why do tears fall from broken eyes
in blinding times of the lies of the wise
when spurious tongues dribble and drool
deeply enmeshed in the cesspool
of me myself and i …
when hunger is leased
venom slips through unleashed
me myself and i
as the scavenging resumes
its shutup
and its buy-bye…
may your sleep be gentle,
as dawn hushes night,
may your morning be paintbrushed,
in hues of warm light,
may your day be bathed in earthy colours, embracing you tight,
may your tomorrows nourish your dreams,
lifting your spirit in delicious flight.
a wish for you, my dear friend …
yesteryears whispers,
murmured promises,
ashen hopes,
scattered amidst the detritus,
of a life wasted away,
stumbling out of one and into another hazy day,
even though my heart still blazes,
my soul aflame,
my spirit revived,
burning bright,
dispelling trepidation,
regretful pained memories,
to be left behind,
at long last,
surrendered to departing night …
years days moments minutes hours months weeks decades,
pockmarked,
weary,
skidding,
clinging onto,
raging roads,
hobbled,
shovelled,
dragged deep,
wrestling demons without,
within,
yet always,
always,
hugging hope,
as night yawns,
and a new day dawns …
empire …
crackling embers of empire,
spew noxious toxicity,
lashing,
weatherbeaten faces,
scratching,
gnawing,
crunching marrow,
burrowing deep,
slaying,
praying,
selling,
wearing down,
laboriously,
chilling the furnace of principle,
doused by carbonated fizz,
rendering consciences inured,
consciousness cremated,
ash rising,
ascending,
exalted,
amidst hazy,
blurred,
just out-of-focus,
silhouettes of humanness,
shred,
minced,
chewed,
spat out,
cast aside,
stripped off the moulting skin of greed,
left out to bleed,
as vultures skulk,
& currencies’ sulk,
– markets open,
– the horde pounces,
scalping,
remnants of dignity,
as sweat pours off backs,
& as innocence roasts in shacks,
as the cacophony grows ever more shrill,
buy!
buy!
checking-in all humanity,
left to suffocate,
in a cashiers till,
as we writhe,
entwined,
savaged & ravaged,
by the diktat of Profit,
while,
innocence starves,
emaciated,
discarded,
flung into the cesspool of want,
trampled upon,
barbecued on Capitals spit,
while hollowed souls,
wracked by inert life,
seek respite,
from want,
hunger,
from ceaselesss,
merciless strife
art breathes hope…
brusthrokes,
flourishes on canvas,
smells,
tasting a palette of oils,
perhaps echoes of earthy hues,
dusty charcoal,
leaving stains that don’t run,
while while the while …
savouring the warmth,
from a faraway sun,
that,
softens fingertips,
caresses hues,
sheds crimson tears,
falling,
like rainbows swirling,
greys on haggard parchment,
while while the while …
the artist feels hopelessness recede,
breathing in a peace,
a stillness,
within,
alive!
alive with hope,
as time retreats,
its swagger lost,
while while the while …
art and artist,
remain,
eternally clasped,
healing a shared pain,
wrapped in the warmth of each unit of time,
offering hope,
to still,
still,
dream of travels along teasing trails of sugarey stars,
just out of reach,
slipping through entwined fingers,
above us all,
in our shared common sky,
as artist and art,
embrace,
become one,
in the eternal second,
whispering away tears,
with hope dispelling,
all doubt,
all fears.
twilight shrouds my being,
worn down,
by shadows of myself,
silently fleeing …
while sifting through,
fragmented illusions,
of dawns yet to break,
of yesteryears wounds,
driving through me,
that old acquaintance –
oblivious time and its pitiless stake.
in my city,
walking wounded,
shuffle along.
anaesthetised.
inured.
blinded.
rendered impotent.
dehumanised,
swaggering through the hazy alleyways of The Market,
drunk.
stoned,
and,
religiously performing as trained.
buy.
buy.
buy?
words.
f***ing words.
meaningless adrift trapped inside far flung bottles hurled from tide to tide so why do i persist in this charade of soiled words this sham of ceaseless effluent flowing endlessly on and on and ever onwards in a torrent that would make kafka lodge a complaint sign (digitally) a petition make light of or generate hysteria while all the while the barrage of words persists thrives takes root in germinates deep within fungal rotten broken sad traumatised shackled minds a deluge of torn twisted lives contorted distortedly broken hung out to dry put out to pasture left out in the cold as the words spew forth empty hollowed out barely audible.
words.
f***ing words.
Scribbled Verse 