Some stories need pictures – moving or otherwise… others don’t.

You’ll decide when you craft your own – as and when you do.

Whether that is out loud for anyone to see and or hear… or just between you and your thoughts while you’re in the shower or the traffic, or when you have one of those pretend-arguments in your head where you get to say all the things you would have said – when you weren’t so on the spot

Because you feel them, then, and they make such perfect sense to you in that space!

There are always going to be minutes, months and moments… that do, and that don’t matter.

So… with that in mind, does it then make more– or less sense to you when you hear the words:

“Time goes by… so slowly…”

Because there are always going to be minutes, months and moments… that do or don’t, and that did or didn’t matter. Still, dance among them we will! When they are sacred to us – sounded-out through pain or pride… prominent and bold or in the bereaving between us… because you feel them, then … and they make such perfect sense to you in that space.


when you think back
over that
and months
more brat
than pleasant
like crescent
before the dip
of a trip
you never took the pill for 

that floor
that swallowed
the door
that hallowed 

your name
into a game
you couldn’t step
or opt out of 

never pass begin
a year
you laughed about
until it swallowed you in 

but how can you make
too much of a noise
about what you thought
a little lacking in poise… 



See it


Sound it


Super Big Loves go to Trudi, Pam, Natasha, Larissa and Catherine who have (perhaps?) unbeknownst to them – as / when been privy (pained) by the process that goes into this painting that I do – held my hand all my whiles. 

Thank You ladies! You are Light! That kind that I’ve loved herein and before… and I know – for many moments to come! Still. 

And despite whatever hurdles or hinderings you may have had over the past months, I wish for all of You and Yours, a beautiful, blessed festive season! 

© Dylan Balkind





Some stories need pictures – moving or otherwise… others don’t. Hello World. I am here



My God is We

I once wrote a piece called I know a rape victim, because I watched her eyes as she told me she was that – and then, there, I knew she would always journey that story’s hell – in different ebbs and flows – then… and since…

I once made a mashup that started with what I imagined ‘it’ would say – if HIV had a voice. Because I know too many people who hear that – whether in the healing or hell they live with, in that always-journey with its different ebbs and flows – then… and since…

I don’t condone victim blaming, shaming, racism, sexism, destructive hedonism, blasé-ism… or bullying. Which, if we – or I here – am honest, is all of these, before and after it becomes any of the titles that history and our stories label it with.

The girth and its greatness is the division where dialogue is denied.


Have I been a bully?


To affect harm or to diminish?


Because I know the feeling both become, before and long after the fermentation of purgatory’s station; and at the very understood-thought – I’d wince… because… I know the hell I’ve lived there – and since.


It’s not okay to just say I was misunderstood, there, on the ground I dug my feet into – like thug – just because I wanted the other to see the human in me talking my truth to he, she or they…

To be heard, from the words I would…

But… still!

Anti stupidity?


Self-deemed, deserving deity?


And I will laud the lonely gaps I see when we give in to what we’re given, versus what we in our heart of hearts believe in…

You know which fights are worth fighting. Why would you airtime the ones that can’t when they fake attempts at igniting – anything…?!

Like all issues, Feminism – for example – is due dualism, worth its dialogue! And that is a deity deserving all its own. Pick which lane you want to accelerate in… and then go safely, for speed without care saves none and just makes more morons in our collective, ever-eagerness to unthinkingly become dumb.

© Dylan Balkind


#HansRosling #HilarySwank #ChelseaHandler #RumerWillis #Kardashian #Equality #HumanEconomy #Rape #HIV #News #SpirtDay #Bullying




Like God (would)

I recently went through one of those very-ugly-for-reasons-long-reduced things, that pressure-cooked contempt and its equal release were to such points that “ugly” wouldn’t’ begin to describe them – from any perspective. But ugly isn’t really surprising when the suppressions become the sickness – right? Right. So better now. Or will be. Point is, in that there, then, there was a person I needed– and knew I could call. And so that night, when I got into bed, I opened my notepad and wrote this for her:


