mostly

mostly it just doesn't mean anything to me.
But it's funny.
And somewhat engaging.
Just don't ask me to take stuff seriously.

People die.
People cry.
But they're ok.
They're alive.

And loving every second.

the naked envy of lust

a transparent, gelatinous flower blossoms in my heart:
fear,
when i consider myself in the eyes of those i wish to keep near.

often life amongst people is difficult and I am clumsy.
while others have laboured to make it look easy,
i've remained clumsy.

but mediocrity murders those it comforts
like when i don't see the questions to my answers
and my answer is to go alone

trapped in my own mind like only the vain can be
isolated by what i know
all i can do is grow
and from the people i love accept each bone they throw.

and sometimes i write a poem.

Stick to weed

So I'm four beers and a quarter of a joint through when I stumble upon the "stick to weed" campaign concept. Right there. In my own mind. Staring at me like an angry tiger. Crazy huh? Anyway, so "Stick to Weed" is the slogan and the idea is to prevent drug abuse. Drugs dull the senses. Or rather confuse the sensual balance but. Thats what drugs do. This dulling may even induce synestheasia that manifest as hallucinations. But weed is the safest of them all. And we all sometimes feel the need to escape this terrible awareness. We sometimes need the sensual dullness. It helps us see different aspects of our own reality. It does. But too much sensual dullness leads to a horrible fate: social dysfunctionality... (what with us all being social creatures and all). Social affirmation is the food of the soul. Don't ever lose it. Even day to day, month to month employment becomes a drug that dulls the senses. Don't let it. Strive to be more than you were yesterday. Not by anyone's standards but your own. Build on the lessons of yesterday. And if you're gonna use drugs to dull the beautiful, decadent, hectic richness of life for a moment just to catch a breath and remember yourself in the maelstrom, then just stick to weed. Weed will do that for you without the drama of social dysfuntionality. The other drugs need special training. Which for the most part we do not have access to. So yeah. Stick to weed.

happiness is...

wondering what the people you love most think of you... and liking the answer...

you were looking for me?

The world is definitely looking for me.
And here I am.
Unsure of myself and unsure of the premise...
But quite sure it is okay to be unsure.

So whats the plan?
I dont want to be the leader, you know...
Just the reminder.
I'm the irritating guy who keeps saying: hey, remember the mission:

standardise
synchronise
realise
culturalise

the urge

i constantly live with the vague urge to put my penis inside select orifices of beautiful women. this is hard to
a) fulfill and
b) justify.

the solution i have chosen is to find one pretty girl and always put my penis in her when the need arises. love is supposed to be the glue that holds this contract together.

but love is cheap in cosmopolitan life.

Who will save me?

So here I am, trying to save the world. I go to sleep plotting the road to utopia and scheming how to widen it enough to take everyone with. I know the work will be grueling. It will test the stuff I'm made of. It will break me down then build me up then break me down again. But I know the work must be done. By me. Because if you ask who is to do it, then you might as well do it yourself, right?
And so here I am.
Trying to save the world.
But a little voice in me persists in asking "Who will save me?" Who will listen to me cry? Who will know the story of my heart? Whose eyes will I seek out when I triumph? Will I seek them out so eagerly when I fail?
It is at times like this that I understand why religion is such a comfort. For what I am asking for is usually the realm of God.
But I know you are out there, looking for me, ntomb'enhle.
I think I need you now. Find me already.