poets corner 14 ( relapses or corpses)

[the brand®]

WLKIN THESE STREETS
WIT A SCAR ON MY CHEST/
 ...TRYNA PUT EM TO REST/
..BUT THE BEST/
THAT I DID ...WAS MORE BAD DECISIONS THAT CAUSED ME SOME STRESS/
THE BACARDI IS NOT HELPIN BUT IT GIVES ME SOME REST /
A SMILE ON MY FACE AT BEST/
AND AT BEST/
IM A FAILURE/
TRAUMATISED LIKE A HOLACAUST SURVIVOR-
OR LESS/
I DONT KNOW BUT..........
THE SILENCE WAS A CALL FOR HELP/
ITS TOO LATE NOW IVE ALREADY LOST MY HEALTH/
A BAD KNEE....A TICKET BACK TO HELL---
FOR US THIS IS TRUE/
WE DONT SAY SUCH WORDS..JUS TO SHOCK U/

[BHLAKHROZE]

- STILLNESS SPEAKS -

the shape of life in ebb and flow
and they may yet return to the shore
the now, ever, only
a stillness that speaks
drawing on
pulling in

listening.


...spirit moves...

[BHLAKHROZE]

this is a poem by this painfully shy guy called stuart, the kind of person who has something to say but would never say a thing. so his poems never see the light of day. i thought this was nice. true.

and hindsight is a mofo.


we might be happy and speak of it
beneath the blankets, had we met
reaching for a single gla**
(instead you lit a cigarette).
or if you'd trodden on my feet
while shuffling in a shopping line
and then, amidst apologies,
you'd said your name or i had mine
(instead i stopped to look at teddy bears
as you decided to go).

i lie alone another day
and what you do i do not know.

[the brand®]

thro the crystals/
Isaw it quit clear /
how could i get the the wrong message?
they never wanted me here/
had to face the fact...Im not at home here/
Im leaving and i aint coming back.../
a child lost...u can sence it on a track/
the dark is a friend... the light reveels the pain...

* to be continued*

[BHLAKHROZE]

- IN THE FIRST PERSON (for ntozake shange) -

and from my particular window on the world, i dont know a poem.

i dont know a poem that can take it away

i dont know a poem that could make it not matter, make it untrue
as she remains, with strength, weaving painful looms and singing the blues

but nobody is listening

i dont know a poem birthed in me that could find itself and speak, the words just weep
they go back, unearth and remember them, walk with them,
look in the mirror and share their silence
i am you and you are me

i dont know a poem that could level the playing fields
fields littered with souls, the scores
these be our sores
tired eyes that wont leave the floor

no, i dont know a poem.

i dont know a poem that could shine its light on you
be a voice, that hasnt too,
tasted the whiskey of the scar of pigment
that didnt dull its thinking, back bent under the shadow of this mountain - on the rocks, with a slice lemon - of this present, missing narrative
that hasnt tasted the frustration in your explanations
i am afraid i know what you mean, i am afraid

and i am ashamed, i would now give you me
but these are just words, a hue of indigo
so i light a candle for you
for i do not know a poem

i do not know a place, there has been no space and
i wonder if there will ever be a time
when i dont have it in me to lament anymore, as any of those who already know

then i dont know a poem that hasnt been said before

i dont know a poem.

for the black woman.

[the brand®]

I dont care anymore.
Criticise! Till u turn blue in the face/
I got an axe n im cutting through the maze/
The stress u put me through was not a phaze/
Scard my chest for life- but ima shut ht down like Onyx/
Put a tatoo on it/
Never liked it when i was honest/
Started cursing! Using words like GODAMN/
Turnd back on my clan/
Couldnt understand who i am/
Couldnt even execpt it/
And i couldnt lie about it/
Hell is home n im searching for heaven/
A happy place- a haven/
To bring light to these poems written/TBC

[BHLAKHROZE]

- THE SPIRIT OF THE OLD ONES -

i salute these messengers between worlds
read what they will write and hear what theyve tried to say
that which is theirs, we inherit and we give away

i salute these messengers between worlds
innocent of truth and yet the scarred

the waves that start way out
somewhere in the ocean
where you cant see

they rupture the surface evenly
from way out they are irresistable. a**ured.
bubbling they set new tide marks
whispering
they complete and sink
to leave the beach shining
and reflect the opposite

a tender sky.

[BHLAKHROZE]

- A MERMAID REMEMBERS: DAWN -

the honey of my hopes of love is golden
it shimmers into the shine of this beginning
wet with the taste of promise
the dance is fluid
unfolds
falls   
into steady rhythms that sway
tomorrow gives way

eyes open.

