on hope: tomorrow is ours

years ebb, flow,
tangoing the same old dance, rehashing the same tired show,

temporarily anaesthetised,
inured,

cured, from the accursed affliction,
buy, drink, eat, and buy some more,

as the machine grinds flesh and bone,
rendering hearts frigid as stone,

years like tides, slip away,
sweeping this beach of dreams,

common dreams, shared through the uBuntu of being human,

hope, for a less harsh world,
more food, less war,

education, not the burning of books,

treating each other as human,
shedding the cloak of indifference,

to revel,
all of us, the people,

bathed in the warm light of true freedom, real justice,

as bigotry, hatred, racism, misogyny etc etc etc in the corner cowers,

for we shall always,
always, be many, many more,

for tomorrow shall dawn,
and the future is ours …

for Dr. Carl Sagan ( 1934 – 1996 )

the subtle constant of mathematics.

rigorous proof.
simple. constant. real.

not this implausible charade,
illogical masquerade,

all our perambulation,
wasted wordy navigation,

our tottering,
our swaying,

our constant need,

to believe,
clinging onto inexplicable human need,

the belief in fantasy:

fantasy as staple nutrition,
upon which our collective illusions, and delusions,

continally feed

on time: the big deal

another new years eve,
that time,

the big deal, the hype,
balloons,
               fireworks,
                                feasts,

the big deal, the razzmatazz,
getting sozzled,

new years eve ?

               

           is this the price,

the label,

                the tag,

        the bottom-line ?

moulting the skins, the shedding of the masks, the casting away, not off, of times’ collected detritus,

no.

that old shot in the arm,
the morale-boosting, fix-it in-a minute happy fuzzy fix,

fortifying the chattel,

           rebuilding the ramparts,

solidifying strategies,

defences,
                 in the trenches,

work,
          life,
                 &,
                    perhaps ‘love’ ?

no,
not that lie.

peddle it not to me.

not anymore.

😇:)

on fate, destiny & futility: starstuff

on fate, destiny & futility: starstuff …

stringed, strung,

theoretically plausible,
infinite universes within a bubble,

floating in the space, between spaces,

where time, and days and kisses and tears and fears and smiles and anger and all of this and lots of that,

oh and faces,
all blurring into nothingness,

starstuff, is all,
agonisingly close, or chillingly far,

starstuff is all,
we ever were,

starstuff is all,
we still are …

        ______________

inspired by Dr. Carl Sagan

remembering my heroes …

Oliver Reginald Tambo
(ANC President)

Solomon Mahlangu
( MK Cadre executed by Apartheid Regime)

Chris Hani
(Leader of South African Communist Party & ANC Leader, assassinated in 1993)

Steve Biko
(Leader of the Black Consciousness Movement, brutally murdered by Apartheid Security Forces)

Patrice Lumumba

Amilcar Cabral

Jawaharlal Nehru

Winnie Mandela, Nelson Mandela & Joe Slovo

The Logo for the ANC’s Armed Wing – The Spear of the Nation, Umkhonto-we-Sizwe or MK

Thabo Mbeki, Govan Mbeki,  Walter Sisulu & Nelson Mandela

Langston Hughes

Fidel Castro & Samora Machel

WE REMEMBER YOU

WE HONOUR YOU

WE SALUTE YOU

double-helixed uBuntu

double-helixed uBuntu.

these interwoven veins,
dna,
double-helixed,

microscopic,
binding us, all of us,
together, as one,

species, one race,
human,

me & you

us,
all,

through
this common
shared
truth:

‘I am because you are’*

all of us
together
as one

me & you = uBuntu*

* – uBuntu is an isiXhosa/isiZulu concept that espouses the “belief in a universal bond of sharing that connects all humanity”

on compromise: half-measures

on compromise: half-measures.

