So who doesn’t have time now?
Amid the pandemic.
Alongside the hours:
bodies moving slowly
in small spaces
going in circles
like second hands
on a weathered clock
hanging on wallpapered concrete.
“When I have time,
we can make plans.”
Saving face;
biding time.
“Hello, can I help you?”
“Hi, yes. I’m looking for…”
Time.
Measured in loneliness.
Seven autumns have passed
leaves fallen
trodden on
swept up
much like dreams forgotten
(abandoned).
Renewal: cyclical hope of change
illuminated by colourful explosions,
a simple wish from crying eyes.
“Please, hear me.”
Sometimes it arrives
like an unexpected flowering
in the middle of a dry winter.
A chance encounter, but brief.
Yet beautiful enough to sustain hope.
Click on the link below to access a PDF version of notes, questions and a memo for completing the square on quadratic equations:
CLICK HERE TO DOWNLOAD PDF: Afrikaans Taal Study Notes
It’s the opposite of loneliness
but you can still feel alone in it
where wispy word won’t cut it
clear, no. It just won’t do.
Sometimes it just isn’t enough
and the cravings for something else overpowers
this.
And nobody knows what that something is,
that some
thing.
Is this the place affection comes to die?
Will it lie here, lapping the tears away,
while the void expands
like those black holes?
Anti-matter matters much.
What to do with an empty bed,
and a full heart that feels hollow?
What to do?
Click the above link to download the PDF: summary of various types of fatorising for algebra. Includes:
My soul is effervescent
but you can’t dissolve me
in brown liquor
because I stick like a
bumper sticker
don’t hate me ‘cause
my love is thicker
Here we go, standing in line
with the sweet smell of innocence
and screaming delight.
Thus with a push we arrive
in our ferris wheel seat.
The light is as bright as noise,
and up we go.
It’s curious how it looks
from up here, still a bit strange
moving backwards but upwards.
The wind blows, and we shudder
but keep going till the top.
Oh look at the fireworks,
look at this climax!
But we dare not look down:
fear.
But a steady decline:
six feet under awaits, patiently
because Death knows eternity well.
Mr Individualist 