© Dylan Balkind

We Are Infinite


life is like music
in bars
and bars of eight

where we celebrate
the miss-guessing
and hot-stepping

through the open ones

or hairbrush-singing
outside the un-fun

when we commiserate spate
for them come upon locked gates


we do



friends are like music
in bars
and bars from eight

without veneer
means no need for linear
which life never is
when in it
not cryptic
or supposed to fulfill 
any sort of hat-trick

after time gone and sunsets done

crimes and their fines
healed from alone’s seen-signs
over dry-grass lawns
or ceilings stared into until dawn
while the world is asleep
and you feel furious at the creeps
or just lie there and weep

with you

just you



and true

then, there,
just as you would be
things just as they should be

with some in

many not
in every episode
so that
cameos aren’t catapulted or camouflaged
as anything less or untoward

but just there
the things that should be traveled as I rather than We
reminding you that
things are

just as they should be

that is soul business

and there’s no other quite like it
your fit
proven alive by that nudge
through fog
under moon 
echoed by swoon
of Howling Dogs

it is there 

the Universe will kiss


like Kettle Mist 

✯ ✯ ✯

We did amazing things!

Yes. You – and I – reading and writing this.


And here’s why:
Because You may not know just how much, but you wrote these with me.

And we wrote these stories Differently.
Realities that were sometimes soft, often not and thumped out as bigger sounds in booms – and bytes.

So thank you… thank You… THANK YOU!

Your Light is Tall – and I salute it from here in mine, with this:   

Happy Spring Day Supernovas!

#WritingStoriesDifferently  #RealitySoundBytes

Video Sources

Howling Dogs   Kettle Mist


Musical Sources

MindsLikeMidnight  ►  HereILeaveMyStory  ► SevenBillionStars  ► SqueakATakkie  ► PiecesOfGod  ► TheFifteenthSunrise  ► Remember  ► HotSteppinMachinawCity  ►   ► BeatsLikeBukowski  ► MidnightSwan  ► ADYKTION (Side A)  ► ShowTunedLife  ► TrumpThis  ► McDonaldsOnDorsett  ► TheLightOfTheSun  ► Pantone-18-05-1974-NMNM  ► ButterflyBalloons  ► InstinctsRemain  ► LiveYourLiberty (Remixed & Revisited)  ► MightyBlighty  ► NYE-DO RE MI FA D K B




Saturday pm #Stumped

Space isn’t a derivative you can look up in the book of relationships. That is because any book – other than your own diary – that calls itself a ‘book of relationships’ is a phoney from cover to cover.  So there isn’t any guideline or guilt-trip for those who need, want, take or impose it.

Space that is. Between them and any / any other / others.

I guess the test then is the translation of that into whether you
a) re-meet, chat and the other of everythings that go with that, or
b) don’t

And because there is – and I’m paraphrasing here – no guideline, or guilt-trip for those who need, want, take or impose it, there can be no right or wrong from a or b, so no pass or fail and therein I suppose, no test possible, after all.

But – and again – I paraphrase: Don’t panic … aint nothing going on but History … it’s been coming for some time.

All that said, it’s been beyond nice to hear your voice again, Kim!


Immaculate Projection



So… there has been so much outpouring of love and Light in the shared news of what headline’d Finn’s. And with it, we THANK YOU!

We also promised you some inside info – the “secret” we called it… But, and here’s the thing… it’s not a secret. Because it is YOU all – and that Light you give! In the comments and messages and inbox’d words… Still… if this sounds confusing, then here… try this:

✯ ✮ ✯

I know you know what I mean when I suggest that you have a friend that you like a lot, because you have invested the time that validates your allegiance… but will still have mutual friends who write them off, or have assumed big things based on small amounts of (the consumed) information… and so, when you can, you try to use the forum to sell the Saint parts of what many others see as just-saline?!

After I shared 5iftySe7en, my friend Nundi said that she learned so much/more about Madonna via listening to my share… and therein such prize for my presentation! 

Still, these (my) relentless ravings can and will be interpreted as juvenile, often. But not unlike a station you can bitch about for its programming – or ultimately choose to switch from – my loves here are plastered in the same way. No one has to watch or hear what they choose not to. 

After the Paris attacks in 2015, a friend of mine I’d known for a decade un-friended me because I’d said on Facebook that I found it annoying that people would change their profile pic and/or share the (then, that day, very generic) #PrayForParis one… And I said so because I am very sure that these kinds of considerations to such topics are fleeting. And so very, very vapid.

