Author: Richard van Rensburg

Ambitious Writer | Masters Psychology Student | Passionate Literary Lover

you’re next

I sit here
waiting
sipping my
poison that
makes me brave
that makes
the truth escape
through barriers
I’ve built up

I transform into
a creature of
lustful longing
and I begin my
search for my
new victim

I seek and
walk my catwalk
zigzag along
the walls of
the pounding
beat

I see
I lock my
eyes on
I take a
shot of
clear liquid
and stumble
up to you

oh yes
YOU’RE MY NEXT

SCAR

“If you dont have any shadows you’re not in the light.”
          – Lady Gaga

I wish I could be strong;
I wish that I was wrong.

The pain cuts me deep,
deep like the ocean,
an ocean of emotion.
A world of pain and hate
only slices –
I try to win,
struggle along
bearing my knives.

Watch as the skin            parts,
parts like a red sea:
flows
drips

down

down

down

staining my existence
and cleaving skin
into a natural tattoo of pain:
Testament to Struggle.

Some memories never fade;
Some emotions constantly raid…
Slits sneak stealthily, steadily
smearing smirks:
soundless, subtle.

I carve myself
to tame myself;
I tame myself
to control myself.

S C A R:
Slide
Cut
Anger
Relief

Scar-face, scar-arm, scar-heart, scar-life…
Stained pain.

Pray to a being who listens;
pray for help:
beg for Salvation.

Only my friends
Save me from myself.

Take a bow:
smile, smirk, snub.

Approve, applaud.

Crimson Regret

Understanding that to love
was to give of myself:
uncensored; pure;
and naked.

Knowing I would willingly let
you into chambers which
were always empty;
empty for a reason…
Haunted by nothingness
but constantly waiting for something-ness.

Knowledge is power –
and power can destroy!
I destroyed myself
in letting you walk
the corridors of my emotions!
I let you in
and you walked
and walked…
I forced you to walk!:
I pushed you!

Oblivious shades you worse:
my fault; not yours.
I knew the toxicity
of your love
yet I wanted to feel it!
I wanted to hurt!
I wanted to burn!
I wanted to cry!
I wanted to die.

Now I sit;
I cry:
crimson regret.

Spirit of Her

(In a calm, friendly and conversational manner.) You know, all my friends have girlfriends… It gets kinda annoying after a while seeing how they act around them, how they try to impress them. But I see the way they talk about the girls behind their back… They don’t love their girlfriends… They love the thought of a girlfriend. Because it gives them power, a sense of manhood. (Pause, thinking.) But what is it that makes a man? A real man?

You know, I’ve always been different like that… I’ve never seen girls as trophies… I’ve never seen them as prizes to be won. Maybe it’s the way I was raised… (Getting slightly more serious, but showing compassion.) Yeah, that’s it. Most of these guys, their parents are divorced… Their homes lack love. Maybe that’s why they treat the girls the way they do… Maybe it’s their way of dealing with what’s happening at home. But that doesn’t make it right…

Recently, I’ve really been longing for a girlfriend… Because I want to feel loved(Pause, shift to slight sadness.) My mom died when I was only eight years old. She got cancer. Brain cancer. (Showing some upset.) I still remember the hospital visits… The white walls… The clinical air… The hopeless atmosphere… She deteriorated really quickly. She was bringing in most of the money to the family, so when she passed on my dad had to work overtime to keep my sister and I in private schools. So I’ve been lacking a bit of that love… Not that my dad doesn’t love me, he really does, it’s just not the same as that motherly love, you know…

Maybe that’s why I want a girlfriend… Need a girlfriend… Someone to love me… Someone to love… (Trying to lighten the atmosphere, smiling fondly.) I’ve always had this image in my head of this girl and I lying outside on a warm summer evening next to a pool, starring up at the cloudless sky filled with stars… Just being happy in each others’ presence and sharing pointless stories… To me that’s love… A bond between two people that is more valuable than all the world’s gold… (Pause. Deep in thought.)

(Looking upwards at the heavens. Truthfully, on the verge of tears.) Mom, I really miss you… I just want to feel your warm hug… I love you… I know this may sound weird but I believe your soul is now inside the girl who is meant for me… (With notable determination and desperation.) And I’m going to find her mom… I’m going to find her and I’m going to be with you again… Because that’s love mom… That is love.

Nobody Loves Me

(Onstage is the boy lying on the floor, on his back. He holds a small hand mirror in his hand. As the piece starts he raises the mirror and looks at himself in it. His arm is straight, not bent.) I shouldn’t even be here. On this planet, in this place. (He sits up, with his legs folded.) Everyone always says I’m the different one… The freak! I have no friends. Nobody loves me. My parents couldn’t handle me. They said I ruined their lives, that I destroyed their dreams. Their dreams? (Standing up.) What about my dreams?

We were happy, I was happy, until she came. A sweet baby sister named Angel. The irony. They gave her all the attention, all the love. So I made her go away. I clipped the angel’s wings and used her halo as a Frisbee for the neighbour’s dog. (Showing his excitement.) Oh the excitement of destroying something that was a destroyer itself. A destroyer of the already depleted love my parents had for me! I felt alive for the first time, like I had purpose! Flames of passion burned inside of me!

They told me I was sick… I smiled because it was a happy day for me, I thought they would be proud of me. But they sent me away… Nobody loves me. (Becoming paranoid.) I’m trapped inside this big, glass case… As the darkness shines in on me I wonder how to escape, how to escape this glass cage of society. They study me from the outside. Some say I destroy because I have a chemical imbalance. Some say it’s because I have a warped perception of reality. Others just shake their heads and pray.

