Biography of Mathew Lewis
18 years in Joburg.6 years in Cape Town. A mother in Christchurch, a father in Dar es Salaam...Still not sure where or what is home...Which is possibly the overriding theme in my poetry; the search for home. Be that literally or metaphorically, geographically or thematically. I find myself obsessed with the notion of existence and the apparent absurdity of the world in which we all exist. Is the notion of home simply an invention we create in order to survive or perhaps the need for a place called home is a mechanism we use to define who we are and what we are in the greater scheme of things? Are the things we do a reaction to the outside world or are they an answer to a more pressing problem buried deep within ourselves that keeps asking the question; 'Who am I? '; 'Can I exist in my immediate circumstances if I don't consider those circumstances to be where I belong? '; 'If I don't belong here, then where do I belong and does that place even exist...Is it even a physical location or is true belonging located in another realm all together? ' These are the thoughts that drive what I think and write about. If you like what I have to offer email me at firstname.lastname@example.org or comment on what you think about my poetry.
Mathew Lewis Poems
Suffer the pen That has to write what I say, Suffer the words That have to serve my brain,
A Sonnet Of Insanity (Sonnet #1)
A moment of insanity, Stupidity and savagery, A move against humanity And all that is reality.
Angel eyes are colourblind, On a whim she lost my mind, Something's there I'll never find, Angel eyes are colourblind.
Alone In My Forest One Day
I was walking alone in my forest one day, Sleeping awake I went on my way, And as I lookeed up the sun caught my face, And my tears fell down in ribbons of lace.
The crimson sun fails to rise On the eastern shore of my demise, Waters ebb through space and time, And everybody sees through crystal eyes,
Fighting Mere Existence
A primrose sun hides the greedy streets, An ugly path trod by many feet, Where bootless prayers seek the days gone by, Too young to live, too old to die.
A Tragedy In Four Parts
Polly had a heart, She really did, But listening to those kids Made her hate herself,
Watching Someone You Love, Love Someone ...
They say watching someone you love Love someone else Is the hardest thing you can do. But did they know that it
Because I am constantly trying to break free, It is ultimatley impossible for me to do so. Because I can only see out of my own two eyes, I will never understand a fate that is not mine.
2a.M And Nowhere To Go
An amber room woken with failing light, A box of wine interrupts the busy floor, An ashtray innocently deals death at its fingertips. And one single door stands guard over all.
A Cape Town Winter
Neon lights and ebon string, Rock and roll makes the devil sing, Somewhere close an angel cries, A faulty heart, a feighned good bye.
(being Of Frail Thought)
Snatch me up in a bundle of air, Don’t hold too tight, You can get lost up there. Fame you for thinking,
What a bitter to-fro catastrophe Spoken cleanly on the tongue And yet lost all the same When the silence draws in.
An amazing order of controlled totalitarianism, A mystery of dictated authority, Multi-faceted and yet a waste of time, Differently formal, painfully the same,
Stand Up For Death
Entwined in lover's deathly snare,
Broken by friendship's fickle stare,
Drained by kindred's ugly tears,
Starved by my own hungry fears,
So why then should I hate death?
For he can only take my breath,
My soul is there to be recieved,
Free to cry and free to bleed,
Free from earthly pain and hurt,