I was not nor have I ever mitigated the seriousness and intensity of this global issue and its traumas! My point was (and is), that if you are going to make a statement – DO and BE a statement!

I don’t think that because you clicked your mouse a few times and changed your picture, for those in your friends-list to see, is anything really in to turn the tide for the way the world responds to– and deals with acts of terrorism. Sure, it shows you are aware of current issue and a sensitivity for those closer to flames than you may be… but, most who do that – believing it makes a actual difference – will in the hours that follow, go back to allocating their cerebral capacities to the next Kardastrophe –  or similar…  

Anyway, since re-acquainting, I proffered VNFVKVRSLF\5OOTWORK as in retrospect of my own sentimentality and intimacy to the issues, but one I’d compiled in context, . soon after the second bouts of attacks on Paris at the Bataclan Theatre… from as small or not my vantage point is.

My angle here isn’t that I deserve a medal for creating the collection of content included therein, but that these do take hundreds of (love-filled) hours, and ideally click with enough people to start or feed conversations around the mix of messages offered…?! That may be a dinner table of two, or four or more… But, sure… Is it any better than changing your profile picture or sharing one? Maybe not… Perhaps I am simply biased – for and within my own context? 

So, whether it’s Alanis, cheese, poetry, heart-strings heart-sleeving stuff or my girl here, this is my way of taping the torque of my truths onto others’ art. Theirs. These. Herein.

✮ ✯ ✮

It’s almost this deities birthday. And during the planning of this mashup, I also came into some unhappy news on the birthday of anothers… Madonna has in the past, offered some pretty powerful messages in the context of her having a child, the way her understanding of Love changed therein, and how that made her experience life in different, clearer ways… Ergo, a good fit, for me, here and now.

You don’t have to spend 46 minutes on the chance you may learn something different, be surprised, amused, mused or bemused, but if you do like music, a great story and have the time – give it a whirl.

And if you’re already a fan, I doubt you even read this far before pressing ►   



I am a Citizen of the Planet

It may not be now what it was to me then… the glean, sheen of America’s Marketing Machine. But I know that that’s (also) because the world has shown – and shows – the untolds that, as a kid you never knew you didn’t want to know about, until you already do…

I grew up ensconced in TV’s heyday, whence the States set the bar for how glistening that was begot to everyone who did: almost all the (Western) world – watching on screens both big and small.

‘Small’ then didn’t define the device, but rather what was a literal translation of affordability – a snowy, black-and-white output versus full colour… the full-stop that ended the statement of your bank-balance.

“Fascination” would be the laziest of understatements to describe my slack-jawed green-eyed-gawking at Green Card central! The planet’s HQ – as far as I was concerned. Held highest… and for the longest…

I wanted to see the twinkling lights of Los Angeles at night; to witness whether steam really did seep upward from Big Apple’s streets, and whether the Keyes unlocked the summer inside, when from in-car and across Florida’s beaches, you basked across and under its sun…

I can tick off the latter two, and can confirm that those filmic representations are not strange to their there-and-thens…but just the norm that I (we?) put on fascination’s pedestal.

Sad, that the world’s sheen is lost when we graduate from tween and teen.
And oh if only to see and do then, when the mind is open to ~ which is all of it!

But I’m not here to Debbie-downer with longing for the glitter and magic from old calendar days’ ticked.

I’m here to ask you to dance…
…or simply sway…
It’s Independence Day!

Something America makes a big noise about… and so they should.

And so should we all!

Independence should be a global holiday.

As and when – for everyone, in theirs there, as and when.

Every You,
and Every Me.
None forgotten
nor thunk too small…

…with Liberty and Justice for a global-all!


✯ ✯ ✯

The initial track:


© Dylan Balkind


In a world made of steel

Pride has just been commemorated in passion’d places across the planet. Most loud, no doubt. Some less so, I’m sure.

Still… what is that?


Being proud?

And why should it be so pronounced?

This is rhetoric.

I’m not anti, except for that I don’t think that the being-pronounced can ever really be deduced to one X on the calendar. And so I often wonder why these commemorations still are? So as to wait 364 days to dance that pride again?

Well that’s just pressure-cookings waiting to combust!

