

True,
The watch was ended,
The mind was learned,
Crafted and trained in the ways of the world,
It was time to act, a time to be,
So I dorned my cloak,
And went out to save the world,
To save myself.

My first step was on the roadside,
Passing on wares for a decent price.
I couldn't have been anymore down to earth than I was then,
Out of control, eating dust and baking under an unforgiving sun.
Walking was harder than I had imagined.

My second step took me online,
It was cooler, nobler and cleaner.
Delivery after delivery made my legs as strong as an athlete's,
And before I knew it,
I was on television calling the shots on my own show.

Walking was harder still,
I was making a kill,
Shit was moving fast,
I was literally on my toes,
Desperately trying to keep up.

What had been a walk,
Was now the talk,
And the talk got me jogging,
Then running,
Eventually racing,
I was sweating notes,
Juggling shit-loads,
Purchasing boats,
Cruising from coast to coast,
I was the business,
The one who had learned the walk.

Tick, tick,tick,tick, tick...
The clock cried,
Snapping me from my hypnotic state,
"No!" I cried realising that I was still on my hands and knees.

Merry Me

Delight is real,
Alive I feel,
Like a storm awesomely vicious, full of gusto, majestic zest.
Like the sand beneath the lake: hot; like the water above: cool.
I'm falling faster than a shooting star,
I'm hotter than boiling tar.
I'm alive baby,
Because of you I feel alive!

You have planted laughter in my soul,
A light bright that darkness cannot follow.
You have kissed me alive,
And suddenly I know what I have been missing,
I understand what I should be wanting,
What I should be seeking, needing and praying.

Delight is real,
A good man is the deal!
Just look at me; dazed like Gollum with the precious ring.
Grinning from ear to ear like a clown.
Delight is real,
Delight I feel.
I am perfectly smitten!

THE MAN-HIGH

Ever been on a man high?
A high so strong that leaves you reeling?
A high so wrong that keeps you wanting?
A high so right that you can't stop aching?
A high of needing, seething, searching, wondering, mourning....
A high of confusion, a high of hating one self,
A high from hell, a high deeper than the deepest well,
A high that is a curse,
A high experienced by a smitten lass.

I am that lass,
So star struck that-
That on this love I take a pass,
That on this string I choose not the bass,
That on men I quit the fuss,
That on looks I will hide the sass,
That on words I will be forever terse,
That on flower gifts I will keep no vase!
I am quitting on the man high,
The high that got me muddling in a sigh.

Ever been on a man high?
An awesome high when he is close by,
A hair-ripping high when he kisses his bye.
A high voluptuous and satiating when he calls,
A high deflating and cold when he ignores,
A high of dreams and goals when in his arms,
A high of loss and being stuck when he is being an ass.
It's the high that mends you only to tear you apart,
It's the high that consoles only to break you apart,
It's the high that defines you, then confuses you,
It's the high that warms you, then freezes you,
It's the high I hate, the high that's a mate,
It's the high that he gives and forgets to keep giving!

This high has:
Driven me mad,
Made me sad,
Turned me sour as curd,
Very much anti-lad.
This high got me wanting,
To roll up in mud,
To get on the bottle and sing kumbaya,
Yap,
I'm crazy!
Hazy and dazed,
Bitching every minute like an unpaid whore.

This high got me motivated to be bad,
Hike up my skirt,
Make my booty twerk,
Twerk, clap like thunder on a roll,
Twerk, clap till them honnies throw me a roll,
Get diced and sliced,
Hopefully till you call.

Once

I loved once.
Once when I was a fair young maiden,
Once when I was a restless young woman,
Once when I was a seasoned calmly woman.
Yes, I did love,
Men skilled with lance,
Men gentle and scarce,
Men careless and jerks.
Now,
Now all I do is pray.

Once,
Years passed, days lived, books read,
I could sleep like a babe,
Dream of years passed, days lived, books read.
Now,
Now shut eye comes short and light,
With thoughts of mates passed, days lived, chapters unwritten....sometimes.
Most times,
I pray through the night.

