'n venster na 'n ander wêreld


Maart 2014

reis na die suiwerson

Gister is net ‘n stille stem
‘n skim van wat-wees se dae
padjies geloop wat net vergeet wil word
oomblikke van blydskap

maar ‘n nuwe dag breek

en die gees bly gewillig
om nuwe onthous te kweek
want wat is die toekoms

net ‘n tuin vol beloftes
om goeie dinge te plant

ek wil saai
maar net goeie dinge maai
ek wil ek bly
want ek is ek

al was ek deur stormsee
en stofwolk dae in woesterny
ek is ook ‘n plant
en sal rank
in die skyn van my sielslig

en klim
tot die suiwerson
my hart dans
my siel is verkwik

(c) 2014 allen simpson

dark room

between the used socks and the books
lying all around like fallen comrades
in a corner in the dark room
awaits impending doom

a letter unopened that holds no promise
of good things to come
in that dark corner where the is no sun
there hides the nightmares

shall I open and read goodbyes
or just despise
the fact that everything comes in black
in my life

in a corner of my dark room
lies a letter I want to forget
written on it is just one word

on a bed in my dark room
she lies like a dream
the pills all around her
the tragedy all but scream
so many pills
and she is gone away
to just another dark room
in a hell of decay

(c) 2014 allen simpson

Wrath of the verse slinger

If you wish to bring harm
it is all right
hurt you with my fists I shall not
I will not stone you with a rock
or shout at you, my good man
but I will bring my wrath upon you
like a gentleman, like a poet
for in words
you will find yourself
measured and judged

For my words I will sling
like a knave with a slingshot
and your very soul
will know not
the privilege of being washed
Your name will be tarnished
by lines in black on white
that I promise you
if you bring harm
not to me
but to the innocent and pure

eat my words
feel my wrath
I am a poet, fear me

(c) 2014 allen simpson
inspired by the movie ‘The Raven and something Edgar Allan Poe said in the movie

The Break-up

Breaking up with someone special is hard to do… breaking up with something you love is even harder….

After a long dialogue with myself and long hours thinking hard about the ramifications of the decision I am about to make, after weighing every option and excuse I could think off I still think that maybe I should end my love affair with coffee… maybe…

But I love it’s warmth, it’s sweetness and it’s fragrant earthy scent, the way it complements my morning cigarette and the soft glow of morning sun on my coffee cup…

Coffee I love you but ….


(c) 2014 allen simpson

Days of the Dead

Have you ever had one of those dead days where everything is in ‘flatline-mode’? Random listlessness and a feeling that the whole world is empty and you do not have the patience and energy to fill it up with your inner moonshine (I don’t have inner sunshine).

Lees voort “Days of the Dead”

Vengeful Taxonomy: Your Chance to Name a New Species of Cockroach

Xestoblatta Jacobzumaii perhaps… why not immortalize the president by naming a species after him

Entomology Today

This new species of cockroach in the genus Xestoblatta needs a name.

By Dominic Evangelista

We’ve recently discovered a new species of cockroach in the genus Xestoblatta. It’s dirty, it’s ugly, it’s smelly, and it needs a name.

As part of our campaign to fund a project about how tropical landscapes drive evolution, we are offering the opportunity for anyone with enough cash to name this new species. Why would you want to name a down-and-dirty insect like that? Because it’s the most low-down and dirty of them all!

Dominic Evangelista

A Pest and all the Rest

Only about one percent of all cockroach species come into contact with humans regularly. You might even say that those one percent are our friends. This is not one of those species. It’s a native to northern Guyana and lives mostly in rain forests with lots of leaf litter.

We don’t…

View original post 855 more words


The fallen sky reveals its answers
in raindrops it silently cry
a rainbow is, just simplistic illusion
myriad colours just to fade away

my March is spent in broken memories
your voice, a fading melody
my heart is torn, by million moments
yesterdays now just fantasy

Autumn leaves paint the pictures
a promise of a frozen future
it looks bleak upon the ocean
of the grey weeping sky

my madness feeds the locomotive
that was my thoughts
and in the salted drops or remembrance
I confess all my resolve now without essence
all I have left is to survive or die

(c) 2014 allen simpson

sad hand

a lonely candle burns
it’s flames a warm invitation
on the cold kiss of the night
the blade lies so easy
in the sad hand

there are such promises
but the one to keep them will see the hell
there are so many promises
the lure to do harm and speak the spell

the man stands so sure there is glee
he has done it so many times before
if there is any justice gods I wish
someone to stop him before…

there are such promises
but the one to keep them will see the hell
there are so many promises
the lure to do harm and speak the spell

I look up into his eyes
and hope in me dies
it is the ripper Jack
and all I see in my future
is painted in pitchblack

there are such promises
but the one to receive them will bleed red
there are so many promises
but they all lead to the gates of the dead
the blade lies so easy
in the sad hand

(0) 2014 allen simpson
Inspired by ‘From Hell’ by Tim Burton, the movie about Jack the Ripper

Weirdo, go to hell

What is your definition of weird? Who wrote the book, the manual that states what the definition of weird is… A dictionary might give some answer but is it the answer? Do we define too easily what we do not understand?

People are too lazy to learn about things they do not understand… There are people that call innocent people ‘Satanist’ just because they dress differently or tell people they are going to hell just because they are from another religion.

What sick believe system gave anyone the right to judge each other? In Ireland bombs explode because of religion, as in Nigeria, in Africa innocents get blamed for witchcraft and get burned alive…


when die fires burn out and all is left in ashes and a judgement day comes will Who-Ever-God-Really is just look them in the eyes and say:”You burned people in my Name, you are weird… so go to hell.”


(c) 2014 allen simpson

This Side of Time

As I sit here, the room filled with the smoke of incense and cigarette smoke, the feeling of what is called Friday Night setting into my bones like a good herbal soap bath, some Dairy of Dreams haunting the atmosphere I think of how time is so relevant on so many levels… Old Year’s Eve is still a fresh memory even though it is March now as well as the weird day we had on the first of January but if I speak of it here some of my friends might kill me (not really) but when they read this a smile will cross their faces… they know what happened. Anyway isn’t it weird how New Years Day can feel like yesterday but still feels so long long ago and the fact that before we can really get how time screws us all over, it will be Christmas again… Lees voort “This Side of Time”


Murasie is 'n gedig uit my bundel Skaduland
Murasie is ‘n gedig uit my bundel Skaduland


stof dans in die wind
maar dis ek en jy
en die maan
blom soos ‘n roos
en jy is soos
‘n nagskim
en ek proe jou wasem
teen my lyf
jou eggo’s roep
oor die valleie in my siel
en my wêreld stort borrelend
in ‘n fontein van JA! JA! JA!
my hart gee in
as ‘la petite morte’
die simfonie in my wese bring
my klein dood bring lewe
die murasie word ‘n Taj Mahal
gebou in jou liefde…

(c) 2013 allen simpson

*geinspireer deur Mozart se 38ste simfonie… daardie Adagio kook!

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