the shell

the surface, the outer shell
extended into the world
in self portrayal
we show that which will please
gain us credit, buy us influence
in a watching, calculating society
we nurture our true being
deep within, safe from the judgment
of the others of our kind
in childhood we soon feel
the slicing whip of humiliation
dispensed by those who gain pleasure
in the torment, the pain of others
the sweet faces of young innocence
hide the cruelties of which
only a child is capable
we ache with the shame, the mortification
soon, we withdraw, a little at a time
learning to hide the truth, building our mask
we absorb the lessons of protection
to weep inside and let the mask smile
when we feel fear, we master the snarl
and the world in ignorance, steps back
we find the strength to laugh
when we would hide in shame
we may hide our truth so well
in time, we might believe the mask is all
the gentleness of our humanity
lost through time
the softness of our hearts
lost forever, an absence not noted

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

All materials Copyright © 2004-2008 by Eryll Oellermann

at fault

molten metal arrows thrown from near
fear and twisted bodies fill the space
where peace should live in the still
now aerial displays of vengeance
kill and subdue in place of talk
no one is right and all are wrong
roll out the tanks filled with death
and other mother’s sons in uniform
strike first, make death your ally
carry high the bodies of the children
burned and broken by the years
of shame and unforgiving
your soul and mine laid bare
before the march of inhumanity

All materials Copyright © 2004-2008 by Eryll Oellermann

cogito, ergo sum

i find i now remember
the word i need to use
no more pregnant pauses
no offering up of clues

no need for you to wonder
what i am trying to say
each sentence is quite clear
in an elementary way


i think, i speak and i explain
i conjugate each clause
the words which once evaded me..
no longer give me pause


i thought it was the passing years
which caused my brain to slow
while actually a chemical (prescribed)
had caused the words to go

i write, i read, i watch the tube
i stay awake all day
"i think, therefore i am" you know
more eryll in some way!




--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

All materials Copyright © 2004-2008 by Eryll Oellermann

fake me

turn me fake me
mimic me and make me
i am the clay and you are the potter
i am the pencil and you are the jotter
untwist the wire of past evolution
humanity bleeds through unplanned revolution
the past is encoded, shrouded in mystery
the lies and the truth written down and called history
tomorrow the future untouched for the now
no vision projected protected somehow


so mix me and mold me
a new way enfold me
set up the dominoes give them a tap
let chaos embrace us a flag on the map

All materials Copyright © 2004-2008 by Eryll Oellermann

windstir

close my eyes search my mind
seen as if floating
on great clouds of red dust
they stretch their magnificent muscles
defining movement
great manes flying with their own wind stir
the ground vibrates
with the music of their hooves
the staccato rhythm of the herd
the tall hills applaud their return
the long grasses sway
a dance of joyful celebration
the horse whisperer kneels
in thanks
for to own is to be owned
a whisperer without a herd
ceases to exist

All materials Copyright © 2004-2008 by Eryll Oellermann

the caterpillar

photo by scotproof (flikr)























