There is a lot of walking and staring.
There is a lot of tinkering and thinking
Often lost in thought with no baring
Where am I?
Maybe in my mind may be out of my mind
On a quest to find
A poem
I want to write.

If you read my blog you will know that I am a writer without credentials, but when are you qualified to be a writer and when are you allowed to share your techniques?
I do not have a 5step plan to full proof good writing, this is just a writer (me) who shares a process of how I get it done, I think a guilty pleasure of writers is writing about writing and that’s basically what I am doing here.
There are so many variables for me when it comes to writing, it is different processes for me to write a blog and to write a poem and there is a difference between a piece I will perform and a piece for reading, and then again there is a difference between a live performance and a video, there are many little nuances to writing, for me and with each small variation I approach it a little bit differently.
How I write a poem.
If I write a poem, and I have no idea or topic where to start I have a blank slate, Then I enjoy just sitting with my book open in front of me and pen at the ready I try and be comfortable whatever that means for the occasion tea, wine, sit, walk, lay down, inside or outside and then as weird as this may sound I try and be open I try and make my eyes take more in I try to see where I am in and then I like just to place the pen on the paper and even if I word does not plop out I like pressing the pen on the page as if to say let something out kind of you would just sit on a toilet, giving your stomach the opportunity to choose not forcing just creating the best place to realise art, that’s why the pen must touch the paper, often I end up doodling or just drawing margins but my hand is moving and I am hearing the sound of the pen and paper making all that shallow breath sounds, the sounds the feeling the idea even the look of it stimulates my mind to think in this way as if I am already doing it so now it’s just to finish.
Then I would play with a sentence that just inspires me to write:
The day I….
No longer do…
There was a night…
Silly words or sentence I can off the cuff just finish I like saying them out loud and then maybe that inspires something and then I go from there, I enjoy going for walks and saying the words I wrote out loud sometimes I just need to hear how it sounds.

No longer do we just stand like bent flowers under a harsh wind
Now we stand strong like trees that shake hands with the stars…
I will finish this a bit later
That’s the idea of it inspire myself, if it goes well I feel my hand fill with a rush of blood as I hunger to write about what is close to heart now it is not just a sentence now it’s a poem about how we stand after every fall or about our endurance or about a person that just kept going, the words transform from simple letters to droplets of my blood as it is not just something it is words that come from the well of my heart.
When it’s not going good it cost a lot of staring and walking, and often it’s just words on a page I don’t feel connected and my doodles filled the page and still nothing I get distracted and feel irritable this phase does often happen, what I try and do then is to walk and make a cup of something have a conversation with a friend distract myself from this thing for a good ten minutes maybe more (again not an exact science) and then I revisit the work and I can repeat this process a couple of times but I know one of the most important things is to focus on sitting even if it is for more than an hour, it should be more than two even if nothing comes the key is to stay focused on what I wanted to do and that is to write a poem.

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When I have an idea if it is “standing” I try and see what standing looks like, and then describe it, how would I describe a man with his arms on his sides? What else stands, and use that as metaphors. Something a friend told me is that he tries to engage all senses and that is a fun little task I at times do is to try and bring in all five senses without making it obvious.
Something new that I have started is opening a dictionary and seeking synonyms or trusty google dictionary.
There are many knives to carving out a poem, and that is what it feels like to me at times I have this chunk of wood and I want to reveal what I see and it will not take one mere swipe of a knife.
To reveal one’s heart takes time and if you try and short cut the process you are doing an injustice to yourself.

With time I will reveal more, I am thinking of making a Friday blog about how I write not sure yet if you would like to read more of this then just leave a comment or if you have other ideas to write about a specific something for a specific day let me know the comments is open to all.
Thank you all for reading and keep chasing your dreams friends.
Peace and Love.

I do not know what to do but I know right now that I can not stop, there are many questions and attempting to answer them I feel as if it only brings more questions, but what I know is right now I must not stop. stopping, makes it harder to start, stopping sometimes gives space for your mind to bitch about you, and question your sanity, it seems that you receive most damage between rounds, obviously, you are getting punched in the round but sitting back in your corner and your body has time to realise what has been happening and wants to start the recovery process and yet there are still rounds left, legs stiff you stand up here we go again, when running long distance it is dangerous to just stop and sit down before you finish, getting up and getting back into stride seems, now more of a battle than the race itself.

