Sometimes you get addicted to the idea of being a spook, a passerby, a sojourner: drifting through the pages of life like a redundant letter without getting assimilated into any permanent narrative – friendly enough not to be a creep but translucent enough to be looked past and forgotten. It gives you the god-like perspective of a narrator/observer: detached and ephemeral enough to observe the subtle nuances of human behavior—the expedient nature of adulthood and the rampant double standards.

I am a runner. I’ve always been a runner. I’m addicted to running. I’ve never belonged anywhere. I am too empathetic, I care too much. Being a spook is the only way I can move along the world without absorbing all the sorrow that comes from an empathetic connection. I even long to run away from myself. Je suis d’ailleurs, Alcest sang. But I also long for a deeper intimacy with that one soul, that intimacy that transcends mortal inadequacies. The truth is, this world provides nothing like solace for a soul like mine, a Steppenwolf. The more I live, the more confusing it gets as the world strips you of all those illusions that buoyed you through childhood. Where will I stand in the dust of a done life?

© David2018



The Learned Jerk

Posted: August 26, 2017 in Poetry

He was charismatic, 

Verbally articulate 

Some thought him enigmatic 

Or straight out immaculate 

But man, did i see through him!

Saw what was busting through the seem

You might say I was severe a bit

But the dude was just full of it!

A jerk he was, though expensively learned

Paid well he did for school, and i find this sad:

For despite all that money, class was never earned.

David (Aug 2017)

“All it takes is one betrayal to steal away an entire future….”
(Steven Erikson—The Crippled God)

 I saw her that last night on stage

Face lit up like a glossy, colourful page

Dancing, smiling, pouring in all her soul

Her blonde hair free, her blue eyes aglow 

I cried that night as I watched it all

I realised then that i had lost my soul

Lost it to lies, and things I never loved

Lost it to a cold demon, to a shallow world

The dancing blonde reminded me of all i had lost

I had no more soul to pour, I was stuck in the frost

Frozen and wounded by the horrors of the past

When all is lost, how much longer can a man last?


Don’t Try 

Posted: June 18, 2017 in Poetry
Dont try_email

 ‘Cause When You Try Hard is When You die hard….Kanye West


Crossroads and junctions

Decisions and choices implied

A time to split the inert personalities

Torn asunder by the cardinal alternatives


The spinning top of self whirls ceaselessly

Which side to lean, which pole to incline

Between the comforts of the familiar

And the anarchy of the unveiled

One decision implying closure of 3 unexplored doors


“Life is a game of chance,” and the gods own the house

And whether you like or not, you have to cast the dice

Even when you know it’s heavily loaded

Free will is just an illusion, please don’t be offended

There are no oars to paddle this boat

But you have to give an impression of a fight

A futile gesture for the consolation of self


“At least I tried,” you’ll cry on your deathbed

Oblivious to the wise utterances of an enlightened sage

Who, even in death he still implores to us

“Don’t try!” his tombstone thus speaks

A prophet of realism, mistaken for a pessimist

“That’s very important: not to try, either for Cadillacs, creation or immortality. You wait, and if nothing happens, you wait some more. It’s like a bug high on the wall. You wait for it to come to you. When it gets close enough you reach out, slap out and kill it. Or if you like its looks, you make a pet out of it.”
– Charles Bukowski


Centaurs and Unicorns;

Mascularity versus Delicacy

Dancing around a whirling carousel,

chased by amorphous beasts of mythical yore-

Phoenixes, manticores, basilisks and chimeras,

flaming prefixes and roaring, devouring suffixes

with death and poisonous stings squeezed in-between.


the gods chose their beastly mounts and creepy  avatars

to inspire fear and rain judgement indiscreminately on mortals

It’s a bloody circus, a show of freaks to entertain the perveted

……..and our joker-like sovereign will alway have his last laugh



L.A. County Fair 2010 - 192





Posted: April 28, 2017 in Poetry

I talked of the Absurd, Camus’ style
and they called in the shrink, on speed dial
defeated, I shouted, “you’re all in denial!”
the guys in white took me away for a while.


it’s an empty white room, padded and proofed
that’s how they want my mind to be, whitewashed and “baby proofed”
has the world gone to sensitive, we now speak euphemisms
the neighbours don’t like it when I preach Absurdisms
“he talks too much reality, please put him on the watch list”
now the shrink feeds me trazadone. Damnit, I made it to the list



#Absurdism #Philosophy #AbertCamus

Love stoned

Posted: April 28, 2017 in Introspective prose

she thinks she walks around on tiny feet
but no matter how she tries, her shoes are always big
she smiles and waves, a beautiful soul i’ll ever meet
a meek sheep with a lion heart, stuck in a world of filthy pigs


she holds herself when all others crawl
a day without her is a monotonous bore
and yet she doesn’t know it, she is blind to her glow
i’ll forever be infatuated, around her i’ll hang even more…



i’ve only heard of Céline

but feel his claustrophobic despair

it’s a vast ocean of ceasless pain

and this ship is in dire need of repair


the Journey The End Of The Night,

sometimes begins with succulent kiss;

a promise of forever, some fairytale bliss

but this Paradise is dark, and this vlei is just a blight


existential angst,sinking hopes, the unanswered questions

the ugliness of mankind and the devastating cruel lies

it’ll all get better,” they shout, yet each passing day it only worsens

at the end of the night (a sweet promise) is where all the pain dies…..





©David 2017

Crying out (Hello World)

Posted: November 1, 2016 in Melancholy, Poetry

Hello world…

Will i be able to see you

in all your radiant beauty?

They sing that you are a wonderful place

They tell me you are beautiful

But my experiences have blinded me

i was stabbed in the eye by the ironies of reality

i can’t even see you through this veil of bitterness

i bleed from lies and deceit, broken by vile illusions

yet they tell me you are full of virtous deeds

they tell me honour still abide in your golden chambers

please, tell me where i went wrong

show me the beauty that you hide behind these scenes of pain

dear world, heal me if it pleases you

after all, I’m also human. don’t i deserve a break before i break ?






Lonely amongst “friends”

Posted: October 5, 2016 in Melancholy, Poetry

It gets lonely, he said; really lonely

I understood him, every damn word

Most of them just tolerate me

No love in them, not even hate

Sometimes I need love too. Hell, I can take hate anytime

Just for a change.


Some just keep you around to use you

They keep your number like a tow-truck’s

When their fast lives crash that’s when they call

They slow down enough for your services

Once done, they stare at you as you disappear in their rearview mirrors

They go on and never stop to pay or appreciate


It gets awfully quiet, especially when the walls close in

Who do you call when you are the tow-truck?

When “friends” are just a bunch of names in a phonebook

Who will really cry for you when you’re gone?

They might rail for the loss of your services

But who will miss your company?

The singer wept as he finished his lament

I got out of the club, and quickly forgot his name.


“Got so many friends, only so many times…” Ancient Highways: Van Morrison