hung Out To Dry


I wrote this in Afrikaans because the language carries more taboo than open minded English ever will while at the same time maintaining a fearless sorrow.

Hahahaha
Nah I’m shitting you… just wrote in afrikaans because I never do.
By the way the piece has no application, it was just written about this girl who committed suicide by hanging herself on the school grounds after stripping naked and cutting herself.
Call this my back period

Die geluide wat daar uit gekom het was soos ou water pype.
So ‘n snak snak na lug….
‘n suis en dan ‘n fluit soos haar lee longe hul dors probeer less…
maar die gordel van haar skool broek het teen die yl blou grys vel in haar nek gesny en stywer en stywer die flees fandel van hulpeloosheid van die netbaal paal gehang.
Peodel nakend kaal gill die geteerde ligaam die woorde wat niemand wou hoor.

Son stralle koester sag sag te vergeefs.
Sys uitgehang en vergeet
En die son se hell pyle sal nooit haar siel kan smelt, want soos piccaso is sy geskilder met kwas hale van pappa se liefde, ligte steekies op klein gewriggies waar doctor nie haar hart kon heel, en vlees wonde waar die pyn moes uit.

En daar het sy gehang.
Toegedraai in die winter genaade van omvattende donker

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~ by nosjunkie on April 5, 2007.

10 Responses to “hung Out To Dry”

  1. Very cool! How fun to read your native? language 🙂 Is it your native language? Either way, cool!

  2. Hey girl…

    How you been? sigh i miss blogging so much. Have I missed the blog party-probably hey?

    mwah

  3. Kyk ne, so naby beskrywing van so situasie het ek lanklaas gelees… so asof jy self in daardie setup was.
    Dit is jammer om te weet hoeveel mense eintlik selfmoord oorweeg en hoe min mense eintlik gaan hulp soek….
    Dit is nie die moeitewerd nie, hoe dit voel om net voor daardie daad te staan, is ek seker baie mense sal hulle koppe knik… maar daar moet ‘n uitweg wees anders as om jou lewe te neem.

    Baie goed beskryf!!!

  4. This is where I wish I could read and speak Afrikaans properly… sigh, the dilemna of being French

  5. The Sounds that you can hear, sounds like the rumbling of old water pipes. Chocking for air.
    A sizzling sound and then a whistle as her lungs are trying to get some air.
    But the belt cutting through the skin in her neck is tightening second by second while hanging from the basketball poll.
    Totally naked the body is screaming the words nobody wants to hear.

    The sun is trying to softly protect.
    But it’s too late, already forgotten.
    The Suns beams will never be able to melt her soul, because like piccaso she was painted with a brush of dads love, light pricks on her small wrists where the doctor could not heal her heart, and physical wounds made to get the pain out.

    There she hung.
    Dark cold winter sheltering and covering her body.

  6. Wow, been away for a while, nice to see the link on my page works again, and to update myself with the posts on this blog….

    Yipppieeeee!!! Regards to grem and the res of the aliens!!!

  7. baie goed geskryf:)

  8. Now that’s an interesting way to exit stage left.

  9. I like this post…I like it a lot!

  10. Happy your back….hope to read post soon:)
    HUGZ

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