Butterflies and Flowers
Guess who?
A Butterfly, flapping its wings, brings the sky to colour
Floats up and down, graceful and sound
He flies and finds a Flower, softer than words uttered
The flower he finds is a Blue Rose, soft and with joy
Yet the Rose wilts, unsatisfied with such a ploy
An Orchid grows elsewhere, though her stalk is short
But for happiness the Orchid has still fought
She, a flower so gracious and bright
She remains hidden, petals closed
Hidden remains the passive flower, unopposed
A Butterfly soars through the sky
Eccentric and bold and refusing to die
Yet heart so solemn and empty
Beating without meaning restlessly
Butterfly searches for meaning in his life
Butterflies away to avoid strife
The Flower that hangs in the grass
The Orchid who wishes she may last
Orchid with beauty and little past
Regret unseen- evident gloss and sheen
The Orchid finds courage and opens her petals
Hoping to find one with her they’ll settle
The Butterfly flying away,
Has had enough of terrible days
As he flies he sees a flower, now without fear
Blossoming and embracing light and morning dew
Intrigued by the beauty he approaches near
It is there he sees his orchid, laying in lieu
Another rendition of ‘Romeo and Juliet’
Though in this tale, we have little over to fret
The orchid glows brighter and sparkles
And releases joy in scent- diffusing particles
Summer sun tinkles and glows
Appealing to the emotion that lies in tow
Glittering diamonds in the sky, the stars
Planets move for us, Venus and Mars
The Butterfly long sought a Rose
Yet in an Orchid his heart found abode
The Orchid sought not this unknown emotion
Yet in her heart, it was all set in motion
Kisses, hugs and hand held
Our happiness together we shall meld
This our story, the one I have told
And I’ll tell you I love you, if I be so bold
Where we’ll be or end- ‘God Only Knows’
But that I’ll leave that up to my written prose
I’m Your Butterfly and You’re my Flower
Don’t forget that, and I won’t forget it too
And it’s my hope that I’ll see you soon
The Observer
You are not allowed to interfere
For you are all held by fear
You may watch the windows break
You may watch the pavement crack
You may watch the thieves take
You may watch as I whip their backs
You are the observer
You serve no other purpose than to view
Stay out of view
Do not be seen
You may not give water to the thirsty
You are not allowed to be for mercy
You are not allowed to call me
You may not do anything but see
Serving no other purpose the observer watches
As suffering continues and screams are heard
As gun shots ripple through dark skin
As blood flows and stains the floor
As ribs are broken by abusers
As muscles tense in dying pain
As bombs are dropped on the droppings
The supposed droppings of society we wish not to see
This is what the observer must see
This is the man the observer must be
Feel no sorrow as people die
Feel no pain as leaders lie
Feel no remorse from cold inaction
Feel no guilt of the guilty faction
You are not allowed to interfere
For you are held back by fear
You are the observer
You hold no other purpose
Than to purse, than to view
Than to watch our tears
Stairway To Heaven
I dream of gifts that god has sent
My wonder and aspirations
I wonder what they meant
On the ground I lay
From the earth I came
Molded into figure by golden hands
Shaped from clay
I dream a dream of the unknown
In what world do I live
And what seeds have I sown
I sat upon the third golden step
I say my reflection across the olden surface, I wept
Now I begin to watch the gates close
I realize that tomorrow never knows
I hear the angels say
That I should stay
I turn back and walk into the fire
I wish to acknowledge my deep desire
So know I walk away
Despite the angels cries to stay
Cries turn to whispers
Memories that I kissed her
Recall floods into my mind
I hush myself and recline
I approach the horned beast
Scared to say the least
Roaring flames and soaring heat
Dying souls and cold hard feet
Falling rain and falling sleet
Yet the water so dark
Floods Noah's ark
The ark I had wished to climb
Yet that was a different time
I reject the beast
I douse the flame
You I meet
Things the same
I climb upon the stairs to heaven
Light crawling on my skin so blessed
The angels sing in joyful tune