[TY-D-CPT-021-NKE]

i figure if i can rap i can poem it too...

it twas a cars house but now i call it my home
4walls each stained with the memory of winters rain
leaving inprints of lines of longitude
but makes lifes lines of latidude more dificult
still i pray for relief like victims of war and famin
the tears of nations in a drop of my own
the wrath of the man sitting on the thrown
both kind and harsh if only we could learn
if only we were open minded life would
be easier

[BHLAKHROZE]

on thoughts the colour of pearls...

- ZINTLE: NDLELA LEYO ENGENAGAMA -

linxeba olusuku, linxeba

sis'khalo solwimi lasek'qaleni

lundikha ngaphaya kokuqonda
linxeba
yimfihlo yezulu elizoqhekeka sisodwa
kuyosa kusile
olu usuku

ehla amafu
iliso lanovalo
labetha ilizwi lobomi
kwath'ekuthuleni
kwaphela amandla
aphela amandla

zawa iingcinga oku kweenyembezi
ntlungu wena wasoloko ukhangelana necebo

uhambile ke njalo
sashiyeka ke thina, neentliziyo zethu ezigobekileyo
siluthuthu leminyaka
sixhase ngeentonga zethu, zijonge phambili

ndlela leyo engenagama

uzuthi apho uvukekhona
us'khumbule.

[Nar8iv]

I write. and I give back to myself.

i think i might be able to write again.
anybody still live here?
some beautiful / scary / emotive / funny thoughts in here since my last contribution ....

may i ?

[BHLAKHROZE]

I write. and I give back to myself.

- THE LIGHT BY NIGHT -

there is life here.

by night
in the warmth of candlelight
i pen myself
i go wrong until i come right
i write and write and write

and open the way to my heart

and you meet me for the first time.

may i ?

WRITE.

[The Mighty Loks]

I write. and I give back to myself.

- THE LIGHT BY NIGHT -

there is life here.

by night
in the warmth of candlelight
i pen myself
i go wrong until i come right
i write and write and write

and open the way to my heart

and you meet me for the first time.

may i ?

WRITE.

BR... I envy you.. You write, you write and you write. I wish I had the time and the energy, It's become so much easier to just dream of writing and I've just accepted that. I wish I could just do it, just over come whatever it is that's preventing me from writing.
It's always so refreshing to read your pieces. Makes me feel so nostalgic.
One day I'll pick up that pen again.

[Sosiba]

Oh well, here goes

Her smile echoing in my sight memory
A voice instrumental to a sweet melody
Soft lips and chicks that seemed they'd forever be rosy
Hands soft and finger tips that sent that please call me
Thinking about her, I smile bitterly
For she stamped her self in my memory

She's seen more dicks than a circumcission surgeon
Been to many a guy's bed and def got laid
Wet behind my ears she dried me with a hurricane
Her flashbacks haunting my mistress driving me insane
A whore faced like a queen should not be loved
Yet i did love her, damn her for that felony

[BHLAKHROZE]

BR... I envy you.. You write, you write and you write. I wish I had the time and the energy, It's become so much easier to just dream of writing and I've just accepted that. I wish I could just do it, just over come whatever it is that's preventing me from writing.
It's always so refreshing to read your pieces. Makes me feel so nostalgic.
One day I'll pick up that pen again.

hello babes

how are you? how was your birthday party. did they buy you lots of presents and spoil you and stuff.

just keep writing baldi thats all i can say. just keep writing. that one line. those 4 pieces. those 2 chapters. on napkins. in the margins of books you shouldnt be scrawling on. the walls. accept is as it comes and goes but capture in your dreamcatcher of self whatever comes. sometimes its one line for months. you know how it is. but those little bits and pieces, you wake up one day and youve got a body of work. some of these pieces are old babes. kept. and thankfully i did. so many i thought were worth only for tossing. i didnt even know i could write you know. its the big joke.

i never have the time. and i never have the energy. it just happens. dont think it. dont will it. just listen. and that is all. i swear to you. sometimes i have nothing to say for ages. when im like well thats it then, screeching halt on that idea. catch me walking in corners searching for silence. like where did they go, where did they go. but its not about sweeping moments of inspiration you build on one liners. just those one liners stored. and you have your entire book. if you can still get a one liner you alive.

its like those irritating sayings. but really, the only way to write is to write. its how you learn but most importantly its how you begin to hear your voice.

all you have to do is make the time to listen. give yourself over. fall in love.


please come around sometime, it gets lonely here. merry go rounding by myself.
xxx