BOISHAAIER 2016

THE BLEEDING BOY By Michael van der Berg (Grade 12D) He often cut at his wrists with sharp ideas and used creativity to press the wounds. He used logic to keep infections clear, Watching the words ooze. At times his skin was diamond, refusing to even scratch. At times his skin so raw, a constant bleeding patch. Sometimes the words don’t drip: when his eyes won’t dry and his heart ripped. But he always learns to bleed again, even from his lips. There are days where others make the sores and yes, it does sting a little more. But...the sting adds flavour to the dripping words and those who stung, now fear the drippings heard. Dripping commonly formed beats on which the words fell. Bleeding words, Oh bleeding heart! Covered in a slippery hell.

PAPER THIN by Michael van der Berg (Grade 12D) A paper plane was thrown by Her. He was born. He encountered a rock, He threw a paper plane. He encountered a wall, He threw a paper plane. He encountered Her, He threw a paper plane. He encountered his paper planes, He continued throwing paper planes... paper plane paper plane paper plane... And like a paper plane, He fell. He encountered a pebble, He threw a paper plane.

years, hearing all the stories, the people who came and left as well as those who stayed made me think. Most importantly thinking back to what life was like back then- the plans, goals and achievements which I made. As I left the school I ultimately found myself envious of those boys in the primary school, but most of all angry with myself. Angry because I realised I had not achieved the things I set out for myself. Why? Why didn’t I make that team? Why did I not achieve eighty percent? Why did I not ask that girl out? ... Well, simply, life happened. Things happened every day that I did not expect to happen, especially given society today. The reality is that life is not as easy as we think. For every action there is a reaction and sometimes we find ourselves reacting incorrectly. The impact of other people’s actions have an effect on the way we live our lives. I planned to go on holiday but realised I need to study; I planned to go to university but my marks were not good enough.

Kreatiewe Skryfstukke KREATIEWE SKRYFSTUKKE Continue to lose Continue to ooze and never let the bleeding lessen. Continue to need Continue to bleed words that touch the Heavens. DIFFERENTLY SIMILAR By Michael van der Berg (Grade 12D) The Men! DIE SOUTIE SEUN Imraan Khan (Grade 11D) My mates and I, them before me, The proper Way, I see. Ek en my pelle, die enigste manier. Waar is ek? I end waar ek is. Uitgesluit deur taal gebruik. I am not a Soutie Die taal maak nie vir my nie Ek is ’n digter. Ek is ’n mens, I am alive, no Afrikaans can say otherwise. Voor jy dink: ag hy’s maar net Engels, Think twice, he may be nice. Afrikaans is die taal in my huis. Ek doen beter in die ander een, puntsgewys. So let me be frank. Afrikaans does not determine my rank. Dit is ek, and I am me. Die taal wat ek gebruik doesn’t stop me being great. NOBODY KNOWS WHAT THE FUTURE HOLDS (Tian Bain Grade 12D) I feel that many people have plans. Plans for what will happen when they are no longer here, but very few have enough plans for the here and now. It is important to focus on the present, make plans for now as nobody knows what the future holds. WHO ARE YOU TOLD YOU SHOULD BE? [Oliver Adams Grade 12D] Who are you to tell me how to dress, how to act or who I should be? Who are you, them or they? You, in the eyes of millions, in full view of everyone to glance over your existence, but you are still there. You define us all, put us in a cage. Yes, you change from circle to circle. Your demands and rules change too… but I can see you. As you hide in all of us,

Large Men! Strong Men! Roaring Men! Muscular Men! “Real” Men? Who waddle like penguins Wearing shorts twenty sizes too small! With HUGE balloon muscles Puffed and stuffed with Ego. Who lift insecure dumbbells. “Oh! What a beautiful buff body!” You chocolate covered marshmallows... But, I am the same like them: I waddle Using words too small, I stuff and puff my mind with questions, And I “lift” myself from the floor of insecurity. “Oh! What a prestigious promising poet!” I, the chocolate covered marshmallow... The Boy.

I as an individual cannot harm you … for we created you. We are you. You confine us with your rules, keep us prisoner with the fear of exile. You are the system made up by all of us and rebellion would mean certain exile, loneliness our punishment. A rebellion against such an enemy would be labelled as weird, odd or even creepy. He is a boy, a small innocent boy, yet you force him to bend and conform. ‘He should not have long hair’ or ‘like the colour pink’ because he is a boy and you would have him do no such thing. She is a girl, a young, kind-hearted and most pure girl, yet you force her to play with toy dolls and not cars. You force her to wear a dress rather than a pair of jeans. These young soft minds, waiting to be moulded to your choice; and our old, hardened minds stand firm in your statute. Why can he not wear the hoodie? What is wrong with long hair? What we wear or how we act should not define us. Why do you force us to act in a certain

As a matric learner, turning eighteen years old is a milestone for many. Officially being confirmed as an adult. We are told things like ‘You’re still young’ and ‘You will figure it out’ are all statements which have some validity to them. Many matrics however, find themselves not achieving the various, different goals set for themselves or fulfilling the plans they set out to complete. Our matric class was recently given the opportunity to attend a function for those who attended the local primary school. At first I did not think much of it but tagged along for the sake of my friends. After five years at high school and nothing but a series of exams standing in my way to freedom, I didn’t think there was much that a brief function, hosted by my previous school, could teach me. Walking those school halls for the first time in five

Small Boy. Weak Boy. Silent Boy. Thin Boy. “Fake” Boy...

68 | HOËR JONGENSKOOL PAARL 2016