Rainy Days Within

“Life is surely the greatest and most drastic of gifts”, that’s what Daniel told his son on that late September fishing trip they used to take every year. At first, Jake looked up at his old man in clueless awe. Had he measured those words 12 years earlier, then maybe he would have taken his father into more consideration before his prostate succumbed to the infestation of bacteria caused by years of neglect. Looking through his penthouse window in downtown Chicago, Jake watched the rain shatter down into the local park causing the newly placed soil to gather into muddy patches while he took a sip of his favourite Irish whiskey. He could almost imagine the stain it would leave on his brand-new Indian tribal rug, had he taken exactly seven minutes longer at the office. Mr. Du Randt, as they called him with the laid back yet clumsy English accent only Americans can so well portray, was born into a middle class family in the suburbs of the city of Johannesburg in South Africa. He was raised as an Afrikaans speaker, however, foreseeing the need of a good education, Daniel Du Randt sent his second son to an all English school in the outskirts of South Hills. He battled with the culture shock, but never betrayed Rugby over Soccer. “You can kill a South African, but you can never take away his love for the game of gentlemen that is Rugby”. He can still hear his father’s voice every time he remembers these words. At that moment it started to hail. Despite being in the city of the Sears Tower for over a decade, he had never gotten used to the ever unpredictable climate that is Chicago. He stared at his watch. It read 3:26 pm. Only then did he remember that even 500 dollar chrome watches need to have their batteries changed at one point. He took off his shoes and gapped at his tie. Back in Africa, jeans and t-shirts were common clothing. Here in the land of opportunity, such an audacious choice of fabric was enough to label you a “thug”. He fell into the seductive embrace of his armchair. This was the closest he had ever been to affection. Being filthy rich got him luxurious one night stands with some of the cities finest, but never caring. The only real satisfaction came from those lonely Friday nights when he self-gratified himself into a climax of ecstasy. Yet again he poured a glass of Eire’s greatest export, drank it down and felt sorry for himself. Minutes later Jake was in a deep sleep. He knew that his head would feel like crap in the morning, but, at that instant, all that mattered was the emptiness of heart it brought him. Silence fell over those amber walls. Just another day in the life of Jacob Du Randt – business tycoon.

Wake Up To The Migrain

Born in August years ago
Bound for Africa, I miss you so
Lived to the edge from night 'till day
Cursed all those fuckers, won't they go away?

Mind in Mach Three from the age of ten
Scribbled and mumbled with my blue ink pen
Dreamed in frames, it took my pain forever
Life over love, my heart whole for never

Friends are the base of any survival
After that chill my soul needs revival
I'm up for the drugs that money can buy
Cash ain't an issue when it passes you by

A blue summers dream of candy and rum
Drought in the mind of the deaf and the dumb
God be my staff of courage and might
May he make me brave when I miss you so tight.

From Above

Yet another text dated 2002, much better than the last.

I have been this way,
Since that longful day,
Where alone ‘till then,
I’ve lived again.

Her face smooth as silk,
Her eyes bright as pearls,
She seemed like a goddess,
Who came down to judge.

To me she came with all her beauty,
By heaven above may she show mercy!
What a splendid sight has come to me,
Will I now learn to be free?

Or is being free what I now see,
It seems to me like it must be,
The soul that meets mine,
A perfect set.

To my surprise,
Looks don’t despise,
And her voice was to,
Of sweet melody.

If this is love,
Then take me in!
I want to feel this way forever!
You’re my goddess,
Make me your slave,
Everything in you is perfect,
Including thy name,
8 linked letters,
Started thy beauty.

Whom I now wish all night,
Despite the distance,
You feel near,
Despite the difference,
I will not fear.

If this is love,
Then fill me deep,
And do not let go,
For I need you so.

And when I see you again
The wolf will meet the saint,
We shall become one,
In the grasp of a memory.

Searching

I was browsing my pc and found this text I wrote back in 2002. I know the language is pretty comun but at least you can all see how crappy I used to write! cheers to all.

Time goes by in such a hurry, without a change in sight. Monotonous. Same people, same views, same mentalities, same stupidity… Breaking free for most is easy, but for me it’s a complete struggle. Romeo and Juliet, what a strange sight, for Romeo says that parting is such sweet sorrow, whilst to me parting means never look back, a new life, a new chance to show my worth, to be admired. There is just one difference: Romeo had someone to drag him close while I must seek other seas, in search of a fish in thy immense variety, and then, when that fish comes, the bait must be right, and my net must be strong, so she may hold. Here I am nothing, there I must go, in search of what I’m looking for. Love is found in every corner, but is it pure? I think not … Love apart from talent, ambition against pure caring. The world is wide, Copernican once said, but will it hold when the distance widens?