The sun rises and sets the moon
Life explained and happiness eternal
Embrace the light and escape inferno
I climbed my stairway to heaven
The challenge ended
Yet my life yet to end
Far from the last bend
I remain on the top step
It is here I wept
Let it be known that I climbed my stairway
Tomorrow I shall as I did yesterday
Let it be known I be not last or first
And that only the light could quench my thirst
My thirst for knowledge filled
My blood red wine spilled
The red tainting the dark floor
I remain content forever more
Now that I have climbed the steps
Now that I have wept
I pray I be not the last to walk upon the gold
And that I not remain story untold
The Space In Between
From 'My Sister Is Mad At Me'
I told you the truth
Set according to real vision
Of lost love, war and truce
Of what is believed to be a righteous mission
Yet you did not wish be reminded
Of all the pain and suffering
That will be nothing to you
Ten years from now
When you find another
I am sorry
But I am not
I am sorry
It is then that I realized my truth
Set according to real vision
That I too would lose my lose soon
That I shall no longer be fed on the silver spoon
My heart ached
When I learned of a such a fate
Yet I ignored it
And resolved to live now and not the future
The day you the same
Is the day I earn my fame
But for now, do not cry in the face of reality
You are not the suicidal of the depressed
We, just the pieces of the endless puzzle
Still need to find where we fit
You a piece of a puzzle
Seem to have found your place
But you were ripped out by God's own grace
I a pieces of the puzzle
Have nowhere to be
Which is why I tell the truth I see
Which is why I see
The Space In Between
Class
I stay bored, lying in my gentle abode
I seek more, and sigh from staying alone
Sand in the hourglass float and fall
Children grow and mature, becoming tall
Papers crinkle and pencil marks are erased
Journeys ending I remain unphased
Passing phase, perform on a dying stage
All that ends once you age
Money burns and corpses rot
And soon I die- forget me not
Ancient texts of gold and solemn wonder
Twisting and turning, living and earning I meander
Words too short and words too long
It makes me wonder where they belong
Sodden clothing stained with tears
Awake now and realize fear
Blood and sweat drip and taint
Cold anger makes you shake
Suddenly warmer appears a saint
Though life is you and what you make
As a wise man said:
'The love you make
Is equal to that you take'
Twisted speech is what wins bread
Poison and cyanide, speed and cheap lead
None prescribed and all are dead
Death and life lay hand in hand
Not all can comply with this simple demand
Find someone and rest on their shoulder
Summon strength and lift the bolder
The silver apple that lies in the secret garden
Pluck it and become warrior ardent
Let me lie here, I am not of this time
True or false all remains fine
Early Morning
My eyes are strained
My arms in pain
My legs are cold
My life on hold
Cries of the cockerel from the village
Light of the orange sun scatters
Dew tickling green grass
Sand flying from the worn shoes of workers
Eggs hatched in rough gritty straw
Late birds flock for ever more
My fingers numb
My lip hums
My joints unmoving
My pain not soothed
Morning wind, take me away
Wash away pain from yesterday
Morning clouds cover the sky
The sky I viewed when I wished to die
Roars from yawning lion
Droplets from a rare desert stream
Falling rock and stone formations
Dry shrub and lifeless vegetation
Dawn and dusk meet and part
Such is the sweet song of now dead lark
Savannah
Grassy fields with tall trees
Red flowers and short shrub
Blue birds and wispy nests
Black beetles and rotting dung
Creeping cheetahs and sodden paw prints
Whispering prey and stabbing thorns
Dark hunter and fresh spoor
Happy tribe and cultural village
Irregular Beat
Adapted from 'Bad Day'
With each irregular beat of his heart,
A significant thought passes,
And becomes lost to the subconscious.
With each irregular beat of his heart,
Emotions rise and fall chaotically,
Like the steep curves of a highland mountain.
With each irregular beat of his heart,
Rationality folds like paper into decisive logic,
But tears into fluttering pieces of uncontrollable insanity.