i watched a caterpillar today

he definitely knew where he was going

perhaps he was a she

do caterpillars even have he's and she's

i will play god and decide, he was a he

he moved with purpose, he had a mission

what brings such focus to the mind of a caterpillar

does a caterpillar even have a mind

or is it merely instinct in action

my caterpillar was black and very hairy

with a bright orange stripe down his back

no hanging back, he had places to be

things to do, what things

he ignored every bit of greenery in his way

a pile of roses, thrown away, faded, dead

my caterpillar did not even deign to pause

a container full of vegetable peelings

ready for the compost heap

slowed him down a little

only because it blocked his chosen path

he made his rapid way along a fence post

lying forgotten on the ground

he reached the end

and launched his caterpillar body into space

only the purchase of his back legs

kept him from falling

his caterpillar head waved up

and down and side to side

seeking ... i wonder what

whatever he was looking for , he found it

with multiple leg movements

he dismounted the fence post

and disappeared, leaving me wondering

i guess the ultimate destination of a caterpillar

is to become a butterfly

a beautiful, fairy winged creature

to float and hover and breed

All materials Copyright © 2004-2008 by Eryll Oellermann

the boys

the boys with voices gently slurred

are out again tonight

they stop and talk by street lamps

moths beckoned by the light


the smoke from cigarettes

curls upward in the light

the air is ice and as they breathe

the cold holds it in sight


tonight their tones are gentle

no louder than a sigh

they wander home in peace this night

with lager's lullaby


this time their minds are smoothly fogged

with alcoholic cheer

the village sleeps in peace tonight

although the boys are near

All materials Copyright © 2004-2008 by Eryll Oellermann

my skin was white

born and bred in Africa
a child who wished no shoes
i grew strong beneath her sun
i slept beneath her moon
i walked her earth
and breathed her air
i knew no other land
and i grew up and tall
and loved my land
and all her people
i was African
my skin was white

i felt the beat of nationhood
i knew the love of country
i carried the white man's burden
the guilt of more in a land of less
the guilt of separation
the division of our nation
the guilt of attitude
the white man's sin of arrogance
towards the others
his brothers in the land
i was African
my skin was white

freedom came
and it was good
no longer need to feel
the white man's burden
the guilt was lifted
from my shoulders
to see the young together
growing, they wish no shoes
they see no colour in your face
they share the land, at last together
i am African
what colour is my skin
All materials Copyright © 2004-2008 by Eryll Oellermann

let the glory words fall

like a jumble
in my brain
still in joy
and forged in pain

rising now
unending stream
in the light
and in the dream

tight my chest
and i must write
releasing words
into the night

born in hate
rise in sorrow
words to reach
my new tomorrow

to be free
thoughts must flow
in my mind
words must grow

glory words
in tumbling fall
my heart my soul my mind
my all

All materials Copyright © 2004-2008 by Eryll Oellermann

if they could speak

if you could speak if you could choose
to exist a while in sun and rain
be born and drink your mother's milk
to sleep and then awake again

to breathe, to move, to live a life
to walk the green and see the blue
to feel the bite of winter's wind
a life that led to death, would you

choose a birth of purpose
born only to grow and die
cared for by your killer
do you sometimes wonder why

or would you rather be
elsewhere, uncreated, free
never born the world to see
but uneaten, just like me

All materials Copyright © 2004-2008 by Eryll Oellermann

jeans

once upon a time you know
a really long long time ago
when i was young and tall and slim
and quick of mind and strong of limb
i bought a pair of jeans one day
that suited me in every way
in the newness colour bright
and the fit, it was just right
those jeans i bought were just so great
to wear them out i could not wait
i wore them here i wore them there
my jeans and i were quite a pair
my friends would say , girl you look good
in jeans like that i surely should
and so time past
things seldom last
and i grew up my jeans grew older
summer past the weather colder
those jeans whose fit was once so right
were now beginning to feel tight
the colour once so bright and true
now took upon a faded hue
and still i love those jeans of mine
when i wear them i feel fine
i keep them for my days at home
to wear when i am all alone
not so easy to throw out
jeans you were once mad about
All materials Copyright © 2004-2008 by Eryll Oellermann

the hunt

what calls us to the hunt
the eager baying of the hounds
following their instincts
does it feed our blood lust

the thundering rhythm
of man and horse in motion
ploughing through fields
of future intent
is this the fascination

the thought of the kill
does this inflame our passions
would we leave this place
with blood on our hands

for to hunt on horses
with dogs
is hardly an act of intrepidness
when the prey is
a fox
indeed, a killer in his own right
with a blood lust all his own

clever, wiley and fast
but no ravenous man killer
hardly a worthy opponent
for an educated man

and still we persist
for it is our custom
drawn from our savage history
the last justifiable kill

so play the many against the one
follow the pack until he tires
when the courage of his heart
can no longer deny
the exhaustion of his body
watch him taken, torn and rent
enjoy the kill
wash the blood from your hands

