ordinary people

Inside a box

Have you ever felt as though you live inside a box?

Squashed into a square tube forced to look through others tunnel vision?

Have you ever sat in conversation and spaced out only because the falseness around you is suffocating you?

Have you ever wished you could just be alone? Sitting on a deserted beach with the wind playing through your hair. No one around you just nature, the sound and smell of the sea?

Or in a forest surrounded by trees and chirping birds and other animal sounds.

Embraced by the honesty of nature.
Concrete jungle filled with your plastic people. Running to now where.
Why do I feel as though I’m the only one who see the uselessness of our days?

I look around me and all I see is people who don’t want my spirit to be free.
Who tell you what to think.
What to feel.
How to react.

You smile at people who seem to think your oblivious to what they don’t say.
You feel as though you want to call the winds name.
Call him and say
“Take me away. Don’t remind me of night and day. Take me away. Away from masks and insecurity. Away from power play. Just away.”

Just take me away. Away from politics, riots, murder, traffic, hustle of relationships that are full of lies……
Away from hate,
away from racism,
Away from this mad world spinning upside down………

Spaced out staring at people who are double faced,
These boring conversations comparing so called worldly knowledge.

Have you ever felt as though you live inside a box?

Squashed into a square tube forced to look through others tunnel vision?

Politics has become a way of life……

Mindless beings instead of individual thinkers…..

Stomping, shouting, fire starting animals.

Free thinking a thing of old.
Drifting in a sea of tiring traffic, stress, power hungry growling predators.

Seen through an imaginary looking glass.
We all live inside a box.
Not seeing all the pain,
Not seeing the starving,
Not seeing the unfairness,
Not seeing the beauty of different shades of skin color……..

Only feeling xenophobia fear…
Only seeing anger….
Only seeing who will win the race….

Not watching the boy at the back coloring the sky with music notes….
Or the girl praying for world peace….
Or the mother kneeling asking for food…..

Or the old giving to homeless youngsters…..

Do you live in a box?

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Vertrapte ou-Jan

Warm sand voel soos moeder aarde satyn as ou-Jan sy groot toon dieper in die aarde in boor. Sy oë Val waardeurend op oranje son stoet. Suggend staar hy en kyk hoe nog ñ dag groet.

♬”kalwas, kalwas bring terug wat was”
“kalwas, kalwas gee vir Jan jou oranje jas”
“kalwas,kalwas ek Sal tog nooit hier inpas”
“kalwas, kalwas bring terug wat was”♬

Ouder gewoonte neurie Jan sy deuntjie en glimlag tranerig as die son ñ laaste keer oor die horison loer.

Sy son vernielde plooie trek saam wanneer ou-Jan uittand vir ñ verbyganger glimlag.
Geen glimlag word terug gegee en hartseer weet ou-Jan dit is te veel om te verwag.

Hoes-hoes en al sukkellend begin hy aan te skuifel. Sy ou lyf al seer.

♬”you are my sunshine, my only sunshine. You make me happy when skies are grey.”♬

Sing-sing loop hy rigtingloos. Ou-Jan sing nie omdat hy happy is nie. Nee, hy sing omdat hy sy honger pyne wil stil. Hy sing omdat alles so erg pyn, omdat sy loneliness so hard skreeu.

“Nobody gives a damn Jan. Hulle wil net tjeld hê that’s all. Jy Kan dood lê hulle Sal verby jou trap” sy ma se woorde reim nou truth dink hy.

Moeg en uitasem gaan sit ou-Jan om vir ñ oomblik te rus. Die duiwe se stupid gechi-chi maak sy ore seer en hy verwilder hulle, waai sy arms wild soos ñ gesuipte besetene. Jan knyp sy oë toe en gryp sy bors vas soos een van sy Wilde hoes buie hom weer beet kry.
Met die agterkant van sy hand vee hy die sweet druppels op sy voorkop af en vee die bloed druppels op sy hand aan sy sakdoek af.

“Is Oom ok?”. Ou-Jan wip soos hy skrik en kyk op om te sien waar die fyn stemmetjie vandaan kom. Voor hom staan ñ dogtertjie met ñ bos blonde krulle, haar bruin ogies staar versorg na hom.

” Ja, Ja ek is fine” antwoord Jan Deur die gehoes.

“Hier vat ñ slukkie koeldrank Oom” uitgestrek hou sy die botteltjie cola, haar klein vingertjies klou kramptig aan n bruin beertjie vas.

Onseker vat ou-Jan die botteltjie. Die glimlag in haar ogies laat sy hart in een krimp. Hy voel hoe trane opstoot in sy keel en sluk swaar die yskoue koeldrank so saam die trane af.

” Baie dankie nooi” en die keer is dit Jan wat haar beloon met sy tandlose glimlag.
Sy gaan sit langs hom en staar ewe kordaat voor haar uit. So sit hulle in stilte. Totdat Jan weer benoud met ñ hoesbui stoei.

” Hierso vat gou weer ñ slukkie Oom” die yskoue lafenis streel sy bebloede keel en hoes-hoes bedank hy sy nuwe maaitjie.

“Oom my ma sê dat almal van ons eendag sterretjies gaan wees. Dink Oom dis waar?”

Haar bruin ogies kyk vraend na hom. Nou wat sê mens nou?
O Jirre help hierdie ou brein!

