In the event of my death
I dream of dreams
that tell me stories
of things to come.
I close my eyes to
sleep and see nothing
except...
on days when
messages of the
unknown are passed
to me.
I dreamt a dream
where you left me and I
wept.. It never occured
to me that when the messages
come alive they are not
like they were when my
eyes were closed.
I realized now that you
will wait, whether from
obligation or hurt, before
you let yourself embrace
again.
The words; secrets lying
untold hidden amongst
pages and words written
on my body never
escaping my lips hang
there. I care more than
the word cares itself.
The distance is there. I feel
it when I open my eyes
to look at you when you hold
me. I hear it in my voice
when I speak to you.
That tremble I felt
holding you holding me,
those tears I cried
without you ever noticing
fall again now.
I'm glad to have known
you. I didn't open my
heart to you completely
because someone once
said these things happen
over time.
This though I do not
have because I realise
you sitting there
with me. When you leave
me sitting in that
coffeeshop; you have
been sitting with
me for a while.
I realize now that
when I pass on
the fingerprints of
my laugh, my eyes,
my hands barely fitting
yours, my smile,
the things that pass and
matter to us will remain
etched in your memory,
you who holds only
what matters, I hope I do.
I dreamt I was
amongst a sea of faces
lexicology.
I write to express opinion whether it be driven by experience, observing people or the world around me. I live through music, words and the small unnoticed things in life that people usually see much later in that experience. Free verse where I allow the words to fall like they wish, the way that makes them real is the manner in which I approach my writing. I write when the urge and my muse come together,I allow my thoughts, ideas and life to guide me instead of forcing myself to write.
About Me
Followers
Tuesday, August 31, 2010
Tuesday, May 25, 2010
Monday, May 24, 2010
Photo-shoot for the radio show - Weekend Breakfast on UCT Radio 104.5FM 6-9AM Saturdays and Sundays where I am a news reader / co-host... This is the whole Breakfast gang; Myself (Boipelo Seswane), Mike Mpofu the DJ, Andrew Gilliam sports news reader and Carla De Souza music feature lady... Places the idea of knowing that I'm doing something right in a clear perspective. They say success is only as close as you want it to be and from where I am I imagine it far closer than even I can see it, funny story... Oprah once said that one needs to dream big because the only person that can dream way huger than you is God... She was quite right I think. If you limit yourself to just what society feels you should have you will obviously get just below that so if you go all out then you will reach for only the best in everything you do... All I'm saying is things are looking mighty fine from where I'm standing and not even my height will get in the way of the awesome things that await me Just saying... But otherwise soppiness aside... WATCH THIS SPACE!
Photography by: Thaheer Mullins (2010)
Model: Boipelo Seswane
Saturday, May 22, 2010
Swirl.
Memory reached and asked me
to remember you.
I see it now, clear as baby
Blue eyes.
My clothes at the floor,
I had found the piece
Of me that said yes when
Told no.
Inhibitions cast out,
Wrapped in the warmth
Of the sun…
Swirl, I did, down
And deep. Rapture
Through me, around
Me…
When the tide comes in
I hope it brings me
back because the
sea scares me.
Swirl me around wave.
Then return me to land.
To the place I know best.
I opened my eyes and
Am greeted by you
Blue sky. The swirl
As we lay, hands clasped
And hearts telling a story.
We found unknown
To ourselves and memory
That this music
Would lead to that kiss.
Finding all sense of memory
In the kiss
It is all there, Our story
Told but unknown
Capital to our sense of music
Where beats are clasped.
Maybe it didn’t sound like music
When you first found the story
Amongst the pages clasped
Together by ideas, memory
Where only the unknown
Knew to look and kiss.
The idea of your memory
In the kiss
Warm, real, my music
Is reborn even as unknown
As it is. My story
Will be found and clasped.
Even within the secrets of music
I could not hide my story
Hard as I tried in memory
To keep it clasped
In my thought unknown
To your lips, your kiss.
Its out now, the story
Death was far as you clasped
my hand in yours and kiss
me once again. unknown
to others is our memory
of the beat of our music.
Indeed time stands no chance in the story
Where our kiss took place. Clasped in our memory
Forever to be music unknown.
Image by: Boipelo Seswane (2009)
Model: Boipelo Seswane
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