Five Leaf Clover

Mamma always told me that the best things in life are free. Quite honestly, I don’t think that anything is free anymore, no matter the circumstance. I just got back from a three day camping trip in the middle of nowhere. I slept in a tent, while having my back battered by rocks, I had some of my buds around, I had fresh air, booze and complete silence, which made me more stressed out than ever. Even our meter long food bill seemed ironically miniscule when compared to the hunger in our souls. Even though no one spoke of it, we all had made a silent pact, a promise to ourselves that we were there to break free from the manic garden of delight that is living a dream while being awake. We were the most recent contenders of survivor à la Madeira. Our goal: live life to the edge. Well, maybe that wasn’t their objective, but it sure was mine. I’ve given up on so much since high school. Drama class opened my eyes to something new, to characters, to different lives, to a new me, far from the one I had learnt to admire and disgrace. I have learnt that life is too short for hours of work books and despicable theories created by the serendipity of sexless French assholes wanting to be remembered. I wanted to make the most of those three days. I wanted to meditate and find my tranquil garden. I thought that by being a daredevil I would be leaving the sin of caring behind by placing my most recently found virtue in its place – risk. I hardly ate, I drank like there was no tomorrow and I swam in near freezing water, inches from hypothermia. What for? For liberation. For freedom. For life without love! I have found a cure for everything. From memory loss to heartburn to sexual urge to insomnia. All but one. Feelings. I have no antidote for that. No snake venom is stronger than love. Nothing is quite as addictive. Nothing is quite as sweet. Nothing is quite as sour. No matter how cured I want to be or how much I fool myself into thinking I am, it’s going to take me a while to forget the girl from my dreams. Not the girl of my dreams but the girl IN my dreams. My script is almost complete. I’ve still to pick a title, a location and a purpose. The cast is half full, all but the lead star. The muse. The faceless stranger. The angel of my nightmares. The uptown girl with the girl next door smile. I guess I’m not in a hurry. I know that I’m just a fool with an imagination. I’m all but a miracle worker. No one is but God. He created me, blessed me and damned me. He knows best. I will never understand why.

Frame Killer

I left school, tried to be a Director
I wanted to go out, be an infector
The short-length movies that I once made
With the camcorder that my dad had paid

I shot anything that I could see
Almost got a fit when they captured me
The thrills and spills of the blind
Unedited hours in my mind

Parties on Hollywood Boulevard
I finally have a Rover in the yard
Friends have come, or so I thought
Girls wanna have me, my souls been bought

I’m the film star, I’m the Director
I’m the writer, I’m Hannibal Lecter
I’m the poet, I’m the fool
I’m the dreamer, who the hell made up this rule?

I don’t drink ‘cause it’s like a whore
I don’t smoke ‘cause it’s all a bore
I don’t take dope ‘cause I ain’t the star
Even if I tried I wouldn’t get too far

Gotta make it, gonna be needed
Gonna be the hero, be top ten seeded
Fuck society’s hypocrisy
You’ll never get the best of me!

Safe Passage

Dead end. I can hardly believe it. A month long walk has come to an unfortunate conclusion. Despite the path’s bumpiness and uncertainty I had managed to surpass all my hardship. Until now. A solid wall of brick and steel rises ahead of me now, staring down at this pitiful communication scholar. Engineering has always enjoyed the honour of being overrated. Once again that preconception has been proven right. Boat trips in the Ocean, beverage under the moonlight and bittersweet rimes were just too great a temptation. If I were Adam then I have betrayed mankind from the very beginning. She’s Eve, Juliet, Cleopatra, Guinevere, Sleeping Beauty and Helen of Troy all wrapped into an average height, average beauty girl. In fact, she’s like the girl next door. At least that’s what she seemed to be at first glance, at first touch and at first smile. Emerald eyes mesmerized me. I succumbed to her grace. The kiss of all but mutual true love enslaved the soul of Phil, the mortal. This would sound like brilliance if I were writing in platonic 16th century. But I’m not. In the early 21st love is like drinking cold coffee or hot beer while wearing a fur coat in the Kalahari – extreme. A blazing 33ºC sun is burning my neck as I write my most recent confession. Everything is nothing. Hot is cold, sweet is sour but love is still love. Her face is the desktop in my mind and my screensaver is 30 days worth of poetry in motion. Rebooting only lasts about a minute before it loads yet again. Formatting is password protected. My instant messenger doesn’t light up to her smileys anymore. She is gone. Not for good but gone. In a week she heads back to the city of the Tagus where a careless boffin awaits her with open arms. On that day my system will hibernate indefinitely. In time we will meet again. Until then I will treat my wounds with patience and caring. If I will be there when she realizes what I was worth, no one knows, but of one thing I’m sure – we were at the right place at the right time but in the wrong relationship. Go in peace my favourite mistake. God speed and may life be fair. At least to you.