I guess it is not that I do not know what to do, its more that I am tired, it is being unsure how many rounds are left, it is being afraid because the end is still uncertain, afraid of trying and not making the finish line, what race/fight is after this?
I know what I need to do but the outcome is uncertain, I think I have often made a success the finish line, but that’s not the line.

I don’t even think there is a line it is living this beautiful life alive as yourself, it is doing what you love, for me, it is writing this book, and doing what is required to finish it, but after that, there is more writing to be done, no line to cross no bell to be rung, but a life to be alive in.

The questions I have will reveal itself in the journey, will writing bring a stable income one day? I do not know, maybe but that’s not the last round nor finish line, I can not stop to think about it, I know what I need to do now is write as much as I can and spend time with this love of mine.
I must not burden this with fearful questions. I know what I must do its just, I am afraid to do it.
I honestly believe many of us know what we have to do but we are paralysed by fear and disguise fear with questions, and trying to figure out things, but what we want is certainty and often when it comes to things of the heart the answer is faith.

Why do I write? I trust the feeling inside me that speaks to me, I trust this compass called love. I have no clue where this is going to go, what will happen with this blog, all I know is that I want to write and keep at it and I want to write more honest I want to create blogs that inspire and that you enjoy to read I love writing so I write and I trust.
What will happen with the books I am working on? No clue I have my hopes of what I want to achieve so I work at it, but right now all I can do is trust, I mean, I can die while I write even this pieces, and then what I don’t know I just trust.
Does any of it make sense? Honestly, I am not sure, i don’t think so but I have faith and I trust.

I hope that you enjoyed reading.
Thank you.
Peace and Love.

Word, the magic language of our heart.
Words, the life of my love, Poetry
Words can you help me find her.

I, dislike labels, I don’t like boxing people or ideas in, I don’t like placing limits on any form of creativity, and yet I have this unease of anger growing in me because I have this love called poetry and people are using her, people dress anger, resentment, pain in a costume that resembles her but I know how she sounds I know her touch and this you bring before me this is not her.
I do not know if the people have been deceived or that they are trying to deceive but my Love she is getting hurt, and still, she is waiting for all with open arms, and I am glad I hope all can be embraced by her, so you can know who she is.

I am not a poet laureate I have not studied language, I am not an expert in any form. (I struggle to spell basic words)
I love poetry.
Poetry has transformed over the years, and it seems every couple of years it goes through a transformation process, that there is some kind of poetic rebel that does something different and call it poetry, that sticks to his or her idea of it and poetry transforms adapts to that style.
Now we have slam poetry, and we have open mic nights, I wrote, often and I try to write poems and when I felt brave I would read it to a friend, and I did not think of it as poetry just me writing, until one day a friend showed me Anis Mojgani shake the dust, my mind broke and I could not stop listening to him and discover other poets Buddy Wakefield, Andrea Gibson, Derrick C. Brown (who as well does comedy) Shane Koyczan, I listen to them in a playlist on shuffle and repeat, I started imitating their styles and just got swallowed in “performance poetry” and then I started reading poets of old and I saw how things changed with the passing of time.



Poetry, darling where did you go?
I hear you between their teeth
I hear you underneath angry words
I smell you on their broken breath
Poetry, darling do not die.




It seems that poetry has become popular again and with that, it seems to go through its new metamorphosis, “Insta poetry” and ” Insta poets” There are channels dedicated to poetry on youtube it is an amazing win for poetry and poets and I enjoy all the different ways poetry is being expressed on any platform, it is changing and I think change is good but I don’t want us to lose her, forget her heart.
What I am trying to rant here is that I hear spoken word pieces and they seem to be an outburst of anger and it seems focused on the hurt, It seems to be a selfish weapon hammers swang for one, and it even changed to shock value let me drop a word in here that will catch them, off guard.
I believe poetry is to transform pain and translate it to bring awareness and understanding I believe poetry is a map that navigates the heart and that’s why it often is a mysterious path and everybody gets a different meaning.
BILLY COLLINS: “Of all the things poetry is, I think the most important thing it is, it provides us with a history of the human heart. We have lots of histories, of course. And we have history departments in universities. And we have histories about truces and about boundary disputes, and inventions, and wars. But poetry is really the only history we have of the human heart.”
“starting with Catullus and moving up to today, they’re all speaking the same language. All these poets are really wrestling with the same things. And they’re wrestling with emotions of fear of death or embracing death, gratitude for what God has given them, loneliness, adventure, failure to assert oneself. They’re all humans. Dante, Milton, Wordsworth, you see the same stuff in there. The language sounds very different. But underneath it all, we’re all after the same thing.”


