Capetonification

Shitting in the Sand

admin — Mon, 18 Dec 2017 09:23:00 +0000

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.

Original post blogged on b2evolution.

Haikus about wine...

admin — Thu, 10 Nov 2016 17:34:00 +0000

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:

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

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

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

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

Now, go drink a bottle of wine on me.

-Tony-

Original post blogged on b2evolution.

Drown

admin — Tue, 20 Sep 2016 13:29:00 +0000

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

Original post blogged on b2evolution.

Not Enough

admin — Thu, 15 Sep 2016 15:34:00 +0000

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

Original post blogged on b2evolution.

River Mouth

admin — Sat, 03 Sep 2016 09:17:00 +0000

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.

Original post blogged on b2evolution.

Trouble

admin — Mon, 30 May 2016 16:25:00 +0000

Trouble is in my blood
a dead fathers final cursed gift
hereditary promiscuity
the type of moral ineptitude
that can lead a man to shelter the existence of a family
for a fuck
a romance.
I am a product
one part franchise
one part original sin
of this dark inheritance

Trouble is a mad infection
passed on by the box
Thirty frames per second
images of a culture drunk with debauchery
it spreads my disease
with no regard for borders
at a rate of millions
killing the righteous
uplifting the weak
empowering the great
selfish
and greedy
sycophants of this world

Trouble is in the words
so available on the web of all things
history's knowledge
for the cost of a few cents
the dead poets
call from their limbo
a warning
a shadow on the horizon
the promise
of a generation bent on eating itself
from within
Those words do not deter
they encourage
lead on

Trouble is an infatuation with the struggle against conformity
the birth of new society
a soft core revolution
skinny jeans
full body tattoos
beards and bald pussies
macs and iphones
Steve you saw it
YOLO motherfucker
just a god damned
facsimile

Pray
Pray this disease kills you quick
before you see
the metamorphoses
the monster
you will become

Original post blogged on b2evolution.

Her

admin — Wed, 25 Nov 2015 17:21:00 +0000

its a smell she has.
i freakishly sniff my fingers after they've been inside her
her smell
it is sex itself
zero to hard in 10 mental images
A Pavlovian reprobate
I think of her body.
breasts untouched by the effects of the world
small nipples
a pink so perfect
Like the buds of a flower personally crafted by god
long legs
firm flanks
sleek belly
smooth ivory skin
speckled in freckles.
I want to connect the dots with my tongue
on her oh-so-fucking-beautiful body

she's in my blood
strumming my heart
stretching it
tearing at it
slamming it
ripping it the fuck up
like some ode to Jimmy Hendrix

She is a goddess
Her body a temple
When I worship between those walls
my grip on reality weakens
the world is nothing
there are no thoughts
no memories
no cares
no responsibilities
no past no future
All that exists is that room
on that bed
at that moment
at that moment
I am uplifted
I am exulted
I am repented
saved
hallelujah

Some Call it love
Sex
Fucking
the pinnacle of human connection
to be so deep
so elevated
so completely consumed by a moment
an act of shared desire
a person

I look up from my keyboard.
No room.
No goddess.
around me the office shuffles along.
I put my fingers to my nose
I can still smell it.
Smell her.
Sex itself.

Original post blogged on b2evolution.

Red Rum

admin — Wed, 25 Nov 2015 17:18:00 +0000

taste,
tongue,
saliva shared.
push,
down,
to the bed.
tug,
tear,
skin so fair.
stroke,
touch,
hair so red.
fountain,
gush,
so fucking wet.
ram,
ride,
get in there.
soft,
hard,
incongruous pair.
in,
out,
out,
in,
I am your sin.
sheets,
moist,
sweat everywhere.
rough,
hard,
fucked apart.
gentle,
slow,
change of tempo.
come,
give,
thrill me please.
rub,
dip,
that beautiful clit.
lost,
found,
passion abound.
mad,
tense,
losing my head.
dream,
dazed,
fucking amazed.
lips,
locked,
bottom and top.
hit,
shot,
beat the fuck outta my heart.
end,
near,
a fate I fear.
climax.
ecstasy,
the death of me.
falling,
spiraling,
into the release of all things...

Original post blogged on b2evolution.