Goofball

Hi, I think we’ve met
Right about now the clock is set
Tired minds and hopeless fate
Found that out on our very first date

I had my tie, poker dot red
Nothing but a jackass, your friend had said
My drumsticks roof up on Crash
Air Guitar played by a guy named Slash

But our sound is there
My heart is bare
Can’t you see it girl

In the skate park bumping on the half pipe
On the camping trip walking on the wrong side
In gym class staring at your hot pants
I was a goofball drooling over you, you, you

Graduation right down the highway
Prom night don’t think that I should stay
Homecoming queen, you’re dating the damn football star
If I could I’d hit him with his own fly car

But our sound is there
I’m getting desperate girl
You’re so hot you make me hurl

In band camp playing that dorky song
On the football pitch wondering what I did wrong
On my bed thinking of that lonely queen
I was a goofball drooling over you, you, you

Yeah, drooling over you, you, you
Drooling over you, you, you
All the times I felt so blue
Somehow it came down to you.

Full Hour Glass Empty

Mankind often curses life for being misunderstood. Curious enough, most of these melodramatic threats involve heartbreak and rejection. I’m one of these misfits. Can I say I was? Maybe I still am. I have no idea where my line of thoughts is taking me, I turned the stereo on, 50 cent plays, some mumble about best friends hooking up… figures… I’ve been stuck on Tracy Chapman for the past few weeks. You’d think that riding in fast cars, getting ready for revolutions or telling endless stories were her top hits. Think again, the lady has a chest load of pearls… Right now Busta is telling the posey how much he loves his chick…
I’m sure my blog fans are getting garlic charms and silver bullets ready to end my current state of what I call “talent drought”. It might be a phase, I’m counting on that, weeklong sleepless nights aka insomnia, unpredictable missed calls and constant sighs into space were sweet, but weren’t they supposed to have ended, lets say, 3 weeks ago?!! If you told me that feelings were the next best thing I’d probably laugh at you, send you packing and ship you to some mental institution in the Middle East. I would do that, but at this split second in time I’d reward you with a cruise ticket to the South Pacific, a Thai massage and a year’s supply of champagne and strawberries.
I had a few doubts about fate. I admit that I was skeptical. If you think about it, how can life be blue printed, thought of, scripted, copy written and published, all before you were even born? Every single step pondered to the detail?!! I’m stubborn by nature, but I’m a little more open to that theory now. Getting all “quoty” on you: “it is only after you lose everything that you are ready to gain”, Mr. Pitt – you little bastard – you had it figured out all the time, didn’t you?
When you reach a crossroad, don’t think. Don’t even blink. Just act instinctively and walk into nothing. What do you have to lose? I faced that crossroad about a month ago. I chose to turn right, not out of superstition, but because the grass was red, the sky was green and the track was blurry. I walked into the unknown. I’ve been heading down that dusty road ever since. Picket fences set the boundaries in the maze of life. I might be led to a dead end, I might have to head all the way back, and I might even have to pick a new path. Either way I clinch onto God and confidently say: for once in my life I have lived.

Daymare

Sighing to the ceiling of my island room
It seems like a frame straight out of doom
Soul that besieged me and rattled my door
Joust that demolished, battered me sore

Ram of illusion caressing my pain
Axe cracking centaurs think I am sane
Goblins of slaughter pay homage to tears
Needless to say I sweat all my fears

Longbows surpass the beating of flesh
Katanas make haste on the daimyo named fresh
From Gobi came riders blessed with ambition
A legion of warlocks craved for addiction

Thrones are lifted though most still remain
A crown is a jewel reluctant to stain
Empires built in a wink of an eye
Others collapse everytime one does sigh

Vineyards Of Peach

Love was the warmth that a child once had
Then love was the passion that did drive him mad
Later that love turned from sour to hate
Soon after sweet love not a second too late

Love is the dilemma that takes all his sleep
This love makes him shiver crying rivers too deep
Currently such love makes him hate all delight
Now this lost love still remains out of sight

Love will be there in the blue of the sea
Soon love shall sail under clouds that are free
Knowing that love is as red as can be
God shall bring love to the corpse that is me

Maple

Lunch in the sun by the maple tree shade
Moments called Zen in the life we both made
Cannabis thoughts in the puffs I dismissed
If I had then, I'd be lost in the mist