And then?! Would these be spontaneous? Or when the X says okay, go! 

This is rhetorical.

 slight segue 

My Finn just celebrated his fourth birthday… and whether madman or coping mechanism, my talking as / through him is therapy, regardless.


Ergo, he now knows each of us to be “centimetre-beings” … And so be it!

In a world made of steel… made of stone… and from this sentient being to you – be your centimetres Black, Indian, ISIS and / or Gay – I hope you make the Pride of your passions an everyday goal.

Some of the Loves we live for are harder than others to explain…


If they are yours and you feel that or them… or those, there…

…then, by G-d…! Best you raise the fckn’ curtain! 

Because to those who do, even the hardest of us aren’t hard to love.

And that’s something to be proud of!






Butterfly Balloons

I have a bit of a statement to make.

First… let me say this:
I can count on three fingers, the times I’ve been so angry as to
a) actually see white… and
b) be muted in melancholy by same

I did.

I was.

Yesterday, when this video of a bully and his (elected) bait at the Krugerlaan School slipped into my news feed on Facebook.

Having been uploaded almost a year ago, I can’t say why it is doing the rounds again now… but I also know social media and how viral works… so yeah. And good it did, because despite the vitriol I journey as the viewer, the victim’s volume – albeit stupidly filmed by the team-wankers who schemed such stupidity – is his vanquish.

“It may not be painless, quick, or easy, but you can insist on a different ending to your story.” – Monica Lewinsky

If anyone is fit to advise on how online conversations keep a story going on… and on… and on… it’s Monica Lewinsky.

Ergo, it may have been uploaded almost a year ago. Viral is never overnight but rather the attention something gets when its timing is true to the testament an audience can and will connect with.

I hope the noise this channel affords him helps with the jarring version he’s had to hear for too long.

And any period of months, minutes or a moment – is too long!

So, once the furious frustration of that third knot frayed-free, I punched this together:

I hope your days are full of fervent, benevolent Light.
To the gentle, I say go gently.
To the not, I say go fuck yourselves.


© Dylan Balkind



The video still needs some tweaking… but time is marching on and seeing as it was supposed to be shared for her birthday…

do you ever wonder
what another ponders
between own
and those that look back from inside the mirror
silence a lifetime’s worth of ticking
over short-comings and glory

is the tremor all terrific or more terror
is whatever that is more temporary or what feels like forever?
is it more worry than wonderful?
more doubt that definition?
more questioning than quotas?
more about our failings than about what floats us?

does the pretending that hides pain
bring tears that make eyes rain
and do dilated pupils
see no sun on the windowsills?
fields without daffodils?
always wanting another headache pill?

or maybe not as much distance…
between who you see and what you’ve got?
not so marooned
under midnight moons
and knowing that to empower the distance
is about embracing your duality
for creating from confluence

we are never fully that skin that we move in
that we wear to work or the pub or when in-laws come ‘round to celebrate with grub

just gloves
for the loves
the variations we lead onlookers to believing
the many or minimal layers
that we thin or thick with
depending on who we’re thin-or-thick-as-thieve’ing with

so… what simpler explanation is there for duality
than what we put on the bench
biding bravado rather than benevolence…
to– and for our own selves?

You there!
yes You, in your small section of the world
sometimes loud
or not remembering when last you genuinely felt proud…

you have a sound
that astounds
to audiences as planned
and those that begin as unaware

you’ll feel
present and gone
fury and fun
all of it is the Light of the Sun
even when it feels like the jump
before the gunshot has gone off…

sometimes the shepherd
others the sheep
always just fine
if we remember only
that we are omni
and that duality is no sin
it’s just vibration




sometimes sheep
others the shepherd
both are you
both are fine
because whether sheep or shepherd
you are always your shine


© Dylan Balkind


imagine the stories 
around that campfire where they now sit 
and the globe we float on
is but an ember in it…

no grief in their whiles 
bass and vibrato, through all-smiles
a moonwalk’s own story
(seen only as glory)
…through beautifully, benevolent,
and happ-full slit-eyes…  

now from ashes
each into a Phoenix become
and with limitless soul-torque 
I’m pretty sure not much ‘rest-in’ will be done…

so why should R.I.P.
stand for ‘Rest In Peace’ – if anything?
surely no rest will be needed
whatever you believe, or believe in…

for wherever it is you believe, or know you will go 
no grief nor trouble should be before you – nor in tow
so through beautifully, benevolent, happy-full slit-eyes
I hope your company there– wherever… is all and only about smiles! 

