Friday, July 28, 2006

The Beggar

I saw this lady once or twice she came knocking at my door

She asked for just a piece of bread, she asked for nothing more

It surprised from the others, who would almost demand for me to give

And I wondered if just a piece of bread would be enough for her to live

She was skinny and old, yet so independent

I thought of leftover crusts I threw in a bin, I wanted to repent

She had on a blue dress, clean and neat

But brown, broken and too small sandals were on her feet

Her teeth were almost rotten, her hands were dry and old

She had no jersey or jacket to protect her from the cold

Her eyes were warm and honest, I felt that in my gut

I wondered how she ended up as a beggar, what an unfortunate rut

I told her to wait a few moments then closed the door in her face

And kept on wondering what she had at her home, did she have her own little place?

I collected some leftovers and microved it warm

I packed a bag of fruit, apples and a pear

But when I opened the door but she was not there

I realised then she was seated on the floor

With her naked legs and battered feet, she could have asked for more

She could have asked for a home like mine

With food on a table at night

She didn’t deserve the abusive man, oh God that isn’t right

I looked at the floor and looked at my feet, new Boots I bought in June

And in my cupboards filled to the brim, new, clothes? Oh no there is no room

I thought of a fight I had with my mum, about something that I wanted

I think of the fight, the ugly words and the unnecessary way I ranted

I think of my dad who has always been there, to protect me from the bad

And for all that I had, I realised, I ought to be really glad

Cause sometimes my friends you think you have nothing and life always is a bore

But then I remember that women and recalled that she asked for a piece of bread

Wednesday, July 26, 2006

Appreciation

The confusion runs wild in my head

And I look across the busy room

I reminisce on what she’s said

And I see the infinite gloom

I cannot give up on what we have cause if it goes that way

It is unfair, unjust, untrue to let our love decay

I know perfection is not what we have

Our problems are indeed great

But half perplexed I wonder why, if meeting you was not fate

You would have to sacrifice a lot, I know,

I wish it was more clear cut

But there is something real and magical

I can feel it in my gut

We will fight I am sure, I will slam the phone in you ear

But even through all that shit, the greatest thing I fear

IS for all of it to end, because we never gave us a chance

Which will be the untimely death of our little romance?

This is more that just lust

Or something childish like before

Where I dominantly fought being inlove,

The truth I would ignore

I am older now and smarter too

But a little girl I still am

But instead of all this childish gloom,

I am glad you are my man

Wednesday, July 19, 2006

Oh I ponder and wonder

Sometimes I ponder if things would have been different.

Like what if I studied to be a writer instead. Would any of my stuff actually have been published? I wonder if I ever will be a top notch stock broker, or a sort after analyst, an Oscar winning actress or script writer, a Grammy winning song writer, a suicidal artist, or a chef that makes Jaimie Oliver stutter and Nigella actually look unsexy but I settle for the unpublished poet.

I go on and further explore my past relationships and wonder, would things have been different if I went out with the guys who asked me out, who I hesitantly refused cause I was too shy or scared?

Would I be a married lady, would we have holidayed in Maurituis at Berjaya?

What if I married that boy who dumped me after a few weeks but politely proposed first, would I be divorced, pregnant and yet again suicidal?

What if I never studied and got a job being the assistant to Nolene on SABC 3 and after 6 years have my own talk show raising interesting topics like, “Why Barbie Dolls have waists equivalent to the size of their thighs?”

What if I was rich would I be driving a new Mercedes with expensive obnoxious mags, and loud system sporting my Bangra collection I would have acquired by then fulfilling every Indian mothers dream of her eldest daughter being an accomplished, lawyer, doctor, engineer, accountant or economist?

But things are very different, I take a taxi to Clicks head office and mess a around with numbers learning what a big company does, enabling me to have first hand knowledge of what the operational side is like in running a huge retail store which further aids my experience and development as a top retail analyst, making the likes of Merill Lynch, Allan Gray and all those other snooty Mercedes driving company workers, very impressed with my work, after which I become a HOTEL analyst, holidaying at the likes of Berjaya in Maurituis, with an amazing guy, who doesn’t give a damn that my waist is not the size of an anorexic Paris Hilton (Heiress to a Hotel Empire I must add for the intellectually challenged), inspiring me as a muse to write beautiful published poems, and songs they will use in Isidingo for the greatest romantic couple to grace our screens since Brooke and Ridge in Bold and the Beautiful, namely Rajesh and Lee.

I will then have lots of babies, ok two and cook butter chicken on Sundays with all the

side dishes and finish it off with a cheesecake for dessert from a Nigella Lawson cookbook.

Another Unpublished poem

The depths of this despair

My tormented soul cannot bare

So I try with agony and shut it out

At this uninterrupted, tainted time of doubt

My heart feels heavy, and my body cold

A hundred times before I was told

He’d break my heart, I would burn and fall

I so want to sms him and long to call

I feel so edgy and sad inside

It feels like my insides have died

I want to scream, I want to shout

I can’t remember what the argument was about

I really love you, I truly do

I have confessed this secret to a chosen few

I want to squeeze and hold you tight

I want it to be last Saturday night

When all was well, you loved me so

Where ever I went, you would follow and go

I’m feeling sad, confused, alone

And want to be neither at work nor home

I miss you so much it feels unreal

This pain and agony I refuse to feel

Nothing can be done, I must wait and see

What my future and fate will be

But as I wait with baited breath

I endure a slow, lingering, unsaintly death