An appetite I once had,
Of succulent fruits, greasy foods, baked goods....
I often craved,
Flesh,
Hot and red.
I many a times drank,
From crystal glasses, beer glasses..
Now,
My hunger is embedded in prayer.

I was,
but now I ain't.
I needed,
Yet now I needn't.
There was,
There still is.
I could,
Now I can't.
Now,
All I do is pray.

CLOSET CLEANING

It was so like the typical horror movie scene: a hand reaching for a door that hides something sinister, something unknown.
The knowledge that whatever it is, it will get you.
No matter how swift you run,
how loud you scream for help,
you are a dead man.

The mental picture of such many scenes previously watched,
Gave me an exciting shudder,
Consequently brought me to wonder,
About the 'things' locked tightly yonder,
A place I had learned to forget,
A place I'm certain the term 'skeletons in the closet' described so perfectly,
"It was time," I thought, shuddering from pure fright!

I opened each door at a time,
With trembling hands, like a novice on a first crime.
Every opened door brought a cloud of dust to my face,
Behind it a sea of cobwebs and a swallowed case.
Within I had buried something,
And now I had to exhume it.
I hated it, but I had to keep the ring!

Clawing through the dirt,
I saw the grim past,
I trembled from a thousand feelings,
I ached from a dozen misgivings.
I was no longer a mature woman about to be wed,
Instead, I was a girl with lots of scars itching to be mend.

I had crawled under the bed,
Scared to death that this time he was surely going to kill her,
And true to his words, he finally did,
Taking himself with her.
Then there had been the cruel relatives,
The misguided believes:
I was a loony too, like father like daughter.
The scorning laughter,
The endless wishes of justice.....
I had had it rough, yet here I sat,
A woman whole, a woman survivor

At that instant it came to me,
As a woman goes to her wedding bed,
Yes I was scarred, but I had made it!
I was me because of my past,
I had faced the worst,
And now that I had faced it,
I needn't be afraid.
What had previously reeked of death,
Now brought unfathomable mirth,
It was like: a beautiful corpse, cold, calm...
It was so like a horror movie: the excitement and fright of something sinister, something perverse.

When it rains it pours

In a grey world,
Whose bustle and hustle,
Once loud, Now muffled,
By the mid year chill, the mid year bill,
Both heavy, hefty and heartless,
Boasts scars of a seasonal evolution.

How sensational to watch the reaction:
More boots, more hoots,
A soil choked on drainage,
So much hassle to cover that mileage,
A booming business of warm-wear, hot beverages and umbrellas,
A flu epidemic,
Misty breath,
An infrastructure stunned by increased surface run off,
Puddles, muddling muddy streets,
A game of hop, skip and jump.
Sensational almost doesn't cover it!

Clearly, nothing makes Third World problems pop like the pouring rain -
Nay, nothing emphasizes poor decision-making structures as does the pouring rain,
Both gain and rain, go down the drain!

Think of the council man who gained at the expense of construction on a riparian area,
Plans to improve an efficient drainage system that were ignored,
Individuals who littered; litter that ended up in a river, in a drainage,
Developers who grabbed wayleaves......
Why,
Is this not simply beyond sensational?

A graduate's woes

I must have fancied these moments a million times before,
Yet the reality is a million miles away from the former.
I couldn't have been prepared for what I now face,
I couldn't have imagined that dreams could unfold at such a painfully slow pace.
Still,
The fact that this is just a foreword,
Leaves me quite speechless.

How reckless of me,
To think that one moment's hard work,
Could justify another moment in the future?
I have been clueless!
I was born to toil,
A labourer,
And such I will meet my death.

Youth's glasses saw life as eternal,
Now,
I see life through a grown up's eyes.
How could there be so much to do yet so little time?
So many plans to be made?
Quite an amount of regrets and no redo button.
Surely,
Two hundred years seem hardly enough!

I believe my educators humoured me,
For why else do I feel lost in a world I thought myself prepared for?
Why else do I feel that my armor of certificates and degree is hardly a shield enough for this fast world?
Did I spend twenty one years doing it all wrong?

Clearly,
My first chapter has nothing but questions, blank spaces and so much sadness...
I am simply stuck.
How this story unravels is beyond my vision!