galloping, striding, marching,
hand in hand, lovers in the sun,

sozzled, numb,

to hell with what is real,
what bleeds, who feeds,

its salivating, seducing, irresistible,
fun, fun, fun,

chasing fleeting pleasures,
momentary, vanishing between blinks of unseeing eyes,

tempus fugit,
                        as time flies,

paying obeisance,
to house & home,
the car, bar,

ameliorated apathy,
dousing guilt,

with the blade of excess buried deep,

embedded to the hilt,

filling our lives with half-measures,

skewered in the pan,
flashes,
of ashes,

not savouring the drop of dew, the nectar of life,

instead striding, marching,
galloping, on and ever on,

to empty, hollow pleasures,

this is life,

lived out, dumbed down,
in glitzy,
half-measures

blah-meh-blahdeblah

scarred by gentle caresses,
ripped apart by tender kisses,

fractured within,
a ceaseless masqurade without,

when,
           does the ache mend,
lose its sting,
                       soften the blows,

while destiny,
                        fate,
    tomorrows not yet dawned,

shedding tears for pain unmourned,
                     battered blue,
                     and black,

always an arms reach away,
from my weathered backpack,

to venture, to plunge,

into the waters of chance,
where hopes dreams joys,
all dance,

a lifetime away,
yet embossed on the mindscape,

a fleeting moment,
vanishing,
                  an eternal nostalgic glance
                    

on futility: my flaccid tongue

on futility: my flaccid tongue

words scrawled, scribbled,
excised, living breathing feeling,
             wrenched,
             amputated,
             inured,

words, scribbled scrawl,
bloated on self, bulbous grotesque ego,

urging,
            cajoling,
                           purging,
            contrived hysterics,
            lofty idealism, crass,
            authoritarian brass,
            wooden, ablaze with
            mock shock,
            and awe,

thrashing around,
words, scribbled scrawled gibberish,

flaccid, as the tongue,
from which they were wrung.

jo’burg breeze

tasting you,
                     breathing you,
                    feeling you,

                    exquisite,
                  bittersweet
                     touches,

undulating,

swaying in the jo’burg breeze,
             
             for just knowing you,
          infuses emotions of mirth,

of simple joys,

                         of peace …

moonlight on an overcast jo’burg night

cloaked, shrouded,
misted within silver clouds,

moonlight slips, slides,
cascades,

drizzles down,

like her soft hair,
her velveteen swirls,
twirls,

that caress my face,

like moonlight,
on an overcast jo’burg night

strumming moments

strumming moments

notes,
discordant, awash in today,

plucking strings, teasing chords,

strumming along,
tuneless …

my song 🎼

bidding another year adieu

and when i see,
breathe her, her softness a whisper away,

she knows the ache, i fear,
of wanting,
needing perhaps,
the feeling of feeling dear,

not much,
soothing warmth,
enveloped,

our warmth, a light autumn shawl,

her fingers, mine,
tracing sketches, scribbles,
our waltzing fingers entwined,

shedding this year that wasn’t, or hardly was at all,

like so, so many yesteryears,

now long passed,

quietly, threading catacombs crumbling into dust,

gently, reverently,
laying it down, leaving it all far, far behind,

a few shared moments,
of gentleness, warmth, solace,

of pure, innocent, delicious, alluring promise of bliss,

so rare,
            priceless, almost,
           
            almost,
            too rare to find … …

You are All

times’ grating

           sandpaper
           in my eyes

without seeing much
         yet having seen:

you.

and you
              are
                    all i need to see … …

Random Scribbley thoughts of Her

’tis been an eternity,
since i met you,

your eyes,
                 into whose deep
                 depths,
                 cascading within,

                 i would gladly
                 drown,

plummeting into,
all of you,

within you,
your thoughts,

your dreams,

your
waking
fantasies,

oh i would indeed,
if these were not mere scribbles,
                 empty, hollow,

bereft of hope,
entombed in sorrow … … …

🙂

on the futility of time …

on the futility of time …

                     one more chiselled notch
                           carved in my heart

          drawing blood
          raw wounds
          cauterised  

          just as

         another year
                                creeps
          slithers
                                 crawls
          into

          another year … … …

on apathy: “I don’t Care”

I Don’t Care

I don’t care,
if you’re battered black and blue,

I don’t care,
just as long as I can drink and screw.

I don’t care,
if you’ve lost your damn job,

I don’t care,
you’re just a kernel off the cob.

I don’t care,
when I see you begging in the street,

I don’t care,
I get to suckle on capitalism’s raw teat.