With each irregular beat of his heart,
Words are written onto paper, typed on a screen,
Yet still remain as silent, desperate unheard screams.
With each irregular beat of his heart,
He finds more meaning but sees himself only dreaming.
Realizing, nothing is ever as it seems.
Colours
The beauty of it all
Witness the colours
White winter falls
In coats we shudder
The variety and brilliance
Of every single one
Yellow summer brings resilience
The sun shines and comes
Bear wonderful witness
To the colourful range
Red autumn with its bliss
Leaves’ colours change
The beauty of it all
Witness the colours
Green spring winds call
They call me and my mother
Ink Out Of The Pen
How many words written
Struggling with the friction
The ball no longer flowing
The paper remaining blank
No black staining the paper
No pen clipped upon the pocket
The pen with no ink serves no purpose
No fountain to dip the feather into
No contract to be signed with blood
The pen no longer filled serves no more purpose
The end of the creative period
Repetitive strain no longer the injury
Writing no longer the cause of misery
For the ink has flowed out the pen
Tired
Tired and dying from strained eyes
No one can hear my sad cries
But when asked I lie
I tell them all that I'm fine
Squinted eyes when the sun shines outside
Art drawn badly, wobbly penciled lines
Here staring up, approaching dire straits
Speech and stories that I berate
I want to close my eyes and dream
But how to so, I can't it seems
I day dream my eyes closed
In this life I sleep unopposed
The Ballerina At My Door
There's a ballerina dancing at my door
Dancing to classical music score
Here skin pearly and pale
Each footstep like raining hail
Eyes icy cold
A girl whom has sold her soul
Her soul sold to dance and ballet
She would like to perform a piece if she may
A figure so gracious
Her movement vivacious
Yet so soft and calm
She holds the music in her palm
Perhaps I could give the ballerina
A penny or two for a dance
Perhaps I could give her applause
If she shows me contemporary romance
Tights stretched across her long legs
Black markings and white powder on her cheeks
It is for dance that she endeavors
An endeavor I would like to meet
Choreographed and synchronized touch
The tears from her eyes bear too much
The little girl who dances for the world
Holds the music in her palm
And utters a soft psalm
She whispers quietly to herself
She dances on the shelf
The library of dance
She tries to find her book
She tries so hard to look
The ballerina then performs her grand opus
Her final piece and final movement
The final orchestration that is conducted
The plot and the story that has been constructed
She pirouettes for the final time
Tonight is the night she finally shines
She glows and her joy spreads
We feel all that she has held inside
The ballerina dancing at my door
Does not wish to dance any more
She has moved enough to the musical score
Doubt erased she is now sure
While moving her feet to the symphony
The ballerina at my door has left me
Left me with harmony and melody
Page Filled With Nonsense
I'm filling a page
With nonsense
I
am
filling
this
page
with
nonsense
N
O
N
S
E
N
S
E
I
have
filled
this
page
with
nonsense.
I have filled a page with nonsense
Yet it somehow remains sound in logic
I have written words on paper
And written with heart and emotion
My hands set in motion
A waste of paper
A waste of a tree
This is not who I wish to be
Life lived alone
Where shall I go
I have filled this page with nonsense
Because I am alone
My Bed
Lying in my bed
I miss her, I really do
My petite orchid
Whispering Spirit
Whispering dead soul
Hushed voices, cold lyric
Whispering spirit
Debate
Argument agreed
Conflict of the opinion
Argument disagreed
Ballerina
Soft movement
Tip toes, heels and light small feet
Dance with your sweet heart
Drink
Cold ice in water
Caressing lips softly
Thirst quenched, now gone
Table Cloth
White clean table cloth
Sheen so bright, soft warm and bright
Small standing, low height
Child
Vibrant energy
Youthful, sparkling eyes
Running without care
Dark
Darkness surrounds me
Destiny of the unseen
Black void of nothing
Fragile
What does remain now?
