Seperated

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Spiritual but not religious

That’s what she wrote on her profile page

She was pretty

Thin in the saddle,  but enough meat on the hinges

Perky nipples turned up to the moon

And so they are

A hundred million beautifull stars

And a Million miles away

Like

Rory Gallagher

Of recent edit, the ‘about  part of the page read different

Some added information

Now we read  ‘  Separated but not divorced’

Like so many of mankind She was possible also now

All dressed up with nowhere

To go

hold my hand

Holding a hand

And a hand holding ours

Isn’t that what  we  wanted ?

Maybe not?

Yet we could not do it

We could not be saved

For us there can be no salvation

We were eaten up by trivialities

We had to run errands … there was no time for feelings

We had to pay  bills

& Our family got angry and upset

How could we be so impractical

 

 

 

at night

@ Night i have wished  – – –

Desired a touch

And imagined an intimacy,

An intimacy that I tried to explain, but i never quite got it right

Never could explain my beauty to the world

I threw the baby with the bathwater over the cliff

And

I possible bored those who were stuck with me

@ the time

Lucky for them nothing lasts forever,

And paths would split, just as they crossed some time before

But it is strange;

How we are

We swear we will be loving,

And decent – If only our love would be acknowledged, and reciprocated

We swear high and low

We sing karaoke

Drink full glasses of wine

And then;

We trample every last pearl into the mud where pigs do not even shit

 

wish we were different

When you dead

Some you loved won’t even show up(to pay the supposed last respect’s)

Others you didn’t even know will though(show up)

They ll come for the free biscuits, and to see if there is any free and available pussy

Funerals are a sad affair

Mostly because everyone knows the one lying dead in the coffin,

Wasn’t such a great guy

In fact he might have been a real dick

But you hardly ever would hear the truth at a funeral

A funeral is similar in some regard to a wedding

Full of lying speech. At a wedding the mood is better

At a funeral some second rate pastor or preacher is going to use the time to get his message to the assembly

It borders on bad taste. It crosses the line actually.

It pretends the sinner in the coffin is going straight up, all his crooked deeds, and foul play now apparently forgiven

Yet the pastor must rub our noses in “our sins”

He must use this opportunity of death to get to us

There is  a part that always stays the same …

When the beloved departed were hanging on a ball hair’s breath … We were just so busy

But now ohhh, now we all care

And  FB is full of ‘ we r praying for you’

 

 

 

 

what hasn’t been said?

What hasn’t been said?

what has not been said better than I, or you are going to say it?

And yet,

There is likewise an endless supply of nonsense being uttered –

(And as long as there are humans around thats going to be the case)

Our supposed Leaders are the worst of the worst

Or the best at raping the language to insult us

They are the best at stealing

The best at being calculated

And recently the best at not giving a damn about what they are ‘caught out doing’ either

The Old regime had a touch more of a guilty conscious ,

And ‘They’ tried at least to hide a lot off their sins’

But the current lot are openly deviant

They have embraced the jacket of Payback

Arranging things, so it may benefit themselves, and their cronies

And the icing on the cake is that White guilt is at an all time high(here in SA).

 

The majority of the population will still go and vote next there is an election

&

Our beloved Politicians will say anything to get themselves into the pound seats.

False promises thrown to the dupes

They are better than secondhand car salesmen, when it comes to lying.

Off course one may conclude, that in many countries people do not vote for a worthwhile Party,

They merely vote for the second worst one

Trying to keep the big sharks away.

Hoping that the little sharks(when/and if they get elected) won’t take too many,

Or too big a bite out of Our jelly baby asses

So it is all quite hopeless you see!

It is possible best just to shut up about it?

But,

Then one gets carried away sometimes,

As one does

I too am deviant

Maybe that is my unforgivable sin?

 

 

 

 

 

 

Elvis left third avenue

we had a connection of some type

we swore high and low

we snorted coke and dressed up

went looking for ourselves on winter nights

we ended up at Mavericks, we ended up in bars

and i phone with the sat phone from Iraq

And he d pick me up at the airport

We d smoke a joint on Boyes drive

We d go to the Polana

I d sit in the corner whilst he worked the room

The we d leave around the wary morning hours

Sometimes we d have a dinner at his house

We d listen to music, and I d talk

I d spill my milk, and soul

And we d listen to Elvis Costello

 

something unatainable

For a long time

Longer than I can say, and longer than I can remember

I had a feeling

A thought

That there was something  … Someone  worthwhile

But before long I d start shouting

And shouting was one of the things that they all hated about me … ” You shout” she would say …”You shout at me” they would say … Do not shout ! She ‘d shout back at me!

I d always end up defending myself by saying that I did not  mean to shout … That I were just excited … That because of ‘the moment’ & frustration the decibels where dispatched

But that answer never did it … never got me off the hook

And that would be the time they(all) would highwaymen the moral high ground

And that then would make me angry all over again …

 

Continue reading

How I loved the Love idea

As time marches on

One must accept

Certain things

Even about oneself

I could not keep quite once I started

And it was difficult for other people to handle it … me

Off course I can now come up with another defensive answer

” I wanted to be clear, and present

I wanted you to understand where I was hovering

I was amongst the crazy ones

On the periphery

an Outcast of some sort

But I had the love idea

I thought of myself as something special

Off course everyone think they are special, so in that way I was just as ordinary as the rest

But I left Christianity, and before that I was already called names

I didn’t leave the idealism, as my brother said

And sentimentality thicker than cow shit stuck to my pallet

No salt nor honey would rid my throat of this virus

Out of my trap, I could not stop it …

The more I aimed for the dartboard the further from midships I hit

In my late thirties to mid forties … I reached the peak of my stupidity

Hunting love worse than a bowhunter dressed in Under Armour

But I never even saw Miss Piggy, not even

Once