I don’t care,
about the elderly, the poor, or the weak,

I don’t care,
if the earth will be inherited by the meek.

I don’t care,
if the climate is warming, I’m so much cooler,

I don’t care,
in my penthouse I’m the boss, the only ruler.

I don’t care,
for those rolling for scraps in the muck,

I don’t care,

I really don’t care, cos’ I don’t give a fuck.

inspired by Bob Geldof’s “The Great Song of Indifference”

breathless

                 

              breathless

laboured
               tortured

each breath
                     swallowed

greedily gulping gasping

each breath
                    stolen
                               without you

end of year schmaltzyness …

… … … … … … …

there may be no answer,
from you,
from times’ tick-tocking rhymes,

and,
it matters not,

not anymore,

for,
i would truly be blind,

were i not to feel a lost sliver of a breath,

of hope,
elusive,
impossible,
alluring,
addictive …

so i bid you farewell, for now,

but,
who knows,

perhaps,

our paths may,

someplace, sometime,
seek each others’,

however difficult,
those paths may appear,

we may,
yet, still meet,

as sure as this approaching dawns’ hopeful light,

dispels the bleakness,

of yet another lonesome night … … … … … …

a new year beckoning …

a new year beckons, thusly a scribble on trodding onwards 🙂

we have been hurt,
battered by time,
by fate,

we have been stung,
by harsh tongues wagging,

words,
            words,
                        hollow,
  meaningless,
                         harsh tirades borne, colder words, mere words,
            spoken,

meant to jab,
                       prod,
ceaseless,
                 until spirits are torn,
                
                        broken …

   
   

… still,
           we endure,

    still,
           we hope,

for,
      we may be lashed.     against fates’ ropes,

    still,
           we endure,

we cling on,
                     to dreams,
                     shared hopes,

for,

we shall rise,
            
              staggering perhaps,

                but standing,
                never kneeling,

however painful,
                              or sorrowful,

times may be,
for we shall stand,

if,
   if,

we are together,
offering each other,

a warm, soothing hand … …

Yoda’s advice to Trump et al

Yoda’s unsolicited advice to the Trump and the Republicans:

“Fear is the path to the dark side. Fear leads to anger. Anger leads to hate. Hate leads to suffering.”
  
       ______________

may the ‘leaders’ heed the little green Jedi’s words.

free as the wind

your strength
                          your resolve

your resilience
                          your warmth

real
       tangible
                       fiery

sparks
            afloat
                      in
                          the
                                 wind

                      unshackled
                     free

to soar
            boundless skies

…

    and i

          who have shared
                monents
                                 or two,

             lost
                    blinded

were it not for you

           gentleness sublime

shared

            in stolen moments

my unseeing gaze meeting

deep
         inviting eyes …

why do i miss you …

… strange are the ways of fate,
stranger still,
is my aching heart,

my thud-thudding heart,
’tis all yours,
through and through,

why, you may ask,

but,
i have not a clue,

but ’tis true,
i don’t know why,

i miss you …

Never Again

one century ago,

the 30s and 40s,
the world convulsed,

the odour of colonialism,
imperialism, fascism, nazism, genocide, ethnic cleansing,

hung in the air,

an ideology + one name:

nazism, hitler,

moved the world to pledge to us, the succeeding generations:

” N E V E R   A G A I N ”

a hundred years on,

may our silence not condemn,
succeeding generations,

so may this name not be associated with these times:

Donald Trump

mushy-schmaltzy scribble …

strange are parallel lines,
destined never to meet,

two hearts, aflame,
aching,
beating,

seeking litte,
not wealth nor title,

seeking human tenderness,
a gentle comforting solace,

when sipping from her eyes’ chalice,

parallel lines,

we may be,
bound never to meet,

seeking only peace, gentle love, trust,

another soul with whom to share this lifes’ smiles, tears,

each days’ hopes,
some nights’ fears,

parallel line we are, yes,

though we may never meet,

you are a part of me,

breathing your beauty into every  breath I breathe,

yearning for you,

its always been only you,

in every heartbeat.

the extremists VS us, the people

the following was written within a South African context, but sadly i feel similar emotions when hearing Mr. Trump, a person who may one day have the authority to use nuclear weapons, repeatedly make blatantly xenophobic and racist utterances.

