To Kganya(My Light)

i dont think i will be able to sleep tonight. The anxiety of seeing my baby for the first time is killing. i will be able to see those little feet that used to kick me from their mother's womb. i will be able to hold those little hands that jabbed at me from within...the realization is just tooooo overwhelming. The whole nine months you kinda know you going to be a dad, but right its certain. its starting to kicking in. Have to be at the hospital at 8.00am. And YES I am not chickening out ...I will be in the Operating Room when they take me baby out. I got balls of Steel.Call me Super Man from now on!! oh ya...Super Dad... Thats what i am going to be from tomorrow...A DAD...Being a DAD is a daunting task but i have had years of training. From the annoying Aunt's kids you have to look after when everyone goes to a funeral. Or those irritating little brats that you see and think "my kid will never be like that". And many adults that you either work with or come into contact with on a daily basis, that you think should still be in diapers! I would like to thank the above individuals for preparing for this moment. Now i know what my kid must not grow up and be like...Thank you.

To Kganya

i
love
you

you have given me
one more reason to live
you have shown me
i have much more to give
not just in brush strokes
or torn paper
you have given me
"me" back
with your life
you have given me life
Light
Love
Clarity

i
love
you

now i wait
to touch you
hold you
kiss you
now i wait
to see you
and thank you

i
love
you

Unintended

This is not
How I thought it would be
With you over there
And me right here
With Hands
That seldom touch
Hearts that always pine
Minds that search for time
Time to steal a kiss
Or a moment of bliss
 This is not
How I thought it would be
The sounds of our hearts
Beating around the corner
From each other
An unintended distance
 From one another

The begining

Welcome back to all.
hope 2012 brings with it great and new beginnings to all
New inspiration and a whole lot more art
to my creativ souls
keep the fire burning

here is a short piece for the new year


"We write
paint
scribble on paper
or concrete walls
to try
and get
to you"

"We dance
on your souls
with words
and paint
your reality
with bright colors"

"in silence
that's as loud
as our spirits
we shout
and scream
at your inner-being"

"we scream
a simple phrase
in color and in words
"life is beautiful!"
Live It!!!!


love peace and Happyness
Les-T

Being Alive

There is something about being alive
That only "Alive" people do
And they try to teach the living dead
Firmly on their shoulders rests their heads
Their hearts, heavy only with anticipation
There is something about being alive
That only "Alive" people do
Its called
Living
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It was said before
But I feel the need
To say it again
We are not worldly beings
Trying to be spiritual
Rather
We are spiritual beings
Endeavoring to stay strong

At what point
Do we lose ourselves
And forget who we are
At what point
Are we at peace
With the light within us dying
And extinguish the core
Of who we are
Blatantly
Publicly
Stabbing at it
And denying it
Like Judas did Jesus
But what we are denying
Is ourselves

We are spiritual beings
And we need to embrace it
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Find me

Find me amongst the stars
I am the one twinkling with all its might
Not as bright as the rest
But trying to find my way
Find me

I am the diamond in the rough
Waiting to be discovered
I am the virgin bride with a vale
Waiting to be uncovered
I am the poem in your heart
Waiting to be written
I am the love unsaid
From a teenage boy smitten
I am that song in your head
That just won't go away
I am that girl next door
You drool over every day
I am the dream
That you still need to dream

Find me
Find me amongst the stars
I'm the one twinkling with all its might
Not as bright as the rest
But trying to find my way
Find me

I am the husband and father
Trying to make ends meet
I am the homeless boy or girl
Who grovels and begs at your feet
I am the single parent
Who gives all to his kids
I am the little girl
Who dreams of being on tv
I am the boy in headphones
Who lives for the beat
I am the bare feet township
Playing soccer in the street

Find me
Find me amongst the stars
I'm the one twinkling with all its might
Not as bright as the rest
But trying to find my way
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how i started writing

I could tell you
How on a beautiful summer's night
The words came to me
Pouring down like summer rain.
How they forced their way
Not in me,but through me
How they planted a seed in my mind
And pushed to be birthed on paper

How i didnt choose to be a poet
but poetry chose me

How on that night
i wrote my first poem ever
And it was perfect
Every word
Exactly where it had to be
And how these words
Spoke to me
And still do

I could tell you
how magical
and mysterious
The moment was
But i would be lying

The Truth is
i started writing poetry
to impress a girl...
The only thing magical about it
was the stolen stares in class
or when she looked into my eyes
and how slow time would tick by
when we were talking

This has no fairy-tale ending
I didnt get the girl
we didnt ride off into the sunset
But I
Fell
Inlove
With
Poetry
And
It
With
Me

When the sirens stop

Thank you to all who have visited the blog... Stay blessed and please leave your comments.

Your humble messenger...
Love Peace Happyness
Les-T

When the sirens stop
And the smoke clears
When the hurrying feet
Finally come to rest
When the dust settles
Will our fists
Stay indefinitely raised
Or will we some day
Unclench our hands!!!
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Me,you

All that is
All that be
All that was
Is within me
All that is
Within me
Is
You
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Pleasing you?

This is a piece I am still working on will post the finished piece when it comes to me! Have a blessed weekend.
Love Peace Happyness

2011 05 17
Les-T
Maybe I should recite my poems naked
Or write them on a naked woman's body
Maybe if I suggest sexuality in each
I could get your attention
Would you find it disgusting
If I wrote a beautiful piece on a hideous body
Will I be critic on my work
Or the medium I chose to present it on
Would it be bad because it failed to give you a hard on
I sometimes wish poems were written
On a piece of toilet paper
So they are kept short
And can only be recited once
And the only thing recyclable
About them is the paper they are written on..

TBC
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