A selection of poetry rooted in domestic humor, Cape Town and South Africa

Sunday, July 01, 2018

The Emperor's new clothes

Before I borned was I dreamed.
Fed, watered, the lazy oxygen coming and going while my boozle woozle
Pianod and overflowed with celebratory anticipation, wanting a son.

Was me naked?
Debatable but irrelevant. Clothed by drowsle.
My first day of school. I didn't feel too naked, actually, thanks
But there's a fair chance I was, clothed by no worries.

Adults only, lonely owner. Painfully nude, adam's garden.
Lost ma fig leaf, anorexia nerdoza. Ungladly present.
Clothes are Such a wonderful invention. Just great.
I wish I had a personality, I enthused to my TheRapist.
Hiding behind nothing. But the bastards found me.
Deathly kaal.

Mortgage, Overdraft, Establishment, Sadly,
Now cover me in necessary windshields.

Dearest Mumsy,
Thanks for the gift of today and this life and these promises I must keep,
For I see your dream waits,  patient like
And comes sooner than any mite guess or know,
Becos another waterless birth, naked debut with a light protective
Suit of invisible clothing, is all I need
Before embarking.


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