Mr. Trump perhaps should be made aware of the ancient African concept of ‘uBuntu’ – uBuntu is an isiXhosa/isiZulu concept that espouses “the belief in a universal bond of sharing that connects all humanity”

“I am because we are”

              _________

in the belly of xenophobia.

when you see them,
passing by your pretty green avenues,

grab your garden rake,
stone the encroaching horde,

they take our jobs,
they marry our women,

put them all
to the sword,

“bloody foreigners”

“wetbacks”

“nigger”

leeching off our taxes,
stinking up the neighborhood,

send them all home,
or better still,
build walls,

seal the borders,
and don’t allow “them” into our fair country,

seek them out in every street,

in every bar,
and finish them off,
one by one,

finish and klaar,

and rest assured,

if not that,
then atleast fuhrer trump and all his cash,

will find you as many  scapegoats you wish to gleefully bash.

                  ______

* – ‘klaar’ is Afrikaans for ‘finished’

Lennon

we are complicit

in the name of creed,
you rape, you pillage,

all of you,
you bigoted daesh sympathisers,

yes, you too!

in the name of creed,
you invade, you bomb,

all of you,
you bigoted trump-e-teers,

yes, you too!

in the name of creed,
you lash women, you kill anyone you choose to,

all of you,
you religious apologists,

yes, you too!

in the name of creed,
nationalism, tribalism, patriarchy, casteism, racism, jihadism,

you claim to speak in my name,

all of you,
you misogynist, racist, bigoted, evangelical atheist,

yes, you too!

in the name of greed,
you take, you colonise,

all of you,
you insatiable capitalist proponents,

yes, you too!

in the name of whatever,
whoever, whomever, thingy-ism,

you remain silent,
ergo,
you are complicit,

all of us,

yes, me too!

“first they came for the _____” ( Mr. Trump, fill in the blanks )

then they came for the ______________

( fill in the blanks, Mr. Trump )

be careful,
the extremists appear to be on the ascendancy,

the brutal murderers of daesh and the neonazi drivel of trump,

so be careful: guard your mind,

never forget,
remember,

always,
always remember:

“first they came for the Communists …”

the African rains

Soaking,
the rains settle,
meandering over jagged faultlines of our memory.

Drenching,
the rains settle,
streaming through veins,

the thud-thudding of the heartbeat of Africa.

Absorbing,
the rains that settle,
within each of us,

herald rebirth.

And,
if you listen,

if you strain to hear,
while shedding the raucous noise of your inner turmoil.

If you listen,

the whispers of the ancestors,

speak to us all,
lending us warmth,
urging us to stand,

even though we may
stumble,

even though we may fall.

within me

you smashed everything apart,
your light shone so bright,
you lost me from the start,

yet, and still,

you breathe within me as i trudge through another day and as another night readies itself to depart,
your light shines so bright,
deep in the creased corridors of fate ( do i believe that )

for you have the largest part of my miniscule heart

more nonsense …

nonsensical lines of a scribble …

unknotting, woven words,
stitched between folds of unseeing eyes,

glimpses, here and there,

stranded on islands of desolation,
stung by panic,

gasping for breath,
marooned on a sliver,
razored, sharp,

tearing you from the inside out,
and it won’t matter how loudly you holler,

cry, wail,
shout,

slipping into worn shades,
of yesterdays souls, worn thin and weary,
exhausted,
fatigued,
shellshock,