I look into the mirror everyday and every night. I stare deep into my own eyes and try catch a glimpse of my soul… Is it black? Or maybe navy blue? (Smiling as he says the line.) I smile because I know it’s the only way to get through life. (Staring at an audience member.) I’m not different, I’m just like you – wearing a mask to hide the pain. As I stare into the mirror I feel the guilt, the guilt, the guilt. It burns like acid inside my chest.

(Slightly confused but also fascinated.) I see a brief reflection of an Angel with broken wings and a lopsided halo. (He suddenly becomes scared.) The angel smiles a smile of recognition. My existence is rattled. I scream. (Getting really angry.) I hate you for taking them from me! I hate you for turning the world on me! I hate you for living! (Pause. The hate turns into desperation. He drops to his knees.) I begin to weep until sleep drags me out of reality.

(Reaching out to touch his reflection as if he is looking at a mirror – which is the audience.) Each new day I stare at my reflection hoping it changes… If only I had love from someone to help me change… But nobody loves me.

Marilyn

“Hollywood is a place where they’ll pay you a thousand dollars for a kiss and fifty cents for your soul.” One of many famous quotes by Marilyn Monroe, an iconic sex symbol and talented actress. She has become the paragon of celebrity and she, along with many others, have experienced all sides of fame and have become irremovable subjects of pop culture.

The painting entitled “Marilyn” by Andy Warhol is a famous piece of pop art created in 1962. Pop Art developed in the mid-1950s and draws on recognisable images from popular culture. Pop artists elevated commonplace objects to fine art. Andy Warhol’s work usually commented on the condition of society. He was fascinated with society’s obsession with fame and noted that this obsession was almost religious.

Marilyn, however, was treated by society in a similar way as an everyday object: used then thrown away. Maybe this was one of the comments Warhol was making. Monroe was born Norma Jeane Mortenson in 1926 in Los Angeles. In 1946 Monroe had her break and signed her first film contract, changing her name to Marilyn Monroe and dyeing her hair blonde. Within a decade she had become a coveted international star despite her insecurities as an actress.

Fame was something Monroe had to deal with on a daily basis. She found it difficult to deal with strangers obsessing over her.  Fame placed a magnifying glass to her life but she did, however, realise that fame is fickle. Fame also contributed to the failure of her three marriages.

In the end she shocked the world when she was found dead in 1962 at her Los Angeles home. Speculation began that she was murdered but official reports claimed it was a suicide caused by barbiturate poisoning, a drug used for treating depression. It is believed that twelve people killed themselves within one day of hearing their favourite star was dead. One victim even wrote the note, “If the most wonderful and the most beautiful soul in the world thinks she has nothing to live for, then what do I have?”

So what makes so many people obsessed with fame? An American psychologist discovered that in the 1950s 12% of children agreed with the statement “I am an important person”. By the end of the 1980s that figure changed to 80%.

People constantly aspire towards fame. They do not realise that fame can control an individual and can manifest self-doubt. Fame can corrupt and destroy.  Stars are humans too and also have problems. They are chewed up by the public and either swallowed or spat out – constantly judged and evaluated.

Lady Gaga, pop superstar, has many references to fame in her work. Last year she released a fragrance called Fame. It is the first ever black perfume. One of its components is the belladonna flower, which is poisonous. Lady Gaga explained the fragrance saying, “It’s black like the soul of fame, but invisible once airborne.” She is making a comment on the darker side of fame.

Not everyone deals with fame in the same way, take Princess Diana. She was born Diana Spencer in 1961 and became a Lady in 1975. She married Prince Charles, heir to the British throne and had two sons, Prince William and Prince Harry. She was a favoured member of the British royal family. Diana used her fame to serve the people. She supported many charities and worked with people in need.

She divorced Prince Charles in 1996 but  continued to support charities and help raise awareness. She used her celebrity status to help contribute to a more compassionate world. She also had her insecurities – suffering from bulimia and depression. While in Paris on the night of 30 August 1997 her car was trying to evade the pursuing paparazzi. The car crashed. She died a few hours later in a Parisian hospital. Had it not been for her fame and the world’s obsession with her, she might have still been alive today.

Quite interestingly Elton John wrote a song called “Candle in the Wind” in 1973 in honour of Marilyn Monroe. He rewrote the song in 1997 as a tribute to Princess Diana. In this version he calls her “England’s rose” and says, “Now you belong to heaven and the stars spell out your name.”

Fame gives one an exceptional amount of power. They can choose to use it for the betterment of the world or they can manipulate it for personal gain. Fame is like a drug, it seems to provide brief euphoria but in the long run it can be very damaging. As Andy Warhol once predicted quite succinctly, “In the future everybody will be world famous for fifteen minutes.” What will you do with your fame?

The Flash of the Bulbs

The flash of the bulbs ignite my passion;
screams of people inspire the vogue fashion.
Gifts of dedication infused obsession,
spotlights melt my truth to reveal the lie.
Sometimes the drugs take me beyond the high.
Eyes watch and wait for the expected downfall:
sometimes the cameras just seem that tall.
The flash is filled with lonely not fortune,
bulbs bright kill the soul like a deadly sin:
Fame, Glory, Cash the fake, false grin.

comma-strife

a continuation of the struggles
which we must all bare
through all the pain
and the acid that
burns at our emotions
and erodes our youthful innocence

a continuation of something more
a beating heart beats like
a beating sun that breathes its bold
breath of heat

a continuation of the pain
that we all feel not because it
destroys but because it creates more
than what we realize
for only out of the struggles
emerges the beautiful
as a pair is always defined
by the other
giving rise to definition

a continuation of the continuation
and a comma, to your pain
to your pain, a comma because worthy, you are
of the continuation to reach
the evading enlightenment of life

but this comma continues,
continues, comma, comma, comma-strife
until it
ends

fullstop