- Finally, a blogpost! - Here I am after 5 months of not blogging. I stopped blogging after one of my closest friends and compadres committed suicide. It was a major shock to the system for me. And I suppose I could go on and on about it- how I went through two breakdowns partly because of the event. But. … Continue reading Finally, a blogpost!
- Goodbye Homie; Goodbye Ulla - *lights a candle* This is going to be a bit all over the place but I’m going to try to say goodbye. She knows I was the type of person to be all over the place so I guess it’s okay. My Homes, I understand why you did it. I really do. Your brothers and … Continue reading Goodbye Homie; Goodbye Ulla
- Artwork for Ulla - For those of you interested, I’ll be painting a series of paintings as a tribute to Ulla (Blahpolar). I want to sell them and all profits made will be donated to the clinics she went to in the Eastern Cape, South Africa. It will be an ongoing project. Spanglish Familia will be helping with the … Continue reading Artwork for Ulla
- An Invitation: JOIN ME on SEPT 10th to Honour ULLA’s Death — Our Lived Experience - I’m struggling to write this, so please bear with me. Two days ago I found out that one of my closest friends and the co-founder of OLE took her own life. Ulla, or Blahpolar as she was known to most, was one of the best things that ever happened to me. I don’t want to … Continue reading An Invitation: JOIN ME on SEPT 10th to Honour ULLA’s Death — Our Lived Experience
- Anxiety killed the cat - My anxiety killed me, dead. I really struggle with the anxiety part of my bipolar disorder and we’re beginning to think that it’s an issue all on its own. My last post spoke about my obsessional thinking patterns. I brought this to my psychiatrist’s attention on Wednesday. (There was a cancellation so I could get … Continue reading Anxiety killed the cat
- I’m trying out Bloglovin’ - <a href=”http://www.bloglovin.com/blog/16629667/?claim=46rxcf4qgxc”>Follow my blog with Bloglovin</a>
- Obsession - One of the things I haven’t read much about when it comes to bipolar disorder is being obsessive or having obsessing thoughts. I obsess over little things like if the windows are closed at night to big things like what are people thinking about me. I know it seems stupid and possibly childish but paranoia, … Continue reading Obsession
- Fisherman - Selling price R250
- Blue flame - Slowly moving. Sensually gliding. I’m engrossed. So just dance! Your blue is- So intriguing So misleading. Your heat I can’t touch. I can’t have. I can’t hurt. Oh to embrace you! Oh to feel your freedom. Just to be!
- Self love and motherhood musings - Since my last little episode, I’ve recovered quite nicely. Relatively speaking of course. I’ve taken a few showers. Yesterday I even made myself breakfast. Boom. Caring for myself is so much effort when I’m depressed. Sometimes loving myself is one of the most difficult things to manage to do. I think it’s rooted … Continue reading Self love and motherhood musings
Below are my older poems.
Singer for a day by Yvette Adams
Boy I wish I could be
That girl who sings a song so merry
And make u see
How much u mean to me.
And in that song I’d sing
A tune that was as sweet as a fling
And have that something
Cementing the fact that you are my everything.
But alas, I can’t sing
Not even a note on time,
Mere words that could convey
The joy you bring to my heart
Maybe it’s best that this song remains unsung
And that your love stays on the tip of my tongue.
Maybe it’s best.
I’ll let your love guide the orchestra-
After all, you do love me much better than the rest.
My Hartjie by Yvette Adams
As die hartjie eers oorstoom met liefde en die magic van kleine, sagte soentjies voel…
Sing die siel n mooie lied.
‘n lied van blydskap in geselskap met jou.
As die Here net vir my laat weet het-
dat jy op my pad bestaan het.
Sou ek harder gebid het om jou vroeer te ontmoet.
Om vir jou te se,
My auctioneer by Yvette Adams
Consumed by thoughts of you and dreams of you and ideas of you.
Don’t you dare lose me. Don’t you dare throw me away.
For I am more valuable than gold…
I make my price- because I know I am more valuable than the price any man is willing to pay.
Maybe that’s why I sit here- waiting for my only bidder.
Growing in value.
Waiting for the words, “Sold to Love”.
To my sweet responsibility by Yvette Adams
Dedicated to Cayden Lyle Adams
You took my youth from me-
And it shames me to say.
You took my fast nights and those super cool drinks away.
You took my care free days and oh so sexy ways and it’s-
But, You took my life as I knew It to be.
And brought me the essence of what it ought to be.
Oh, what a responsibility.
To live this life of guilt
Is not fair.
I question my God’s reasoning under this hair.
For you to not see me around
Is really not fair.
But my baby boy-
My love for you lives in the pages of that heavy book.
My love for you is evident in that it will leave my perseverance unshook.
You gave me this drive-
To do more than just survive.
Without you, my sweet responsibility-
I am not alive.
When I used to love, Love by Yvette Adams
When I used to love, Love-
You were the epitome
Of all good and prosperity.
You and Your smile-
Charmed my eager heart
But only for that short while.
You and Your deceiving eyes-
Brought this here journey
To its foul demise.
With bitter kisses-
With fake smiles-
My yearning for you faded.
You, Love, left me with sweet lies.
You, Love, left me to love with open eyes.
my Africanisms by Yvette Adams
Who are you to judge and define my Africanness?
My skin ranges in colour- light as day and dark as the night.
The texture of my hair has its own agenda- from bone straight to a curl that is so tight.
My heritage, so rich and full of colour.
Yet, so much shame to call you Africa, ‘my mother’.
For you see, mother, my brothers and sisters of this land do not see me as sibling.
Rather, I am to them a stranger, a nobody who cannot offer a thing.
If only, they could see that my soul bleeds to compensate for lack of my blackness and being judged on my whiteness.
Do not forget me in your struggle, because my brother- it is our struggle.
My identity calls for a revolution- but respect my history, my pain, my struggle to be seen, by you brother-as a proud African.
The ease of smiling by Yvette Adams
The ease of smiling
has made my healing
I thought it could
Heal my heart as it should
And not taint my spirit as it would.
My smile begged me to appear
Happier and dry that forsaken tear.
Smiling can be so damn deceiving
Never quite revealing
The raw state of my bleeding.
My Life as is by Yvette Adams
My cries fall on deaf ears,
As I struggle to rise, rise above
Your faith in me,
Chokes me as I struggle to breathe
Like the rest.
Drowning, drowning in the depth of failure-
As I put this ambitious spirit
I no longer have that zest-
To fly amongst the best.
Alas, I ask you to love me,
Just not like the rest.
Friendship by Yvette Adams
If only you would give a damn,
Would I care enough to pretend
That you were indeed a friend.
If only you would smile a bit,
To cover up that hissy fit
We both know I lit.
If only you would remove that lace
And wipe that smug look off your face
So I could defend my case.
Maybe you live to be
Or that fake celebrity
Without a blackberry.
Why bother with ‘if only’
When you, dear friend
Leave me bitter and lonely.
Newest tear drop by Yvette Adams
My tears wet the dry, dry ground u kicked me on.
The screams still ring, ring in my head as u keep, keep pushing
Is where I’m at.
You torture me with the sick, sick lies you tell to my face.
The vomit curdles as you stare, stare into my eyes and
Is what you put me through.
You leave me tortured.