A hollow husk, cracked
Broken shell on beach
Scientist
Eccentric science
Teacher's eyes sparkle with joy
He found a new toy
Book
Warm, warm loving book
Grips, grabs me, fish on hook
Enjoy, soft caress
Puberty
Pretty girls, soft hands
Boys stare down, restless interest
Romantic tension
Modernity
Urban shoes I wear
Do not change me, yet still tear
Noise, Curses, Sex, Drugs
Lost Sister
I lost my sister
Yet somehow still unchanged
I bleed words, not tears
Mop
That is not a mop,
Tool used to wipe away tears.
That is just a broom
Desert
Rocky hot desert
Green spiky, thorny cactus
Burning dunes of sand
Chemistry
Periodic line
Bubbling gas of wonder
Chemical intrigue
God
Controlling remote
I, puppet, You, master
Press my red button
Drying Paint
Watching the paint dry
Toxic scent, boring like death
Wet paint, please please dry
Pump
Pumps that carry water
Do not rust nor dare falter
Bring me salvation
Questions
What if physics had a theory that could prove or disprove the existence of God?
What if the extremism is the true and intended interpretation of religious text?
What if the virgin was released from her cage?
What if the ignorant were ignored?
What if the misconceptions of society could disappear?
What if I could change?
What if the sword was stronger than the pen?
What if peace is just an unattainable dream?
What if gossip remained unheard and did not burn with its spreading wildfire?
What if the truth was set free? What if humanity preferred rationality over emotion?
What if time could not be perceived and we were made blind?
What if I were to fall, would I be caught?
Where would we go if the world turned to ash?
Where would we be without our leaders?
Where would be without democracy?
Where would we be without dictators?
Where would we be bury the dead without morgues?
Where would I be without you?
Where would the children be if there were no schools?
Where would the righteous be if wrong was right?
Where would the fighters go if there was no fight?
Where would the speech-giver be without a plight?
Where would the cool be without the cool?
Where would if I be if I was fool?
Why must the second amendment stay necessary?
Why must global powers harbor onto weapons of mass destruction?
Why is there the existence of mutually assured destruction?
Why does this city need more construction?
Why without death, can society not function?
Why must I be so passive-aggressive?
Why does the author maintain the narrative?
Why can the dead not return?
Why must we perish in the ground or in the fire?
Why is life our deepest desire?
Why must we not touch the wires?
Why must I be the cynical skeptic?
When are we to invade this territory?
When are we to shoot this man?
When are we to rape this woman?
When are we to abandon our children?
When are we to lose demand?
When am I to lose you?
When is the cycle to re-begin?
When is this cycle going to end?
When does the cycle reach the last bend?
When for our lives we have to fend?
When does this all end?
When will I see I’m wrong?
How do we train our assassins and killers?
How do we fool ourselves?
How do we avoid the truth that stands so naked and bare?
How do believe that it hides in disguise?
How do we break our family ties?
How am I to love?
How does the universe work?
How do the stars shine so bright?
How am I blinded by the light?
How does Science explain this all?
How do we avoid it all?
How do I live with myself?
Who are the prophets of this newest testament?
Who are the chosen, the few heaven-sent?
Who are they to scare us with their dogma?
Who are they to claim themselves holier?
Who are they to define the morals and ethics?
Who am I to disbelieve?
Who are we to complain?
Who are we to be silent?
Who are we to stigmatize the insane?
Who are we to be in defiance?
Who are we to call ourselves human?
Who am I to question?
What if the intelligent were headed?
What if society had not receded?
What if our children have a future?
What if our pupils have learned?
What if the warriors have survived?
What if I can escape?
What if perpetual motion was possible?
What if the four fundamental were unified?
What if life could be defined through words and numbers?
What if these questions were answered?
What would humanity do then
What would I do, if I had the answers?
What if…?
What if…?
What if…?
What if…?
What if…?
What if I were to realize the questions never end?
Copyright Tawanda W.T Mulalu
2011
www.lifeinthethirdperson.blogspot.com
Originally posted on the now defunct: www.stuffiwite.blogspot.com
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