Cotton filled mouth
Cotton filled head
Lids drooping South
Eyes filled with lead

Coffee’s too sweet
Lights are too bright
My sleeps incomplete
My head’s dynamite

I’ll sip and I’ll stare
Between here and there.
And pull on my smoke
Coz it’s just one big joke

Three.
   “It’s too high” I wailed.
   “Jump” she said from the crystal pool.
   “I can’t I’m scared.”
   “I’m here” she cooed “I’ll catch you.”
I did and she did.  

Seven
   “I don’t want to” I kicked
   “Go” she said from the cars window.
   “No, it’s lame”
   “I’ll be here when you’re finished”
I went and she was

Sixteen
   “I can’t” I frustrated
   “ It’s easy” she said from over my shoulder
   “No, it’s stupid”
   “I’ll help, let me show you”
I tried and she taught

Twenty One
   “I want to” I planned
   “You can” she said from inside the phone
   “But, it’s so far”
   “I’m a call away, I’m proud of you”
I went and she was.

Twenty Five
   “I’m scared” she said
   “It will be fine” I reassured from the hospital chair
   “But it isn’t good”
   “Im here for you, the meds will work”
She believed and they didn’t

Twenty Seven
   “It’s over” she whispered
   “I know” I sobbed from the foot of the bed
   “It’s my time to leave”
   “It’s been a rough two years, you can rest now”
She did and I crumbled

Thirty Two
   “I’m hurting” I thought
   “....”
   “I have to be strong”
   “....”
So I try because she watches

One syllable,
three measly letters
And lifetimes of happiness.

The greatest smiles are come from it
The happiest tear is shed
It’s utterance can make you JUMP and LEAP and TWIRL and SPIN or...
Or burst hearts sealed in lead.

And lifetimes of happiness
Three measly letters
One syllable.
Yes.

I met an unfriendly parrot
I can’t blame him really. He lived in a cage
He stood there and squawked
Screaming displeasure at all who passed.
Staring balefully at sunburnt tourists
Asking if polly wants a *******
He doesn’t want a ****** single one.

I did find out what he liked.
Completely by accident.
Turns out he likes songs,
Click songs, because
“The white people cannot say Qongqothwane”

I’d love to write something clever and witty
To capture the essence of Dr Suess in a ditty
But try as I might, the words don’t take flight
And the whole thing just sounds kind of ******

I walk by a garden that’s not mine.
Not everyday, but less than I’d want.
It has a flower blossoming right by the gate.

It’s petals are green.  They sparkle with dew.
Bright and glowing at all times of the night and day.

It’s face is fire. Crackling and warm, a beacon to lost souls and small animals. Warming pieces of people that were unknowingly frozen.

It’s stem is lithe. Twisting, gently curving its way up to the sun. Strong enough to hold its head up and not bow to the wind.

It’s roots, enigma. I do not know how deep they go. But I’d be willing to try find find a *** big enough to hold them all stretched out.

I’d wish to have such perfection in my garden.
I’ve tried placing beauty in it, to no avail.
I once even planted a pretty **** with thorns and spikes. It didn’t last either.
Perhaps my land is salted.