whole … … …
her questions came quick – do i love her, could we share a part of each other’s soul.
i was quiet then, silenced, but felt something –
i felt whole … … …
Archive for March 3, 2016
gold dust beneath my feet … … …
walking in this city of diamonds, gold dust beneath my feet, sleeping under her rainy skies, embracing my newspapersheet,
i had a life, once upon a time ago, a woman too, now just a huddle of rags, while they walk past, never scrounging in their gucci bags,
she left me, or i myself, on these bleak jo’burg roads, searching for that fix, finding me at these desolate crossroads,
now i stand alone, these empty streets my bed, all this gold dust beneath my feet, my blood soaking the earth, drops of beaten red,
so i wish you well, friends, all of you who have walked on, and away, wishing you gold dust amidst the fray, leaving me to beg or borrow, to get through another jo’burg day … … …
a glass of drinkable water, safe and untainted by grime, a basic need, to simply exist, not ‘live’ or euphemisms suchlike, for ‘living’, lets face it, is for the likes of us, just plain taken for granted, absolutely no need to even debate, but you see ‘they’ are mere fertiliser, womanmanhours billably rotund, deadwood for the belching furnace, expendable too, and if nothing else is, that much is true … … …
Scribbled Verse 