All materials Copyright © 2004-2008 by Eryll Oellermann

soledad

observation, need to share
while you are playing solitaire
what am i supposed to do
sit around and wait for you
while you might fear deep emotion
i am addicted to the potion
i will not hide what i am feeling
perhaps you find this unappealing
step by step is how you live
while if i feel then i must give
i have no choice this is my way
i crave a love who longs to play
without mind contact i am bereft
the child in me has never left
when i need space i look inside
there's room enough in which to hide
in you i sense some slight resistance
a need perhaps to keep your distance
if i withdraw you soon pursue
must i play this game with you
intensity is what you fear
while it is something i hold dear
when you desire to be alone
i feel my heart it turns to stone
i think perhaps you ask a lot
i can not be who i am not
my sins are arrogance and pride
i am like the sea the restless tide
great minds i find them everywhere
a great temptation now to share
my inner thoughts my inner being
with others who desire the seeing

All materials Copyright © 2004-2008 by Eryll Oellermann

i prefer cake

i dislike work

prefer leisure

to eat

brings me pleasure

my mind

is exquisite

i prefer

cake to biscuit

i am addicted

to smoking

i sometimes

wake choking

i visit the doctor

but never the shrink

i crave coke and coffee

and sometimes a drink

i used to like boys

and now i like girls

i love to watch rain

as it comes down in swirls

i love to look up

and i love to look down

i am happy in country

and happy in town

i long to touch others

and pass on the healing

to open my mind

to life's endless revealing

my thoughts are so restless

my mind never still

i am blessed with a body

which dislikes being ill

i have my own horses

who others can't see

perhaps they don't need to

because they're not me

All materials Copyright © 2004-2008 by Eryll Oellermann

the lost appetite

where has it gone
how can this be
i find it strange
it's just not me
i eat to live
and live to eat
i never stop
until replete
i wake and think
of what i'll eat
bacon eggs
potatoes meat
sweets and biscuits
crisps and snacks
i buy them all
in multi packs
and now it's gone
i just don't care
my need for food
is just not there
no hunger pangs
no desperate craving
just think of all the cash
i'm saving
All materials Copyright © 2004-2008 by Eryll Oellermann

wolf

a wolf must always
be a wolf
for if a wolf should try to change
in deference to polite society
he would not become a lamb
he would only be
a sad and lonely wolf
separated from his own identity
in a futile wish to please others
longing in the quiet hours
for the forest, the dark, the hunt
remembering others of his ilk
existed still
in the freedom of their self expression
for the way of the wolf
is a matter of pride
he controls his fear and shows his fangs
if the pack reject him
he will hunt alone
let the lamb be the lamb
to gentleness bred
do not ask the wolf to change
for a world without wolves
would be less
and society would have
a lamb in their midst
who in the dark of the night
would still howl for the moon
All materials Copyright © 2004-2008 by Eryll Oellermann

passion

passion
to live without passion
is to sleep
to exist in a world of dreamlike quality
for passion makes the music sweeter
the colours brighter
passion brings to our attention
the minute of life
the detail
for those who search
passion lights the fire
for quest
the rhythm of nature
must be appreciated with passion
to hear the beating of the rain
and wish to feel the wetness
is passion
to worship sun
and lift ones face in adoration
takes passion
language may address only
or incite
with the power of words
and passion
to live this life
this gift of glory
in dignified pursuit of the mundane
may be enough
for the many
but to open heart and mind
to the beyond
the greater
to live each day in pursuit
of just one moments
perfection
to allow oneself the release
the pain the beauty
of passion
is to reach for
the ultimate fulfillment
to be alive and to be aware
All materials Copyright © 2004-2008 by Eryll Oellermann