these enslaved moments,
of claustrophobic pain,

real sorrow,
today, real,
really now,
not some faroff morrow,

of having worn too many masks,
with nowhere left to hide,

except between the lines of a scribble

passion in d-major

passion in d-major …

feelings,
ragged, splintered,
sandpapered,
velveteen gentleness,

swirling tongues of fire,
serenading sensuous brushstrokes,

on canvas,

whirling, afloat,
on an old bridge not far from where she used to live,

rising, imbued with life,
a symphonic crescendo,
of shared heartbeats,

fading between notes,

entwined,
an orchestral rising,

conducting passion,
electric sparks flaming into musical echoes,

at the precipice,
beyond the rains,
of dazzling rainbow hues,

lost in void,
eternally,

scalding the depths of rhyme,
ravaged by the endless song and dance and mime,

pleading,

for a prolonged
bouquet of shared time … …

two-minute scribble … …

our fingers,
entwined,
walking away,

from the din of the day,
embracing the solitude of night,

with you in my arms,
dreams ablaze,
soaring into effervescent flight,

touching you, feeling you,
tasting you, consumed,
by a raging desire,

thrashed against the cliffs,
pitiless fate,

in-between engulfing waves,
gulping,
breathfuls of you,

all of you,
always, forever,

irresistibly true … …

fractured wings …

fractured wings …

splinters stabbing,
emotions jabbing, the knife twists agonisingly slow,

deeper into the hearts innermost core,
where its only you,

of course, ’cause for 12 a d some years,

it has always, always,

been …

you … …

common fountain

in a world tugging,
pulling, drawing & quartering,

each soul apart,

and as mercy, humanity, love,

effortlessly, and resistance-free,

departs,

embracing ignorance, hugging credulous unreason,

fracturing the human bones,
cartilage, tendons ripped,

shattered hearts, broken minds,

there can be but one answer,
simplistic as it may sound,

teach respect, not creed,
worship shared humanity,
shun lecherous greed,

then, and I fear only then,
may we truly, as one,

from our common fountain feed … …

talkin’ gay abandon blues … …

talkin’ gay abandon blues … …

they tell me I’m pretty,
fellas always telling me I’m cute too,

oh but they weren’t, aren’t,
nowhere as irresistible as you,

it ain’t the way you do your hair,

oh no it ain’t the way you dress,

and it sure ain’t cos’ you’re a smooth talkin’ fella,

oh no,
it ain’t cos’ of any of that and much more,

i got the blues for you,

staggering away from my liquor store,

so say its true, its eatin’ me up inside,

say it so there ain’t no place i can slip away and hide,

or say nothing at all,

that’s the ache of the blues,
ain’t never gonna know,

if life is gonna kick you down,
if you’re gonna stumble, and fall,

or if you’re gonna be as you have always been,

standin’ proud, tall,
stoic, but never just a wall … …

talkin’ nugget-o-gold blues …

talkin’ nugget-o-gold blues … …

stolen glances,
hearts aflame,

oblivious, blind,
reaching out,

yearning,
aching for,

not much,
but everything,

everything human,
not much,
but everything human,

eyes meeting eyes,
the furnace of your being,
form,
body,

your breath scorching me,
desire like tinder,

an oasis in this desert,

of my life,

of,

smiles, tears,
pain, fears,

sorrow,
joy, happiness,

strife,

ah, but you see,

where you are,
right now, presently,

is where i saw you last,
in dreamy waves of wishes long past,

yet, still alive,
breathing,

living today, now … …

… … so may i join you,
and all that i know to be true,

cloaked beneath monsoon skies,

to share,
to quench roaring flames,
of need,
want,

biddin’ adieu to yesterdays shames,

singin’ these blues into our shared night,

alone,
together,
passionate,

intense, never dense,
and all that jazz,

though oftentimes,

laying it all bare,
real,

devoid of frills,

of candy confetti-meaningless razzmatazz … …

living life now – or dying a bit each day … …

living life now,
or dying a little each day … …

lost amidst the flotsam and jetsam,
nonchalantly cast aside,

what may I possibly say:

you’ll soon tire,
as you often do,
of your spanking new toy,
I say,
that there’s always a prettier boy,

around every bend,
in every street,
in every city,

there are always lovelier things,

for,
us puppets,
to prance,

do the necessary dance,
and song,

tugged by emotion,
at will,
oblivious of the machinations,

of the manipulator of strings,

so love the one,
who is there,
in every sense,

and it is alright to be human,
again,

so cry,
as do I,

for pedestals should be made,
to be finite,

prone to being broken,

so,
let’s be kind, if nothing else,
to each other, the planet over,

may our shared humanity,
uBuntu,
be from slumber woken,

that’s all,
in a hail of pompous words flung around,

and ever so casually spoken … …

gibberishly sprechening …

your eyes sketch skies,
silken sandpaper,

your touch,

the smell of your hair,
seducing me,

avalanches of curls,
kisses like tributaries fanning out, eroding the cold hard stone,

in your arms,
in shadows of your form … …

… … I am not whole,
perhaps half and half,

but never am I,
with you … … alone.

