(Untitled) while at Horror cafe

Blessed souls

this is the second poem that was requested i hope those of you who are reading this for the first time feel it. and dont forget to subscribe to my blog by simply typing your e-mail address above and click submit. i will not be boring you with mundane things. this blog is about poetry and art...and that is all you will get. without further wasting you time.....Enjoy

Love Peace Happyness
Les-T


Untitled (while at horror café)

Les-t

I was sitting right there
Like every Tuesday night
Listening to poets recite
These inspiring thoughts
That keep bringing us here
Like sheep to the sound of a shepherd’s voice
Ants congregating around spilt sugar
Listening to images that haunt their sleep
And say they are deep

I was right there
When these wolves in sheep’s clothes
Ripped the essence out of her
And displayed it on the walls
Of a Joubert park flat stairway
While they in suits and ties
Repeatedly thrust their manhood inside her
I was sitting right there
Applauding and cheering you on
As you spit these lines about windows
This other brother inspired by his cell phone
Hurry up
You breaking
Hurry up
You breaking
These images haunt my sleep

He grabbed her by the throat
While the other one took off his coat
Cleared his throat
She searched for compassion
Within their eyes
And found nothing but ice
They were not human
These beasts
These sick bastards
Contracted by everything evil
They could’ve been demons
For all I care
Life is not fair
This angelic being
I almost called a wife
Now tainted with Lucifer’s seed
Her womanhood violated
By her brothers from another mother
While I was listening
To a poem about a failed father
And this sister with an enchanting voice
That sang about choice
While she captured the stage
And made it hers
They came inside her
Left their marks so deep
These images haunt my sleep

I was sitting right there
Hypnotised by the words that you speak
Inspired to come out of the bedroom
And step on stage and scream
Poetry is my life
While I was sitting right there
These animals raped my wife

Now we lie awake at night
And dress our wounds in tears
Hoping all will be all right
Even my touch arouses her fears

Shall I continue to write?
Or throw away my pen in fright
Rage and fight
No matter what I might
These images will still haunt my sleep

Love is a Rabid Dog

Blessed souls

A good friend of mine insisted on a couple of poems that i should put up. And this is one of them.

Love, Peace, Happyness

Les-T


2009/04/16
Les-T (da last Souljah)



Love is a rabid dog
From hell
That bites all in sight
Ripping soul from limb
Heart from reason
Leaving all diseased
With this infectious curse
Love is a Pink hearse
That leads all men
To their untimely end
Spiritually
Emotionally
Literally
Or otherwise
Love is you neighbor’s
Old rusted car
You always wonder
Why he still keeps
Love is that
Patched up doll
With one leg
That we just can’t
Throw out
In hope
That one day
We’ll find
That missing leg
And all
Will be alright

night life confessions

good day all

i wont bore you with jibber-jabber....here is the piece for today. to get regular updates enter you e-mail address above and click submit...its that easy. and its for free

Night life confessions

Les-T(da last Souljah)
If darkness could talk
Spill the beans
On what happens behind trees
At the toilets in bars
Or in dark alleys inside parked cars
No one ever talks about what happens
Behind open bottles
Or the whispers muffled by the sound system
Or what he said to convince her to come with him
How much semen she has seen and tasted
How many bodies the night has seen wasted
The night should be number one on the witness stand
It knows who dragged who and who left hand in hand
Who said yes and who went in with no protection
And is a choir member of your church congregation
Who said I love you just so he can penetrate, wait
Who believed it and who really just didn’t give a fck
Who is doing it for the first time and who is the regular weekend slut
The night knows who is drunk and who is high on something
Who wakes up in the middle of the night to write
Who is inspired and who is just hot wired
The night knows whose sht is real
And who you shouldn’t really feel

the root of her pain

Good morning All

I am glad blogger is up and running ... i thought we should all get a little aquainted. i have selected a few of my earlier work to put as a lot of you are not yet familiar with my work...

i hope you enjoy your journey through my mind....

The root of her pain

Les-T
I watched her cry
Traced the dry tears on her cheeks
They took me through one hell of a week
My thoughts made me seem meek
As I journeyed her pain
I wasn’t a driver but a passenger on this train
As it took me back to her delicate chin again
Went up passed those lips that I so often kiss
But something was amiss
She wore a frown I couldn’t crown with a kiss
She spoke words I couldn’t make out on my own
Like bottles, lip stick, used condoms
Messages on my phone
Her tears fell like the summer’s rain
As I search for the story behind her pain

I watched her cry
And I knew it wasn’t me
As I traced the dry tears on her cheek
They took me through one hell of a week
What I saw made me feel sick
How a heart can be made real weak
By a thousand uncertainties in one week
A dozen I don’t knows in one night
It wasn’t me is all I say when we fight
Her light skin cheeks turned red from the crying
I get upset and start writing
The truth sounds like a lie
As I journey up her cheek towards her eye
To peek through the window of her soul
The one soul that makes me feel whole
I hope her tears don’t start to flow
While I seek the root of her pain
I stand and stare deep in her eyes
To find out what it could be
But to my surprise
The root of her pain is me

if i stopped writing
would you care
would you bare your hands to the sun
and let them bleeed words
would you guide my pen onto paper
or would you let me disappear
into oblivion
a toilet wall philosopher
flushed away with the tissue
at the end of the sesssion!!!!!!!!

Challenge

Just to remind myself i went back to the first entry of this blog. And was reminded of what the objective of this blog was. i had gone through a slump in my artistic endeavours and had for some reason stopped writing and stopped painting...like i have done again. so i decided to start this blog as a little project to help me get started. i set a challenge for myself that i will write/paint or do something creative every single day. i will then post all that i have been doing everyday. i figured if i have an audience i will feel kinda obligated to perform and it will push me to do better. so here we go....the challenge is back on and i will try to stick to it for more than just a couple of days this time

on that note the piece for today
its unfinished by the way...but i feeln like i want to share this we you

Dear Dad

I have wanted to write this for so long
What yopu did was just so wrong
And I'm not talking about you leaving
Or for half the time pretending I dont exist
Mama always pushing me "go see him, he is your Father" she'll insist
I'll stand for hours at the taxi rank
Waiting for you to come pick me up
Never showing up was just so easy for you
But that is not my beef with you
I have laid in pillow puddles of tears
Not coz of your passing(i am at peace with that)
Or the countless unkept promises
But coz you are not there
and i need you so much right now

take me

take me
push me against a page
and have your way with me
rub me against your soul
and play with me
tease me with your love
and excite me

pin me against my heart
and strip me bare
take me
take your hand and feel me
feel every inch of my soul
and how it longs to be whole
feel how you fit perfectly
in all the empty holes
take me

Mornin people...


be sure to look out for my nxt piece- will post it later today

i don't know
if i love words
or the sound of the pen
as it scribbles on a page
or maybe i am addicted
to the intoxicating smell of ink
or the repetitive click
of the keyboard
as i type each piece out
or maybe i am a voyeur
who likes to watch
as one syllable caresses the other
enticing the reader
to read on and on and on
i don't know
if i love words
or the sound they make
when they come out
i don't know if i love words
or the tingling sensation i get inside
when one follows the other at the right time

good day all

i have neglected this blog for a while and feel like a bad parent well not anymore..les-T is back