The winter sky is dark, there is no moon;
The taxi’s lights reflects off tin can houses;
Taxi bump, a dog not a speed ****, driver will stop until noon;
Rival taxi speeds past with a bang by the side with the man and his spouse;
Her blood bitterly decorates the 18-seater, Lesha from Khayelitsha.

There is a world outside my window
it screams and rushes and roars  
Relentlessly in motion
a ceaseless current
of to and from
coming and going (“Wynberg !?”)
that batters against my walls
Even the trees
thrash about
in an angry hurried cadence
“You must not keep still!” everything shouts
Yet I remain
in stasis
cut off from the boundless energy
that proudly moves on and on and on

At night as I lie awake I beg
To let me live as many lives
As there are stars in the sky

1 | 31 Poems for August

I want to do more than just write poetry.
I want to paint pictures.
So be my muse and surrender your body as my canvas.
I’ll make every single swift stroke bring you to life.
I’ll show you what this brush of mine is capable of.
You are the sun that my sky yearns to hold.
Beautiful cocoa butter skin.
Your beauty is not only found on your exterior but every single place within.
I want to insert my poems in every single atom in this galaxy.
So that you can feel my love wherever you go.
From Pretoria to Toronto.
From Jo’burg to Moscow.
From Cape Town to Glasgow.
Static thoughts and kinetic conversations inspire my flow.
I have thoughts that my words cannot describe and I wish to share them with the world.
I wish to share them with you.
I love the way your eyes see past my smile and deep into the fibres of my soul.
I love the way your smile makes me whole.
Let’s become a poem our friends can always snap their fingers to.
I want to hold your body the way canvas portrays paint.
I want to kiss your lips while I gently hold your waist.
I want to do more than just write poetry.
I want to tell the world about you.
Let me tell the world about you.