She is near to my heart and I am only writing in concern that we have lost her and adopted an imposter a selfish weapon aimed to cause separation and pain, that is not her she is strong and powerful she is a bright light in the darkest places burning blind eyes open she is a whisper to a brittle soul and she screams to the lost, she defends the invisible she is a light that exposes she is our true hart please do not lose her.
It is hard to navigate the heart, between all our hurt and pain but that is the craft of poetry and the beauty while you write you discover the honest you not just the resentful and angry or in pain you, she helps reveal you and in revealing you, it helps others discover themselves.
My plea is don’t just spend more time with your heart and let poetry find you.

Word, the magic language of our heart.
Words, the life of my love, Poetry
Poetry, you are not lost
We are, come find us, my darling, please.

Thank you for reading
Peace and Love

how are you? Could be the most asked question in the world and yet it’s the question we give the least attention.

First I hated the question because it seemed that people did not stay long enough to hear the answer before moving on past you or to the conversation they actually want to start.

So I became snarky and sarcastic answering it in all different ways trying to make a point, the point was that you don’t really care.
So this is some ways I would answer,
How are you depends on what cycling, okay, running, not the best, amazing in bed I can sleep for hours?
Or if they asked are you okay I would be I’m not a grocery store.

And many Afrikaners have this “goed en jy?” greet And my reply would be good and you only to realize they have already answered and now we are in a loop!
My sarcasm was loaded and I spread the bullets far and wide even making my friends victim, I did not like how cynical I have become.

Now I answer the great and powerful question simply by stating the truth!
And the truth is always good!
Now, this was not overnight nor was this a mantra I chanted and started to believe NO!

First truth had to be established and truth has a name, Jesus! God is good that is what we say and we say we believe, so if God is good and He Loves us how can it be bad with me, before the verbal bullets fly, I am not saying that tears don’t fall and that the sun don’t burn yet what I am saying is I have realized that God has got my back so I am good. Always, again this was not overnight I had to seek Him first and discover if He was as we say or sing He is, and I have realized that He is not He is far beyond what we can comprehend!!!!!!!
Nothing changed in my life the good the bad the ugly all still stayed, the shit I stepped in still smelled and flowers I planted stayed flowers, and there were hardships I faced and moments when life felt dark yet I could not judge God on what was happening. We have fallen in a trap where we judge God according to our experience, we sentence God based on feelings, OUR FEELINGS

I have now a calmness in me I have never felt before, and that is because I am slowly letting go of weight that I was never meant to carry, I do not have everything in life figured, tragedy strikes and I cry and hurt yet the heaviness which I once felt is dissipating.
Because I know Him and I know whatever happens he is with me smelling my shoes, seeing the good the bad and the ugly.

So How are you?

Thank you for reading
Peace and Love

Why Blog?

I have previously stated that I honestly enjoy breathing or should I say writing, and I have always been allured by a blog just a space to write and read people expressing themselves in the way of their breath.

Now I am not sure how this space will look in a month or twelve, but I know now my fingers are hungry and the keyboard is a buffet.

Now there is so much accessible space for us all to find what we enjoy and do it; we are in a time of great potential and it’s time to be brave and take the steps toward the things your heart is beating,

As in Shrek better out then in.


Yes at times thing might stink even for you, but to me that just smells like fear, do not stay away from what you love just because you might miss.

The process is part of the process.

So why the blog the simple answer I want to, and so I started and trust me I have already made my share of mistakes, but that’s the beauty they are mine but I am not them, with this blog I just want to write, no ultimate goal or five year plan but only the enjoyment of breathing.

If there is something, you want to do small, or chattering teeth scary for you go do it because doing the things your heart whispers makes you know your home much deeper.

Let it rip let it out.

Hope you enjoyed reading

Peace and Love