Capetonification

Life of a free man
No job
No rent
Nowhere to be
No one to see
Modern shackles
Drifting
Away as the day
Becomes long
We eat
We talk
We smoke
And drink
And watch the ocean.
It talks to us. Whispering.
Sshhhhhhhh...
Soothing us
Telling us its okay
The little cove we
Inhabit
Is a grayeyard.
Millions stranded
In death
As evidenced by
The cracked, bleached
Discarded and forgotten
Shells.
We six are the only
Humans left on this
Planet.
Free men.
Modern day strandloopers.
Reborn.
My turn
Has come.
I grab the toilet roll
The flag of our new-found
FREEDOM
And go shit in the
Sand.

Sometimes, I enter competitions for writing.
I don't seem to get anywhere though.
This was for about a metric ton of wine and some recognition on the labels of the makers.

I think it's because I probably suck dick at writing Haikus.
Anyway, I've written some Haiku's about wine, and where better to share my shitty-ass shit than on the shitty iceberg of my non-existent writing career, Capetonification!

Here we go folks:

1

Like sounds make a word
The elements make a wine
Earth, wind, water, vine.

2

Each as old as time
Spoken word and sacred wine
Bound eternally

3

As old as all time
Blessed is the fruit of the vine
Drink the history

4

No words in this world
Could ever describe its joy
Wine is not fluent

Now, go drink a bottle of wine on me.

-Tony-

Falling into the sea
the sea of Red
helpless in a storm I cannot control
drowning in her
I can't breathe
I don't want to

The light fades
I'm floating
warm
wet
beginning to forget

I swallow
let her in
surrender
to the peace

she floods my mind
drenches my soul
soaks my being

choking
succumbing

to the sea of Red

Not enough
can't find enough
enough whiskey to stop me
stop me thinking of her

my mind
it turns
turns to her
I fight it
fight it hard
but I lose

Not enough
can't find enough
enough whiskey to stop me
stop me thinking of her

I wait
a statue
pretending
pretending to work
feigning
feigning disinterest
she must come
must come

Not enough
can't find enough
enough whiskey to stop me
stop me thinking of her

I can't help but look
look for her
Silently begging
begging for a moment
a moment shared
a lock of the eyes
her all-knowing eyes
but it never comes
never comes

Not enough
can't find enough
enough whiskey to stop me
stop me thinking of her

The house is quiet.
It overlooks the breede river
and grey sea beyond.
Wind-curled waves chase each other in the heat of the retreating sun.
A lonely house stands sentry at the
Wall
Where the sea and the river meet.
I sip my beer.
It is the seventh.
The unlucky first of a second
Six pack.
Corpse-cold.
Pushing me into comfort
Dispersing the cares of the world
The sentry is a sullen
Memory
"it is our house." she used to say.
A dream within a dream.
Inception.
A burp breaks the silence
Or a fart.
I cant tell.
The beer bottle
Falls
Empty to the floor.
It doesn't
Break
And i reach for another.
Eventually they will stem the tide of
memories.