Daisies and roses in grief's tender glare
Blurred around the edges, were you still there?
Runway to runway, tarmac of dreams
Spawned of an Elder, a purpose it seems

Puppets of paper limp in the rain
Forever be drunk, It will flatter your pain
Acrobats and Clowns are the Angels of Death
They're laughing it out, soldiers of Seth

Silence is golden. If so I'd be rich
A mime would be wealthy, not just a bitch
People are faceless but all so unique
You age in discretion, you just reached your peak

Timeline

Lifelong efforts to stutter the dark
Heaven and Earth feel so far apart
Iron that pierced did leave its mark
Need and disgust were there from the start

Tribes co-exist in sweet tender rage
Empires fall at a whisper of a mage
Lucifer sighs at the life he once had
Christ is the target, the world has gone mad

The sun ceased to shine on that lonesome king
His broad hand on lust was his huge dismay
He woke up that instant, the birds did not sing
Sometimes speech haults, what will we then say?

You never know folk 'till you see their soul
You will soon change when you see they're not whole
The word expectation has no real complexion
That pitiless urge that has no direction

Fuck is a word, the feeling is better
She was a mistake, I should not have met her
Time is the source that laughs in your face
You're not on your throne, you've fallen from grace

Two Thousand And Six

I'm a downtown boy
Not in status but in soul
I've been lost since that day
Year of nineteen eighty-four

I've been high most times
Down on booze not on dope
I've been driving down that road
Though my headlights were on hold

Do you taunt out of grief
Or are you the better half of me?
Am I damned to this warmth
Or are you the gap that I don't see?

Is this loneliness alone
Or the mutter of the spoilt?
Can you see past it all
Or is there nothing left to glare?

Life would be so simple
If illusion was just in mind
It would be so much sweeter
If there was nothing left to find

Poison sips and daggers
Are a fool's way of passing
It burns and tares in silence
Year of twenty-twenty-five

Tempting Underworld

Temper changes in my rotten mind
Mood swings beckon in the valley of the blind
I woke up this morning, the world at my feet
Six hours later and I wish it stayed sweet
My plot was deemed perfect, no flaw in sight
A traitor in dreadlocks swayed all my might

Dwarves go to groups, they gave up on vice
A death row pardon at a twist of a dice
The smell of hot sweat drenches my vains
Enfatuation slithers straight off it's chains

My tears are toxic, they burn when I stare
I'm lost in a crowd, this world has a spare
I dream of my parting, I'm worth more than this
Lead through brain tissue I shall not dismiss

Why do I?

Why do I stop and stare when you just walk on by?
Why does that sweet tender smile make me just want to die?
Why does my heart beat fast when I hear you name?
Why do I weap tears of blood everytime you brag his fame?
Why do I stand and curse waiting on the phone?
Why do I feel dull and blue sitting all alone?
Why do I write and rhyme if it just hurts much more?
Why do I wish and hope if you're not mine for sure?
Why does your face hold eyes of morning dew?
Why does your grace strike when I'm missing you?
Why do you haunt my dreams when I lie down in bed?
Why do I wake the same next day and remember what you said?
Why don't I tell you every single day?
Why don't you see past the act and promise that you'll stay?
Why don't I walk away while I have time to spare?
Will I regret this poem the day you're no longer there?

Space Age Killer

When your lost in space
There's no turning 'round
When you betray your race
You don't know where you're bound

I'm cool at this instant
My soul is still lost
All it takes is a moment
To lose all you've got

When you've nothing to lose
Your mind is on gain
It's hard when you choose
'Cause I'm dumb like a pain

I've nothing to gain
I've nothing to lose
I'm nothing in mind
Even less in spirit

Even walks in a park are lonely
Even dreams are a state of the mind
Nothing is yours, I say sincerely
I've been cursed, everyday I am blind

I was the first off the tree
I was green now I'm rotting on turf
Once I was gravity in theory
Now hate is me, love is you

Bird Of Good Tidings

When you're alive hope is your will
You mount it all up like it were a thrill
Pretend it's alright when you're taking pills
Finally got well when you're stabbed by two drills

I loved in a time when I was naive
I was fooled and mauled by those stinking thieves
Sucked it all up, playing my part
God forbid that a man have a heart

Now that I passed to the side that is dark
I'm calm in my mind, my heart turned to bark
Hate is my key, I'm sure it will turn
Friend and foe in flames will all burn

Never did man find peace in affection
It just gives him a great big erection
We curse on our friends, call them all fuckers
Give them a beating for being cock suckers

Death is my home, zephyr of freedom
Tombs on deep graves, that is my kingdom
One sour day my squadron will fly
The New Age is coming straight from the sky