Like Being Dead Inside


It's like stone

Being dead inside

There's only hard cold twisting

In the depths of my null

I feel like warmth is a stranger

Where bitterness resides

I can't stop wondering when

I'll believe in sunshine

Because right now

It's like being dead inside

I don't even want for the effort

Of breathing and speaking

Certainly not loving

You're making it hard to try

So right now

It's like a wrenching pain

A knife in my heart

Where dreams used to be

Because I think that we've found

Of our end

It's like being dead inside

Like having no tears to cry

I'm dead inside

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groen vingers koester

die kwesbare kern -

die purpervrug

wat stil voed op die weemoed

van die halfsonlig

'n deuntjie word gerepeteer:


onmiskenbaar in mineur

gee aan die groen

kleurkoester terug

viooltjie-vrou:  die dag word grou

viooltjie-vrou:  ek skryf vir jou

Author's Notes/Comments: 

...'n persoonlike troosversie vir myself ...

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my uitgangspunt is pers getint

ligroos lila blou en pers:

variante van dieselfde vers ...

ontwortel van die tyd se gang

en in verlang se gerf gevang

die hemel van die maagdeblom

of dahlia se pers pompom

blou beurtspel van die bosliefie

koringblom en pronkertjie

die hiasint ontvou sy string

heliotroop se pers skakering sing

oor my heimwee se bont afgrond:

my uitgangspunt is pers getint ...

Author's Notes/Comments: 

... selfs 'n roos word soms maar broos; verander dan in 'n bosliefie ...

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Echoing Feeling!!

When will it end?

When will it be gone?

But why won?t it stop

The tears

The sorrow

The guilt

I feel it echoing in my head

It keeps reminding me

Can I stop it

Or can you stop it

I pray for it to end

But no hope

No joy

No peace

Just on and on

Why don?t other people hear it

Or is it just me

Why won?t it go far, far away?

Or is it just meant to be this way

To give me pain and misery

Why not peace

Or hope

Or love

Or even joy

Author's Notes/Comments: 

I like this peom a lot b/c it has a lot of feeling and emotion all in one!  I hope you enjoy like i did writing it!!

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A feeling that is hard to describe!

Something that you fear,

When you are scared!


Makes your heart race!

Because you know what you have done!

When you are scared,

You are nerves!

And you don't want anyone to ask you questions,

Because you are scared!

Sometimes it hurts,

Because you are so scared to get in trouble,

Because you knew what you did was wrong!

But why do we have this feelings,

Which hurts,

Because sometimes it makes u cry,



Scared is something that you can never describe!

I just hate it,

And wish it would go away!

Far away!

Author's Notes/Comments: 

I'm scared right now, so I made this poem, but I'm nerves, and Scared!  But I hope to get over it, I hope you like this poem!

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1>   if there ever was a moment,

that you knew i existed, why

couldn't you send them to me?

2>   you never told me that

you were better than me,

why let me believe in my lie?

3>   such sadness and longing

i know i am here, but you

forget and i turn inside myself

and pretend

such sadness and longing

i know i am here.


Author's Notes/Comments: 

just these late night thoughts.
what the hell am i doing here?

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the roads of hit and miss


others tell me how it feels

but it can't feel like this

they can't remeber the fevered touch

or every forgotten kiss

they say they feel the sadness

but they can't feel the shame

as every memory returns

to burden up the blame

names lost in the rubble of life

ignorant actions made in haste

so many things i can't take back

of the life i chose to taste

stuck in the decisions of yesterday

feeling dirty from the touch

living life at rock star speed

and caught in the sinner's clutch

other may say they know how it feels

but it can't sting like this

only i know the evils i've done

on the roads of hit and miss

Author's Notes/Comments: 

"You don't get to choose how you are going to die. Or when. You can only decide how you're going to live. Now." -Joan Baez

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Spark In A Cesspool

Sully your blank pages with obscene grace

With fevered imagination with verbal cattleprods

With blatent philosophy meekly abhorrant visions

Of fragrant cruel lies of asphyxiating truths

Carry the screms inside your heart to fester

And ferment until they ripen into foul verse

And until the stubble of a poem grows thick

On your public face on your devil's tongue

Fully expose yourself to the fatal doubt that flows

Over pages of our bloody yesterdays always in debt

Over braced confused sensitive gawkers-at-art

Until your wrists bleed odes forever into the void

Wary of blissful empty verse you spin mutilated words

Onto your canvase of degradation and mirth

Onto the cheeks of deaf rose angerchildren

For nothing explodes as well as inkstained ghosts

Author's Notes/Comments: 

This is, believe it or not, a poem about writers block.  Gha!!!

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Why do I feel others pain and stress?

Is God putting me through some selfless test?

Why do I see the fate of some and all they squander?

It comsumes my thoughts I pray, worry and ponder.

Why do I see most, what they should hold dearly?

Then watch them deny what they should see clearly?

Why do I see colors in people to be dark and deep,

Although happy in appearence inside they weep?

Why do I know truly the secrets they hold

when all truth in their eyes show all truth to be told?

Why do they think there past sins seal their fate?

When believing in yourself is the key to fates gate.

Why do they sell their soul for temporary affection?

When they should save up for affection in their own


Why do they run from their issues at hand?

When they should openly welcome the gifts of God's

greater plan.


Author's Notes/Comments: 

Sometimes you have to lose everything to get anything. I began to see , really see all people. It's incredible!!

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