interwoven jazz …

interwoven jazz … …

time to leave the obfuscation,
euphemisms,
platitudes,

time to shed the detritus of who we once were,
why we once never could be,

strewn amidst the thorns,
jabbing through the turbulent sea,

each wave,

breaking,
crashing,

threaded strings,
foamy universes within foam,

dashing the jagged cliffs,

steep,
daunting,
impregnable,
conceited,

arrogance of invincibility,

the choice of loss,

tracer bullets pockmarking the diseased sky,

splintering egos,
crushing ideals,
held aloft sacrosanct,
wringing ideology,
mere attempts,
feeble at least,

the grandiose fiction of an all en-compassing “explanation of it all”

the unscaleable wall,

where dreams collide,
headlong into concrete apartheid,

headstrong,
belief,
unreason,
faith,

trust,
honesty, love,

lie fractured,
scattered bones strewn here,
there,

and some places foreboding yet alive,
in between,

the transparency of justice,
or,

the prism of competing beliefs,

which leaves this soul, cut,

ripped apart,
torn,
at the seams,

having set sail on the river of hopes,

having soared the blue expanse,
in free flight,

a torch, always,

always, burning, shining bright,

a beacon in the desolate night,

aloft at last,

winged chariots of unfinished dreams.

the calm balm of the palm

there are these moments,
often permeating my pores,

the sense of you,
your smile,
your presence,

a soothing balm,

enveloping,
cocooning,
caressing,
infusing,

moments,
with you,

simple,
true,

wrapping me in a warmth of serenity,

soothing shroud,
warm,
wild,

calm,

gently swaying in the breeze,

an intoxicating tropical breeze,

nestled in your arms,
beneath the shade of a palm,

truth_lies : who cares ?

| truth_lies: who cares |

they say the truth needs only be whispered,

they say so much,
about truth and about lies,

they know so much about both,

its blatant,
plainly clear,

they’ve peddled lies,
and tarnished truths,

haven’t we all,

in-between the translucent haze,
of so many drinks,

dumbed down before the worlds’ eyes’ blinks,

yes, and i am sorry,
but who are you again,

I didn’t get your name,
actually, i really don’t care,

and yes,
that really is,

like life,

a shame.

talkin’ springsteenesque introspection blues …

talkin’ springsteenesque introspection blues …

i have lost myself,
so often,
tripping over the tangled barbs,
here and there and everywhere i have been,

splintering me more,
each time we hauled ass,

and where once i tried to sew myself whole,

now i know,
sure,

all the random trivia,
a bit of this

but not much of much at all,

that’s the truth,
and i’ll stick to it,
go ahead,
haul me up against the wall,

but now, you see,
that now i see a little more,
cutting deep to the core,

i’ve been putting on a show,
playing the part,
cowardly,
callow,

hollow,
empty,
blind-mans bowl,

and chillingly,
effortlessly,
almost now,

clanging on,
the same old song,
the tired old dance,

but then again having strutted once,
puffy,
conceited ego,
once,

and since i have been humbled,

many times since,
this old shell has had some touch-up, and some paint,

but still,
typecast,
twisted,
playing the sad old role,

vagabond castaway,
misfit whatever,
neither here nor there,

and not that i don’t,
(pretend, at leas) to care,

i am tired of the perennial fare,

this endless fair,

playing the skin i shed yesterday,

slipping into my new skin today,

vaulting myself high,
perched up,
on the mantle,

tucked away,
between suburban pomposity,
and expected holier-than-thouness,

but now after all these years,
and after all these miles and after all these tears,

i think i am able to get through the times,
when my burden of sins,

keeps kicking me in the shins,

because one thing i know is what you said,

what you said, man, was true,

i remember it was during one of your pre-song talk-in/intro/philosophical detours on that never-ending highway,

i remember it time and time,
i’ll remember it always,
again and again,

each time i’m kicked in the shins,

remember, you said,

“… remember, in the end, no one wins unless everyone wins.”

         _______________

for Bruce Springsteen