Archive for September, 2016

a love so true 

​neither wealth nor title, she shunned the two,

“I am whole, because you touch my soul when I am with you”,

and that was when we knew, this journey of ours, this love was true

what reaches, the inner reaches,

of a heart that reaches too far


​words echoing down empty halls, dripping bloodied emotions off barren walls, where yesterday left with callous haste, and tomorrow shudders to reveal its face:

scarred, mangled, shredded by the rat race, a void, the vacuum, where empathy slithers away without a trace … … …

​embossed against the walls of my thudding heart:

may our journey be shared, together,

never apart … … …

alone, I rest

​Alone, I rest.

In solitude, I breathe.

Alone at rest.

At last


​”smile”, she said with a wink.
I smiled.
I still am.

​I am the heartbeat of Africa. The blood flowing through her veins, and I have seen much. I have witnessed the the pummelling of peoples under the jackboot of colonialism, the plunder of wealth, stripping bare the very veins I flow through. I have urged the collective to stand tall, amidst the horrors of history. It has not been easy, the tyranny of centuries has left scars, raw scabby festering sores, my thumping scarlet oozing out of myriad pores, rendering the great continent pained, hollow … but still, and yet, I course inside millions of souls, refusing to capitulate, thick with hopes for the day and the days after the day. I have placated the wounded, the multitudes forgotten, the bodies seeking respite from the loss, the anger, the deprivation of spirits undimmed by the splintered darkness of racial prejudice. I have seen so much, children torn from loving embraces, mothers holding on, as the world turns its face away, conveniently absolving itself of its crimes. I have felt the hardening of arteries, the will to fight on, despite the overwhelming odds.

yes, I am the blood of Africa. 

and I shall continue to flow, coaxing my people to rise again, to summon up the valiant spirits of the ancestors, to stand and to fight against the insidious doublespeak of tongues, silken tongues peddling instruments of death, shunning the divides that separate one from another, to rise and greet the fresh blazing African sun, each day, every day, until that day when the daily battles cease, when the battles are done. 

yes, I am the blood of Africa, and I shall flow ever on, sowing hope where desolation stalks the evenings, I am hope for tomorrows dawn, for despite and inspite of it all, the new day of peace, of renewed hope, must be, must be born.

​on the passing of the years …

age creeps up on one, and with the lightness of a dandelion seed, it floats seductively before our eyes, and then flutters away. 

the falls and the follies of youth seem bygones away, mere filaments of strings of memories encapsulated in the recesses of the mind. 

the passing of the years is often linked to the attaining of ‘wisdom’, and though I certainly am not wise, but these ensuing years have I hope, at the very least, imbibed in me a little sense of understanding. 

and sometimes I think that may just be enough. 

there is far too much pain and sorrow and war and deprivation in this mad crazy world, and as the years pile on it is my hope, no my fervent wish, to understand more. 

and by understanding a little more, I hope to be more human, less plastic, more caring, less callous. 

it is not an easy path to tread, but thanks to the love of all those close to me, both past and present, I have embarked upon the journey.

there are many steps yet to be tread, one hopes. 

may they be walked with a sense of humanity. 

that much is enough. 

Today we celebrate our shared heritage, 

through smiles and tears, the ache of the past and the hopes of today and tomorrows yet unborn. 

Today we share our Africanness, our blood enmeshed within each other – bright red thumping through countless veins, reminding us of the spirit of uBuntu – I am because we are,

we are because of each other, fellow travellers through the travails of life, seeking not riches nor title, seeking the bright sunshine of peace banishing the darkness of strife. 

We are one people, myriad hues of the rainbow enveloping us all, 

lending a hand to each other, 

every time we stumble, each time we fall.

I am hope

I am the hope that soars, high above our shared African lands – a hope that skips over rainbows, the hope that trudges over the horrors of yesterday.
I am hope, smiling through tears that stain the soil, the hope that echoes across the valleys and plains, I am the hope of days to come.
I am hope, thud-thudding in countless hearts, lost at times amidst the detritus of history. 
I am hope.
embrace me, do not turn me away, hug me as I yearn to hug you. cherish me as I do you.
I am hope. I will prevail.

Viva Victor Jara 

Hasta la Victoria Siempre!

​      missing

      the taste





scribbling odes 





on bare skin:

my muse




my muse:






        the fabric

       of my soul





the light of hope … … …

​though pummelled by cantankerous day,

embracing encroaching night,

the desolation lifts,

glimpsing a shimmer in the tunnel,

of hope’s eternal light … … …

walking together … … …

​though today we tread on broken glass,

our time shall come to pass,

when we may walk  past the travails we seem to amass, 

and beyond the splinters of all that is crass … … …

waiting for you

​waiting for you, with quickening pulse,

desirous, anticipating the brush of your lips against mine,
kiss me deeply, I shall do the same,
today, and in our tomorrows yet to be teased out of time … … 

​what is this yearning,

this furnace, this cauldron,
this raging, fiery burning,
this need,

this ache,
these forms, entwined,

between clandestine half-nods,

momentary glances,

all those forgotten miles,

yet, still …


wanting, knowing,
the unsaid,

rendered unsayable,
by norms, forms,

blushes avoided,
rituals sanctified,

morals beatified,
while emptiness roams the heart,

as it feels itself,


ripped, torn apart,

yet, still …
inflamed by raw,

wild, ravenous desire,
hunger, famished souls,

seeking release,
from this deep freeze,

this styrofoam, inured,

buy-this not that-ness,
these shackles, obliviously embraced,

yawning phoney smiles,
in this world, these walls,

this society, these halls,
this whole racket,
looking back, bamboozled,
as to how one slipped so easily into,
this disturbingly comfortable straightjacket.

sapphire sky 

in the distance

flickering softly
warm hope

bathing this

soft morning

whispering tales of journeys done
beneath the canopy

of our shared 
sapphire sky


​and though the day be harsh, the night cold,
there is warmth, with your hand to hold

​heaving phantom weight, traversing life’s paths hardly ever narrow or straight, we scrape and bend stretching our resolve, searching evermore,  scanning the horizon for our souls to absolve …


​lilting, songs rise, from the ashes of torn dreams,
scattered on the waters, of this lifes  streams … … …

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