” Ja kleintjie eendag gaan almal van ons daai stairway klim. Wanneer jou sypaadjie klaar geraak het. Gaan ons daar bo rus. En blink aan die hêmel hang.”

” Oom my Pappie se sypaadjie het opgeraak. Hy hang aan die hemel en elke aand voor ek gaan slaap, blaas ek vir hom ñ soentjie.”. Haar ogies staar hartseer na Jan en hy voel daai damn trane weer opstoot.

Jan oorweeg dit vir ñ oomblik om die gesprek kort te knip maar iets keer hom. Dis daai soft spoken voice in hom wat sê hy moet sit.

Jan sit woordeloos voor hom en uitstaar en wonder waar is die kind se ma. Hoekom is sy alleen.
Hy krap lomp binne hom rond vir troos woorde.

“Hy is nou jou gardian angel. Hy pas vir jou op kleintjie. Nooit is jy alleen nie.”

“Hierdie ou lyf is done. Binnekort gaan ou-Jan ook daarbo rus.” praat Jan sonder om te dink. Hy kyk vinnig op en lees die vrae in haar kinderlike ogies.

“Oom is Oom ñ swerwer?”
“Mamma sê dat mense wat in die parkie slaap swerwers is. Dat ons nooit lelik moet wees nie want een van julle Kan dalk Jesus wees.”

ñ Glimlag ruk onwillekeurig aan sy wange en laggend verklaar hy dat hy well een is.

” Kleintjie wat was jou pappa se naam?”
“Werner sy naam was Werner Oom”
haar handjies vee n blonde krul agter haar oor.
” Ou-Jan Sal vir jou pappa hallo sê, wanneer my paadjie opraak”

Ou -Jan maak reg om op te staan. Die gesprek wil hy nou afsluit voor dit sy loneliness weer terug roep.

Skuifelend begin hy aanstap sonder om om te kyk en voel n Klein handjie vou om syne.

“Oom ek wil graag my beertjie vir Oom gee.” tranerig hou sy nog vas aan sy hand terwyl Jan prewel dat hy moet gaan.

” Oom asseblief Oom. Vat vir celia sy Sal Oom styfvashou as dit donker is. Ek het haar nie meer nodig nie. Ek het ñ gaurdian angel. Vat Oom vir celia. Dan wanneer Oom se paadjie klaar is en Oom die stairway gaan klim, Oom haar saam Kan vat. Oom Sal nooit weer alleen wees nie”

Die trane stoot nie meer op in sy keel nie maar vloei nou oor sy vuil wange en los spore. Hy vee met sy hand oor sy gesig en druk saggies haar handjie.

“Dankie kleintjie. Dankie.”

Sy draf stap Weg en ou-Jan staan gesteen en staar na sy nuwe companion.
” Celia. Wat maak ons met jou?” soos die donker toe sak en Jan hom regmaak vir ñ koue wintersnag op sy park bed, oorweldig sy gesprek met die bruin oog kleinding hom. Hy kyk op na die nag hemel en wens hy Kan so onskuldig soos ñ kind glo.

“As U daar bo my hoor, vir vertrapte ou-Jan nog ñ oor het Jirre. Wil vir niks vra nie. Ek like my park bed. Is thank full vir wat ek het. Liewe Jirre dankie wil ek net sê dat U Deur ñ bruinoog kleinding langs my kom sit het. Langs ou vuil ekke gesit en gesels het. Bless daai kleinding Jirre.
Amen”

“Stop nou jou getjank.” vies beruspe Jan homself. Deur skrefies oë lê Jan en loer vir daai een ster wat so helder hang. Nog voor slaap stil Kon kom sit, hoes Jan ñ laaste keer, lê rustig sy kop neer en blaas ………ñ laaste keer.

Slot.

The words Canvas

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-read the pic- it says it all-

Why do some people think they have a right to make assumptions of your life? To judge, comment, gossip, spread rumors?

Because some of them probably are sorry for taking you for granted when they had a chance to be in your life. Because their lives don’t shout total freedom. Because their lives are empty. Or simply because when they talk about you the spotlight is taken off them for a while.

Maybe you where a doormat for so long they got use to stepping on you.
Once you stood up and fought your worth they saw your beauty and your glow and they missed their cute little doormat.

Today’s thought is simple……

Life’s circle is fair.
what is given to you will be fair.
Sometimes its not fair…….

But what you make out of it, is what counts…

Some of us are fighters, strong woman, vigilant in fighting for what we want.

Even when others prejudice remarks is meant to break you down,
You still manage to smile, rise and stand tall.

So today celebrate being a woman.
Celebrate being able to rise out of the ashes.
Celebrate being able to wear heels.
Celebrate being able to show what your made of.

Rise, shine, smile ……
Love even if you have been hurt.
Enjoy each day…

As it is given as a gift.

Don’t listen to judgmental remarks of those who’d love to see you fail.

Xxxx

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karma’s wrath

Lost,
I was,
’till I was found
Broke,
Bound,
Shaken,

Love
Healed a broken
Wounded
Soul,

Strengthened
My very core,
Leaving
Perpetrators
Broken
And sore,

With
Victory
No longer
Was I
The weak,
Victorious
His love
Made
My womanhood
soar,

Karma
Kicking
Dust
To what
Once
Was…..

Me….

The words Canvas

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