Cluster fuck


I am a train wreck
Of industrial proportions.
I lean on nothing and everything
All at once…
My shadow is light grey
And my mind lost it’s
Register so pretty much
Every thing is a scale of empty.

I am a forest of emotions
And cluster of vines
And a blink of twinkling
Shadows.
I am aware of gravity
Yet it seems to operate
On everything but me
I am unsteady – I know this.
I am afloat – I see this.
The ground refuses to
Magnetise my feet and
Order me to stand – I feel that.

I am a cold image
Of air and light.
It could be both good
and bad…
As I see it
I am afloat
And it isn’t by choice.
It would be better if I’d
Jumped down from a plane
Knowing the ground
Would inadvertently receive me.

Daphney Em Molapo
14/08/2017
20:46

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Mind’s beauty

And my thoughts will center,
Gather at the foot of the water
And become the driving force
To my reign.
My crown, black as the night,
Will shake in the wind
But remain my bijou –
My jewel among diamonds.
I will seed in the sand
A plant with a shadow
of true calm.
And the strings of my heart
Will pull with the wave force
Of waters kin to war.
And my thoughts will centre,
Gather at the foot of the water.

Daphney Em Molapo
01/09/2017
01:11

My foe’s blood

I painted in my foe’s blood 

Made for magnificent Red.
It’s messed up – I know
But in all fairness I’d announced
My intent to rise again,
It really should have been plain
To him that I’ll be chasing
Him with an axe soon enough.

I painted in my foe’s blood
It made for an interesting red.
The canvas lit up on fire
At the intensity of my rage.
My next stance I took dire
Air in my lungs and held my
Ribcage close to my back
Despite the pain of press.

I painted with my foe’s blood
It made for a device spell.
I cast it right before the veil
Fell and my true thoughts
Revealed the similarities
To sleeping beauty’s apple.
I’m the wicket witch in crown
And fully aware of the potential
To age out of fairness.
Though I do protest,
I am aware of time’s passing
And I am hopeful of a glint
Of change right before my sire
Tries to avenge his lost innocence.

Daphney Em Molapo
01/08/2017
23:56

Last

The last century has been a mess,

My name, friend, is calm,

It’s chaos and the bridge

To insanity  all at once. 
The last months have been a cluster-fuck

Of feelings originating in the 

Krypt of an Egyptian mummy

– held together by wraps of

Punishment or something. 

It is a wagon of wheels and a mess.
The last night has been a bit odd;

Closing in on me in ways

Only a witch could describe

For only the world would 

Break at the seams hearing it

All told.
The last breath

Was beautiful release – of sorts
Daphney Em Molapo

18/07/2017

Singing L.O.V.E tell me what’s happening to me

I was stolen 

I was stolen

Cat-called and followed.

I was insulted and he knew 

Just the right words to break me.

My tomorrow too uncertain to 

Consider, I was stolen. 
The reality of my surrounding 

Is dark pain, I’m in a boot 

And the car is strolling through 

Neighbourhood after neighbourhood 

And no one notices my abductors

As anything but a few guys

Going on their way…
I was stolen 

Beneath the street light 

And passersby looked away,

Trying to protect themselves they

Let them take me like fresh meat

For a slaughterhouse. 
These butchers dare said it 

Was “just business. ”

If I had just not been “this hot.”

I was stolen 

And all he could say

Was “be quiet, or die”
Daphney Em Monaco

17/05/2017 11:39

South Africa is on fire and the flames seem most interested in the women and children.  GOD HELP US.

– image from google

Predator’s prey Child 

Woman have you forgotten, 

The plausible innocence 

In a young cub?

Have you lost your mind

Teaching your child the victim

Stance while you fought 

Through their enemies? 

You’ve taught your child

To run to you and hide

And watch while you take

On the dragons for them?

Your protection has made you

Their God, imagine the betrayal 

Of your death as it eventually  occurs.

You’ve turned your child to prey

To be fed on by monsters in

Their closeted mindset

Because you became fully

Invested in providing them reasons

To remain innocent enough 

To innovatively never live.

That way they never hurt right?

What is with you woman?

Turning your little wolf 

Into a hunter’s best catch – scared. 
Daphney Em Molapo

06/05/2017   

10:06

Love Google images,  they inspire.

Beyond the writer’s desk

Beyond the writer’s desk

Are linen sheets that go

Unused; they war with words lest

The words think themselves

Worthy adversaries to sleep.


Beyond the writer’s desk

Are mindblowing conversations

Associated with the pesky

Details of each word choice

In literary combinations. 


Beyond his desk

Is a life blurred by the pen,

Ink is brighter than usual 

At this point, so he keeps writing. 

Alliterating concepts like

No paint brush might colour. 


It is all in no faith,

But perceived knowledge

That is purged perfectly

Profound at the Crown of his

Mind – a mind no doubt

Rehearsing the stage form of

Writ proof.

His influence of the masses

Is never what it seems

Beyond the writer’s desk.

Daphney Em Molapo

05/05/2017 23:14

Pic from Google, while I love you!

In love 

Ever been in love with love? The concept is overwhelming if not blinding. It’s the reason I prefer to be in love with you,
The reason only you will do
And mostly the reason
Many times you are here
In my mind filling up
the loops of grey with red.

It’s a valentine spectacular
In my lungs. And if I was
To forget, the need to breathe
Would remind me.
I miss us so much
I’m a charge away from
Straight up combustion.
So I ask 1 last time:
Have you ever been in love
with love? Would you prefer to be in love with me?

Daphney Em 

02/05/2017

08:19

Please read mine

 

It’s a story by a ghost

Named silver. Not for her eyes

But for her shine – reflective in a way.

She’d happily shed a smile

For the sake of barrier breaking;

She’d consequently drive

A melody through your heart –

It’s connected to the rest of you –

And would move you no problem.
It’s a story by a boy named courage;

He’d known early scars

But loved like he could never

Be hurt again. Like a man

Encased in amour for war’s sake.

He is ready to hit the ground

And chase darkness out through

Love’s valour.

 

So please read me.

The story of a blind man

Who wrote memoirs in speech

And cast blessings between the

Lines like authority was his.

His name always a day close

To being mentioned

And endurance the only reason

You learn from him.

His patience is in his voice

When you jot it down.
Daphney Em Molapo

29/04/2017

23:36