Rollin’ In Paradise.
A STARBURST for sure


PS: The reason My Way is the Ed Sheeran version is very definitely deserving of its own post altogether… One that will without doubt be called I remember February.

© Dylan Balkind


Burning in the fireplace

So, you think you’re not into show tunes? Let me see if I can convince you otherwise…

You may be cooler than ice cold, slide-uphill slick, so much so that Chorus Line to you is what it means to be in the queue at Absa Bank… You may think that Music is a Sound that should be sans all and anything miserable – just for the Ra! Ra! and the shits and giggles.

But then you’ll go and add a soundtrack to your shitty… Gabrielle, Boys II Men, Mariah or Adele, age depending.

Because we do.

And – when we are really lucky – life adds a soundtrack to our giggles.

That’s a show in itself. Which makes us – and how we do that – the show of our tunes.


An artist becomes a giant at his game when he breaks your heart through the beauty of his brushstrokes. Your own giant-becoming is in the ways that you stretch with your heart thereafter.

And that’s a show in itself, which makes each of us and how we do that, the show of our tunes.



Or talked about.

We are the endless journeying jaunts on either side of a scale that has Giant on one side and Ghost on the other.

Both will ever be our burning in the fireplace, either as firework or blazed by the flames of our forfeits.

So tombed, token, or talked about – we are the show of our tunes.

It must be learned then, that the links between us are ensured their longevity when formed from foundations understated. Where untold and unseen are bigger than any and all bullshit. But where untold and unseen are that assimilated understanding to not be ever, the same as unsaid or unheard.

I have a friend.

Her mom died.

Only 11 days ago.

I am a friend.

My Dad died.

Only 77 days ago.

Now… ‘experience’ isn’t really experience when the Universe is a Size Small compared to the gloved-muffle of that melancholy. So even though just a Route-66 days between ours, the way my friend arranged the letters of her update when she did, punched my stomach something proper!

I haven’t seen this friend’s face since April in 2013. Like, actually seen her.

But you don’t have to look at the sun to know that it is there and that you are warmed by its Light.

And because what – or however God is – that Giant turned mine to Ghost on the morning she did, muffling my planet with the boarding call for him to go back. And the moment that I pushed that pain into my public, I felt every nudge of every person who sent theirs.

On my skin and in my soul.

Still… the comfortable-coward wanted my punched-stomach to take focus, selling myself a story that would convince (only) me that, well, you know, I’m sure it’ll be okay… I mean… it has been three years… and I am very sure she has people coming from everywhere to keep and wrap her to them under arms wide and warm…

But. No.

And only because the Universe is a Size Small compared to how hot the flames in that fireplace burn.

At any level, and in whatever role you play, silence is simply nothing.

It’s not placed as sacred by the beautiful of its own broken.

It’s just bullshit.

It’s the smug ghost of nothing, from a place of nowhere.

And insofar as tunes of the show go, silence doesn’t make for a rad soundtrack – in any genre.

But, hey! This here is just my soundtrack, of the show tunes I tap-dance to. You may not agree… but like it or not, by the pulse of your personhood, you actually are into show tunes. Perhaps on a very different frequency to mine, or not…

That’s Hz, and right now, Kerry and I share the same.

She Drama-schooled as I did, but elsewhere (over another rainbow?). And then life schooled us together, inside a Limelight of Giants, Ghosts, and all the terrifying, terrific tap-dancing we did between them.

As Giants. And as Ghosts – as and when we journeyed our respective jaunts of each.

Naturally, this post had me thinking about the one I shared when my Dad died, and specifically my signing off with:

“You are The Light of the Sun.
Don’t shine it where souls don’t salute yours back.”

Well, I am quite the smarty pant then, aren’t I?! 😛

And this Ghost is getting his colour back.

Still think you’re not into show tunes?

Doubt it.

Prior to this, was Act 1… for more show-tune-context, should your toes be tapping and want for more 😉
© Dylan Balkind

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