Archive for October 20, 2018


oncoming tides 

oncoming tides.

morning again,
tugging moonlight,
another

night slipping,
yielding, ceding,

the routine waltz of attrition,
dancing,

heartbeats afloat,

drifting back on cottonwool clouds,
shedding yesterdays moulting skin,
shadowplays of encroaching light,
cajoling hearts,

unshackled,
fluttering along the ramparts,
wrestling to adorn,

the props, the tools,
myriad masks,

shrouds,

smiles,

hides,
yet, yet,

yet hobbling still,
coat-collar turned up against mornings chill,
winding down alleyways of dreams,

of hopes,
braced ( i hope )
to weather,

more oncoming tides …

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​myriad interwoven strands of distilled feeling,

intoxicate me, leaving me reeling,

while forever more, I look up to you,

as I lay stricken, as I lay kneeling …


interwoven veins, crisscross this land, this continent, connecting the north to the south, the east to the west, veins infusing life, binding peoples, wrapped in the canopies of the forest, buzzing in the cacophony of the cities, silent in the arid deserts, meandering between the mangroves, flowing gracefully into the oceans, knitting us together, despite the slashing of these veins, the plunder of these lands, the desecration of the peace of the ancestors, tearing these veins open, pilfering the continent’s innards, gold and silver and copper and platinum and diamonds and so much more, so much more painful in the millions of souls herded as cattle, packed onto the slave ships, doomed to live and die in shackled misery, oh yes, these veins have felt it all, these veins that continually, silently, peacefully, benevolently, spread the precious gift of life across these lands, this continent – Africa.




The pendulum swings,

while the mania in my head,

strips me bare and yanks me,

into the cauldron of love.


Once again,

never divining the tea leaves,

knowing, always knowing,

the gnawing knots of unease,

that curl into a fist.


My isolation is a shield,

a suit of armour,

tightly clad around my self,

once worn,

then discarded,

taking its place,

on my barren shelf.


Love, mania and verse,

coalesce, beseeching me,

with timeous forewarning,

not to tread into the quicksand,

that slippery bog of promise.


Yet,

in times past,

in moments present,

tis’ that very promise,

that I cling to.


At times I lose,

myself in the crowd,

rebelling in the solitude found there,


at times I claw,

my way back to the now,

aching for the pain that stings,


the buried voice that sings,

dirges to forgotten emotions,


scribbled verse that flings,

the toys out of my cot,


while I wait,

for the mania to stop,


knowing,

always knowing,

that it shall be,


merely a matter of time,

before the other shoe,

must, as always, 

drop.

the stench of prejudice.



1.




when rancid prejudice strikes,

in cocooned fungal minds, narrow, superficially deep,


an insidious venom begins to seep,


into our consciousness as we sleep.



2.



bigoted beliefs held so true, so deep,

stripped of feeling,


empty, hollow, feigned, designed, branded as compassion,


feeds the conceit in chests swollen and rotten with self-righteous passion.



3.



the insidious extremism once firmly entrenched,


envelopes all, not unlike a comforting shawl,


needing more and more bluster to fester, and to mutate,


into doctrines of superiority, bigotry, and new fashioned, ‘palatable’ hate.



4.



are we guilty of succumbing to this virulent plague?


sipping our cappuccinos, and shovelling more, always more onto our heaving plates,


falling, slipping into inebriated stasis, without care,


as the stench of hate, prejudice, gay-bashing, terrorism, racism, antisemitism, islamophobia, xenophobia, misogyny, casteism, tribalism,


continues to belch into the polluted air.




talking regurgitated impotent worldwide injustice blues …




i have been here so many times before, spewing forth words that must be by now a repetitive bore.



scribbling this and that, having said it all so many times, these tired, paltry, meagre words seem to be just cobbled together to rhymes.



all my belched words appear impotent to me today, scribbled over and over again, reeking of stale garbage, stinking in the rain.



words and emotions felt deep, gnawing at my being, spat out, to ears unhearing, thrust before eyes unseeing.



so i ask myself why carry on this wordy parade, of simplistic rhymes, of grammar unsound, yet feeling compelled to keep going on this endless merry-go-round.



all my walls shattered, my ramparts battered, yet still i need to throw up these words, hither and thither scattered.



but i ask myself how can i stop, when most of humanity is used as a ragged mop, when the few like vampires feast on the human blood they suck, squeezing out sweat from the many who are condemned to bleed in the muck.



i see the good people all around me, burying their heads so they never may see, their selfish religiosity on display for all to ooh and aah, while their own religions’ humanistic tenets they keep afar.



the curse of neo-colonialism, neo-imperialism, and of bonded labour, strangle the many, while the 1% their champagne do savour.



misogyny, child-abuse, spousal and gender violence, hetero-patriarchy, female genital mutilation, in 2017 upon women everywhere is still what is endured, with all dignity slashed, while platitudes are spoken from pulpits, the sham of indignation hypocritically rehashed.



governments the world over spending trillions on weapons of death, while pleading poverty when it comes to free, dignified, professional health.



