The-Black-Book-free-download-x300px“See me: Listen to my heartbeat; patter, patter, patter. Feel my breath; stale, moist, growing fatter. Taste my lips; blood-soft and salty sips. Hear my thoughts; cultured, vulture fought.”

My poetry attempts to reflect the depth of human emotion, action and reaction (especially mine). There’s glimpses of light but, admittedly, they’re more like the sun teasing a prisoner in a small, muddy hole – such was how i felt as a young adult, the period that spawned most of these dark scribbles. It gave me insight into myself and people, travelling me to where, thankfully, i’m a much happier person through the appreciation of small and great beauties.

From hitchhiking in my younger days, searching for the heart of South Africa, Man and myself, to my experiences in the music scene, i realized that dark isn’t always evil but simply as much part of us as light. Fulfilled hopes and dreams are twins of their shattered selves. In a world hiding from itself, Truth is what counts. It’s the only road to the the salvation of acceptance.

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The Black Book for free

Love, sexual abuse, beatings, hope, murder, suicide, apathy, sympathy, tears, smiles and mental diseases may scream from The Black Book but please note that words are NOT always literal, sometimes just dark similes and metaphors for the painful tearing of oneself and others.

Here are extracts…

Dreams are my blanket, love-lost my sheet,
my body an extortion of fleshy thought
What grade of thunder writes these words?
We’re all undone, only numbers crying to be number one
I stab my tongue through the lips of this world
whilst armies whisper inside of me…

The mind a lick of all to come,
the wormy fear is bidden,
the unwritten diary undone…

It’s night and the lights are out
Raggedy Anne, pleeasse hold my hand
Hide beneath the covers
SSSH – don’t make a noise
Be very still
We mustn’t let the Boogey Man know that we’re here
or he’ll come and touch me in a horrible way
Raggedy Anne,
you’re my bestest friend
Did i do something wrong?
Oh! Oh!
He’s back and it smells like he’s been naughty
He’s stolen Daddy’s aftershave again…

Do you intend to make me commitment’s host,
make me laugh and cry,
make me walk and talk with ghosts,
love me and leave me to die?
Or is it?
a succumbing to the slavering of your tongue,
to have your thighs writhe in panting time
and your nails to claw for blood,
have your waterhole filled only to drown me deep in it
“Love” you reply
Did your mother forget to teach you
that love is a myth and the reality of myth is pain?

Awoke this evening to a wicked world wild,
gave my daily prayer to rock ‘n roll
and drowned my tongue with beer
Maybe today’s the date to die,
lovingly enveloped in a lover’s skin…

…now is never
and the future is now
and i’m fucking frightened
by the biggest dreams
that are raped of ambition,
inactivity, pointless activity,
and the possible love of a breast…

My mind would’ve seen you if my eyes were blind;
the snatches of lipped smile and shouting breasts
arresting me to the sexual swatting of fly
and the ill-confident prayer for a mounting music
where you and i compose the life and crowd
Introduce rituals expected and enacted
Exhibition saddles the safe of inhibition
so that i’m visiting within you and you in me
Discoveries in sweaty adult worded nothings
granted respect by fleshy objects with strings…

The deafer i become,
the louder your voice inside my head
Memory is more vicious than death
Seeing beauty, saddens me
so much that i paint the world ugly
In the grey eternity,
poems of hurting are labelled pretty…

Awake the dead
That’s me
Not a victim or a sinner
Just a one in six billion part
of this wicked world’s side…

What did we learn?
Maybe that earning forgiveness
is more sincere than expecting it
and secrets are little deaths
desiring growth into monsters
Who told you that thought was silent?
There’s a dead jesus inside us
and a satan begging for the fall
When the heart doesn’t hold,
the mind falls apart, apart, apart…

She is Indecision
I am her Incision
We are the King and Queen of fantascene
I am Her and She is Me,
kissing cogs in an emotional war machine
And we can Live
or Die wondering
Where is Here?
Where is Here?

Only the city knows
for i’ve spoken to it
in those dark and special hours
when it’s conscious to stormy hearts…

Click here to download
The Black Book for free