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OrdinaryVeryNot beautifulAt allSo what about herScares meInvadesMy inner calm?Disturbs my senseOf whatI amWho I thoughtMyself to beForced to faceAnd not avoidThe truth of what this means:If I outrivalOrdinaryYet itEclipses meThere is no wayI can competeHe...

Order is the semblance of understanding, like a sturdy ship upon which we sail precariously above the oceans of suppressed concerns.The steady sway of the ocean can appear as an alluring expanse of conquered space until at once, the unexpected dangers of...

6 years ago

The Identity of Joyce Whitman

written from an idea that came to me at work.

Joyce tapped a pen against the IRS Auditor’s desk nervously. The dark haired auditor was quietly reading from a stack of papers. “So, this year you have worked in twelve states, earning $448,227 dollars from 37,000 some odd hours of work this year.” The p...

8 years ago

I Am

The goddess of suffering speaks.

This poem only available on Stories Space. If you are reading it elsewhere, it has been stolen.I amNothing.AndSomething.Something andNothingThat float in the ether,Shadows of grace on the ancient days;Patters of rain on the rocks of suffering;Bolts of blu...

10 years ago

Who are we, the misplaced people?

Trying to find my identity as a South African

What is it to be South African? Who are we this multiracial nation?Broken down and reformed Tottering around like a child learning to walk Every little thing seems to push us down But we get up and start againTrying to find an identity When all around us...

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