the 99% still slaves to the tyranny of shameful wages, the conditions that have tortured so many throughout the ages.



words of struggle and of principled defiance, words like ‘freedom’, ‘democracy’, ‘justice’, ‘equality’, have been cynically pilfered, by those in the corridors of business and of political power, while choking grimy dust across the planet does continually shower.



my mother is still paid so much less, than the very men who conjured up this economic mess, and if she demands higher wages she is castigated for the thoughts, while the business tycoons, the government men blather on about their newly-acquired luxury yachts.



the struggles of Nelson Mandela and of Martin Luther King, are neatly repackaged gutting out their sting, remodelled to be acceptable, while burying the essence of their revolutionary call, the demand for free education, health, housing, dignity, justice and work for all.



we wear these icons of resistance on t-shirts made in sweatshops in bangladesh, the ultimate betrayal of their sacrifice, of the humane values they espoused, while the fires of resistance are with brutal, apathetic drivel doused.



this planet, our common earth, is being pummelled each day, nature itself is for profit ravaged, caring not that we shall leave behind an earth that has been for greed savaged.



when by the most powerful, ugly male egotistical, macho posturing is bleated out, beating the drums and threatening endless for-profit wars, the rest of us are petrified, for the mighty have long reaching claws.



racist notions of supremacy are bandied about without a murmur of indignation, the evils of casteism, religious fanaticism, tribal and narrow sectarianism, grotesque nationalism, gay bashing, and misogynist sewage is poured with glee, and still we turn our collective heads, pretending we can’t see.



when speaking truth to power is deemed a capital crime, how impotent i feel scribbling yet another listless rhyme.



when societies are structured to create a craving for the materialistic trappings of capitalism, how easily tainted into swear words are the values of socialism.



what is demanded are not mansions of ostentatious gaudy gold, each replete with a marbled hall, but water, food, electricity, dignified work, health, education, housing, and peace and dignity for all.



they truly want us divided, on religious, caste, racial, narrow nationalistic, sexual orientation, male-female, and all the other lies, while all the while the hungry child for just some food cries.



they know if we break out of our narrow cocoons, they shall have to face the wrath of a united world, a world become one, for then none of their machinations shall suppress us, and only then shall our truest battles be hard won.



i may be a hypocrite for scribbling these rhymes, but then so are you for not hearing the bell tolling for a radical changing of the times.



how long will it take for us to rise, to dissent, to question everything that has been to us said, from the economy to religion to race, class, and to gender too, what will it take me to see what is right in front of me, and for you to see what is right in front of you.



when shall we cast off these shackles that imprison us, the shackles of apathy and of looking the other way, not realising that together we can and should and must strive for a better day, not perhaps to rid us of all suffering and all pain, all oppression, and perhaps not in one fell swoop, but at least taking our first steps towards progressive progression.



these scribbled, worthless words, seem nothing but an empty vessel drummed on and on each day,



but from the heart i do write,



about what i believe to be wrong,



and what i believe to be right.





a repost:





A Tribute.


Dr. Martin Luther King Jr.

(1929 – 1968)




    1.



    You had a dream, of pastures of peace,

    where children of all hues mingle like rainbows.



    2.




    They silenced you, yet your dream
    resounds louder still,

    in pastures not yet of peace,

    where children of all hues mingle like rainbows.



    3.





    You said that you had been to the mountain top,

    they tried to strangle your voice as you saw the promised land,

    those pastures of peace,

    where children of all hues mingle like rainbows.



    4.




    Today your dream is glimpsed in pastures,

    not yet of peace,

    for though they tried to silence your voice,

    your spirit in our collective hearts does rejoice.



    5.





    Your spirit, your dream,

    mingles in the winds of all those pastures,

    over the valleys, in the oceans, across the mountains,

    in every flowing stream.




    6.





    Today, your dream lives in the wind,

    seeding the prairies, the steppes, the savannahs, the pampas,

    pastures of peace,

    where children of all hues mingle like rainbows.




    7.





    We remember you today,

    with a shared pledge to nourish those pastures of peace,

    in each of us,

    where your dream may thrive,

    blossoming into our shared dream,

    bounteous, and alive.




    8.





    Your dream realised shall then seem,

    where children of all hues mingle like rainbows,

    when we give life to the promise of the radiance of your beautiful dream.








    they do not see me at all …


    1.


    They do not see me at all,

    as I walk through these desecrated avenues,

    of soul-deadening frenzy.


    I see them rushing past me,

    and no matter how hard I holler and call,

    they do not see me at all.


    It seems at times, that invisible am I,

    for when I reach out, and shriek,

    when on my knees I crawl,

    they rush past me,

    for they do not see me at all.


    I have tried to raise their ire,

    I have taunted and goaded them,

    till exhausted and fatigued,

    to the cold damp ground I fall,

    still they rush past me,

    for they do not see me at all.


    I stand mutely,

    waving my hands all around while scribbling verses in my unintelligible scrawl,

    still they rush past me,

    for they do not see me at all.


