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Tag: Journey

Alone

Tomorrow brings another day
Alone, world weary, without hope.
My cares lie heavy,
My thoughts in turmoil, torment me.
Another day without you I suffer.
My sorrow fills my aching heart.
My cup of loneliness overflows.
I call out your name,
Silence answers me,
It’s repression surrounds me,
Darkness enfolds me,
In the distance a light I see,
Could it be my salvation?

15/05/1990

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At Swartmodder – II

The corrugated roof cracks and moans
In the still midday heat
No breeze breaks this spell
Of shimmering mirage
On the rock strewn ridges
The cows gather lazily
Under the few shade trees
Scattered scantily about
This strange, hot landscape

I lie, exhausted, sweaty
Under this groaning roof
And feel all nature
Press in upon me
Hot, humid, overpowering
The crickets shrill shriek
Arises from their hidden roosts
Piercing this eerie silent Hades
Into which I have wearily journeyed

16/02/1991

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I am just

I am just a simple man,
A man who doesn’t always say the right thing,
Who doesn’t always know the right thing to do.
A man who cannot always express himself
Like a gifted speaker
Who sometimes stops
And starts when saying something.
Whose words sometimes like torrents flow forth.
A man whose emotions sometimes overwhelm him
And then like a fool degrades himself
Before those for whom he cares
And forever he then carries a burden of guilt
Of some imagined wrong.

I am just a stupid man,
Who doesn’t always see that someone cares.
Who feels a numbness for the outside world,
And an emptiness within.
Who doesn’t believe that love exists,
For him, only others.
Never for methat simple happiness
Of love requited.

I am just a wanting man,
Crying out for someone to care.
A lonely voice it seems to me,
For no-one answers.
Am I alone?
And you, will you heed my call?
Please.

15/05/1990

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When in the rebellion of mens eyes

When in the rebellion of mens eyes I am alone,
I have a warmth inside that gives me life.
When in the hatred of men’s thoughts I am in danger,
I have no fear for you are with me.
When in the anger of men’s fears I suffer without sound,
I feel no anguish for you strengthen me.
When in the blackness of men’s hearts I stumble blindly,
I worry not for you are there to guide me.
When in the dungeon of men’s dreams I am a captive,
I am in peace for your love frees me.

26/08/1989

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For Many Years Have I

For many years have I
Alone wandered
On the uneven path
Of my life
While the darkness devoured me
And my fears assailed me
And my guilt besieged me
I would cry on the wind
But no-one heard
I would scream to the stars
But no-one cared
I would shout to the emptiness
But no-one came
And on I walked
Isolated
Desolate
Scared
Scarred
Longing for the greater night
To overwhelm my tired soul
And end the pain

07/02/2018

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At Swartmodder – I

Moon shining down
Upon a lunar landscape
Of reds and browns and pinks and blacks and greys and greens
Shimmering in the heat
Of a thousand ovens

Quiver trees stand guard
Over vast emptinesses
Of sand and rock
Hot, burning my hands
As I stoop and touch their barrenness,
Their wildness and their loneliness

I feel as if I am alone
With this landscape
Nothing exists but us
Both blown by the same hot winds
Both scorched by the same hot sun
Is there any reality but ours?
15/02/1991

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Come the day

It’s ten to six in the morning
A cold, cold morning
Travel through the haze
Of half sleep
Returning to hateful wakefulness
And with it
Another day
Maps itself out
In full bloody detail
Before me

Roll off the bed
Hit the floor
Trying to wake up
Failing
Eyelids glued together
Won’t come unstuck
A thousand deserts
In my mouth
Stumble to the bathroom
To shave
If I don’t cut my throat first
By mistake

Brush my teeth
Up, down
Up, down
Brush
Not head

That fuzzy thing in the mirror
Is that me?
Hell, I look rabid
Maybe I am
I feel it

Dress
In what?
Something from the heap
On the floor
Something clean
Well
At least something
That doesn’t smell too bad

Breakfast
Something floating
In my bowl
Oh, it’s cornflakes
I think
It’s so full of iron
I could rust

Go to work
Car won’t start
Kick the damn thing
Sit behind the wheel
Hitting my head
On its hard rim
Start
For fuck sakes, start!

Sit behind my desk
All day
Papers pass before my eyes
Unread
Unheeded
Unwanted
Oh please let me die!

Glance at the clock
Ten more minutes
Until parole time
A bloated blurry body
Dumps more papers on my desk
‘These are important’ it bleats
As I try not to kill them

Finally I am finished
It is dark outside
I sit in the car praying
To the gods of starter motors
Cough, cough, whirr, BANG!
Well I guess that counts as starting
Shit! The fuel light is on

Get home, open the door
What should I eat
Whatever is in the fridge
Whatever isn’t green and furry
Should I cook it?
No why bother

Sit down
In front of the TV
A talking head is asking
Whether I have had an accident at work
Hell
My whole being is an accident
Can I get compensation?

Turn the taps
Of an arthritic shower
Waiting for the water
To go from freezing
To almost lukewarm
Now where’s the soap

It is way past midnight
As I hit the bed
With a sickening thump
Of head on pillow
Crawl under the sheet
And pull it tight
And hope
The nightmares don’t come again

Repeat…

18/09/2000

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A Homecoming

Suburban walls, suburban gardens,
Suburban bricks
Confront me
A decade on
So much has changed
Behind my suburban exterior
Am I as unrecognisable
As the scene before me?
As cold, as hard, as bleak?
So much changed
Beneath the same shell
Like these houses and shops
Am I, like them,
Decaying,
Rotting from within?
Have these ten long and weary years
So etched their pain
Into the very stones of my soul
That I may never return
To what I was?
But if I could
Would I?
Have I endured the torturing winds
And tormenting rains
For nothing?
Have I watched them erode my hard exterior
And expose my raw and bloody flesh
To the tempestuous elements
Just to say
“It is right,
Right to suffer so”?
No, no I will not
But stand and shout
At my new found strength
Swept clean by those who seek to hurt
And once more return
Return to this suburbia
Unlike those around
In their safe suburban lives
A newcomer
Returning to my fathers’ land
To these
Suburban walls, suburban gardens,
Suburban bricks

13/07/1990

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