    They rush past me, knocking me over without ever looking back,

    trampling over my fallen form,

    they look past my limp crumpled shadow,

    as they whine on in their monotonous drawl,

    and they still do not see me at all.


    2.


    When they look my way,

    flickers of recognition crossing their faces,

    I crawl back into my nothingness,

    cocooned as the day begins to pall,

    hoping, tired and broken,

    to be back in the space,

    where they cannot see me at all …







    the subtle constant of mathematics …




    Rigorous proof.

    Simple.

    Constant.

    Real.


    Not this implausible charade, this illogical masquerade.


    All our perambulations,

    wasted wordy navigations,

    our tottering,

    our swaying,

    our constant greed,

    to believe,

    clinging onto inexplicable human need:


    The belief in fantasy,

    fantasy as staple nutrition,

    upon which our common illusions feed.



    when gloom sweeps down, sinking its talons into my skin,

    it has always been you who guides me out of the fog, out of the doom, out of the bog.

    it has always been you,

    ever gentle,

    ever loving,


    ever true …

    her moist eyes met mine,

    entangled like twisting twine,


    we laughed off all the years that have past,

    while smiling at those still to be passed …



    my starved eyes, aching for a glimpse of your smile, ready to beguile, their thirst quenched, seeking simple joys, not million dollar toys, finally, coaxed the ocean of your eyes, to reveal the kernel of truth beneath the veneer of lies, so love me now, today, where fractured dreams are made whole by the sea spray, plunging deeper into the ocean shimmering in your eyes, hoping we may breathe, like the terror of time, high on up into blue skies, where love roams unshackled, in that ocean so deep …

    in your beautiful eyes …




    Your eyes sketch skies,

    a silken canvas.


    Your touch,

    the smell of your hair,

    seduces me,

    in an avalanches of curls.


    Our kisses like tributaries fanning out, eroding life’s cold hard stone.


    In your arms,

    in the shadows of your form,


    I am whole,

    I am never alone.




    We will weather the storms of fate, we will face the winds of life, together“, she said.


    There was nothing for me to opine.



    So I took her hand in mine.






    no more wasted moments …



    No more wasted moments,

    strewn like salt across the wound.


    No more wasted moments,

    discarded as empty specks of trust.


    No more wasted moments,

    in dire need of thorough shredding.


    No more wasted moments,

    far too many of them to count.


    No more wasted moments,

    spent on wretched emotions left to dry.


    No more wasted moments,

    reeking of the stench of rotten feelings.


    No more wasted moments,

    coarse and vulgar and mutely violent,

    no more wasted moments,

    spent on the vile disregard of the silent.


    No more wasted moments,

    grasping each moment with a trust anew,

    no more wasted moments,

    embracing each moment for it to be true.






    I’ve walked many a mile, alone, desolate, aimless“, I said.


    not anymore“, she said with a smile,


    we have found each other, even though it may have taken a long while“.




    art by Pablo Picasso



    100% total schmaltzy mushiness 😁 …




    She knows she has my heart in her palm, she knows she is my life’s soothing balm.


    She knows she lives deep in my heart, she knows we cannot imagine being apart.


    She knows her love is my shining light, she knows she blazes within me bright.


    She knows all of this and more, 

    she knows neither of us have felt a love so pure …


    😁😎😊




    Nature at Peace …



    Settling on a branch, the solitary bird sings of its desolate pain,

    the leaves of the tree shielding the bird from the jabbing rain,

    the delicate branch straining to bear the weight of the bird,

    while all across the savanna, on countless branches, the echoes of plaintive birdsong can be heard …


    … offering respite to the weary, rest for the weak, relief to those seeking a momentary escape from the scorching day,

    the trees, sharing their bounteous shade, sweep the detritus of the day away …


    … all of nature, in harmonious rhythm,

    as gentle night embraces the savanna,

    soothing all in a pristine feeling of ease,

    as all of nature finds succour,

    in the safe cocoon of nature’s comforting peace …








    you have become my all.


    my everything.


    your love raging through my veins,


    warming me during these desolate nights of piercing, stinging rains.




    you are my all.

    my eternal flame,


    a constant beacon, drawing me ever closer,


    sheathed in the glorious sunshine of your love,


    a precious gift, bequeathed unto me by the generous heavens above.




    you are my all.


    my everything.




    you are the radiant brilliance of a flowering rose,


    your fragrance filling my being, merging as one with my soul,


    as our hearts seek each others,


    aching to be closer than just close.




    your essence is soaked within my every pore,


    i have never felt a love like this before.




    so allow me to thank you for loving me so completely,


    your blazing furnace scorching me,


    as i have bathed in the ocean of your pure love,


    a love so rare in this cruel time and empty place,


    yet i am made whole,


    as my hands caress the soft, gentle, beauty of your exquisite face.




    you are my all.

    you are my life.




    you embrace me, as I do you,


    shielding each other from the pain, the cold, the strife.




    you have picked me up whenever i have stumbled,


    as i continue to vow to do,


    always lending you a hand,


    as the wrinkles on our faces grow deeper, and as the years pall,


    i will be by your side,


    each time you slip,

    and every time you fall … 





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