free as the wind …
your strength, your resolve,
your resilience, your warmth,
real, tangible, fiery,
sparks afloat in the wind,
unshackled, free,
to soar the boundless skies,
and i,
i am fortunate,
to have shared a moment or two,
and i am lost, blinded,
if it weren’t for you,
a gentleness sublime,
shared,
in stolen moments,
when,
my unseeing gaze meets your deep, inviting eyes.
from the Nelson Mandela Foundation
from the Nelson Mandela Foundation
2019 …
twenty-nineteen beckons,
our final years of being teens,
but will we ever grow up – will we ever heed the words of the peacemakers, will we ever learn from the lessons of history?
unfortunately not – for we do not heed the words of the peacemakers,
and we have yet to learn from the lessons of history –
we have yet to value people over profits,
the earth over corporate greed,
the most brutal capitalistic ‘measures’ over that which is good for all of us,
that which is good and fair and does not fling humanity into the rubbish heap of shredded dignity.
will twenty-nineteen be any different?
will we share more and hoard less?
will we give more and take less?
will we abandon the ever slithering of the metastasised notions of racial superiority,
will we eradicate the infectious sickness of religious fanaticism,
will we shake the foundations of economic systems that heap obscene wealth to the few, while discarding scraps to the many,
will we smash down the hetero-patriarchy, and with it the malignant misogyny that denies gender-rights, that promotes female-genital mutilation, that pays women far less than their male counterparts doing exactly the same work.
will twenty19 be any different at all?
perhaps, if only, with the simplest act –
of lending a hand to those who stumble,
of eradicating the need for children to have their stomachs rumble,
of together not letting each other fall:
of together,
standing tall …
from google
common fountain … …
in a world tugging,
pulling, drawing and quartering,
each soul apart,
and as mercy, humanity, love,
effortlessly, and resistance-free,
depart,
embracing ignorance, hugging credulous unreason,
fracturing 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 believe only then,
may we truly, as one,
from our common fountain feed …
i refuse …
to bow
scraping for scraps in the dirt
i refuse
to kneel
cowering before the altar
i refuse
to lose
hope for a better tomorrow
i refuse
to stop believing
that love will gently prevail
where mirth peace respect may again walk tall
in the very places
where once roamed nothing but sorrow …
“The Immigrants Void” – Sculpture by Bruno Catalano
http://brunocatalano.com/sculpture-bronze2/sculpture-en-bronze-bruno-catalano.php?galerie=1
migrant feet.
bleeding feet.
bare,
alien,
calloused feet,
that bleed,
trudging,
scraping souls,
seeking paths that lead,
somewhere,
anywhere from here,
from the horror of the now,
wiping bloody sweaty tears,
of grandmothers’ brow,
seeking refuge, sanctuary,
from bullets,
from epithets that wound,
that slay,
from men, always men,
puffed-up, inflated,
stuffed with raw venomous hate,
to be flotsam and jetsam,
adrift on the seas,
crammed into boxes,
clutching onto every choked breath,
seeking another fate,
not an asphyxiated blueish death,
tossed, seasick,
wracked and pained,
inside,
cattle-cars, slave-ships,
modernised mechanised terror,
the horror of self-righteous zeal,
nations, cultures,
tribes, traditions,
creed,
stoking the flames,
sectarian, communal,
the fuel on which bigotry must feed …
tiny feet, old and cracked,
all kinds of blistered twisted feet,
a death march along the treelined street,
seeking only alleyways of peace,
and,
perhaps,
perhaps, a bite to eat,
as gleaming chariots roll on by,
and if you’re thinking you’re safe,
if you’re thinking it isn’t us, its them,
him, her, they, those people,
for now,
think again,
and think how,
“… first they came for the communists … ” *
_____________
* Pastor Martin Niemoller
Jesus Christ” by Woody Guthrie …
Jesus Christ was a man who traveled through the land,
Hard working man and brave,
He said to the rich, “Give your goods to the poor.”,
So they laid Jesus Christ in his grave.
Jesus was a man, a carpenter by hand,
His followers true and brave,
One dirty little coward called Judas Iscariot,
Has laid Jesus Christ in his grave.
He went to the sick, he went to the poor,
And he went to the hungry and the lame;
Said that the poor would one day win this world,
And so they laid Jesus Christ in his grave,
He went to the preacher, he went to the sheriff,
Told them all the same;
Sell all of your jewelry and give it to the Poor,
But they laid Jesus Christ in his grave,
When Jesus came to town, the working folks around,
Believed what he did say;
The bankers and the preachers they nailed him on a cross,
And they laid Jesus Christ in his grave.
Poor working people, they follered him around,
Sung and shouted gay;
Cops and the soldiers, they nailed him in the air,
And they nailed Jesus Christ in his grave.
Well the people held their breath when they heard about his death,
And everybody wondered why;
It was the landlord and the soldiers that he hired,
That nailed Jesus Christ in the sky.
When the love of the poor shall one day turn to hate,
When the patience of the workers gives away,
“Would be better for you rich if you never had been born”,
So they laid Jesus Christ in his grave,
This song was written in New York City,
Of rich men, preachers and slaves,
Yes, if Jesus was to preach like he preached in Galillee,
They would lay Jesus Christ in his grave.
Merry Christmas to all friends!
though pummelled by cantankerous day,
embracing encroaching night,
the desolation lifts,
glimpsing a shimmer in the tunnel,
of hope’s eternal light … … …
Min your eyes #6
in your eyes, a maelstrom of emotion,
in your eyes, whirlpools of desire,
beckoning, inviting me to plunge, into the celestial waters,
of your eyes
in your eyes #5
whittling down reason, drawing out a rhyme,
searching for the truth,
hurtling through time,
in your eyes, i find my answer, my refuge from the incessant rain,
in your eyes, i sail upon the ocean, devoid of pain …
In your eyes #4
in your eyes, i see,
waters of turquoise,
pearls in the deep,
in your eyes, i drown,
swept by the currents,
banishing my sleep,
in your eyes, i feel,
a yearning for peace,
beyond the tears we weep …
In your Eyes #1.
1.
As another day recedes,
enveloped under the shawl of night,
allow me to drown,
in your eyes.
Moments fleeting,
fickle hands of time unseeing,
allow me to seek solace,
in your eyes.
The trodden path littered with each shard,
regrets this heart wishes to discard,
so allow me to seek refuge,
in your eyes.
i have walked through twisting boulevards of life,
seeking simple joy, away from desolation, strife,
so allow me to find peace,
in your eyes.
2.
In your eyes,
i find,
the gentleness left behind,
away from superficial smiles,
away from fatigue of the walked mile.
In your eyes,
i feel,
at home at long last,
your love caressing away the restlessness of the past,
stepping out of the shadows to embrace pure contentment,
though a bit player,
in your life’s theatrical cast.
In your eyes,
i touch,
the flame of promise radiating through your loving light,
that is why,
i no longer dread,
the vacuum of encroaching night …
May your embracing warmth,
be forever by your side,
may you walk the soft beaches of the fates, at the coming in of the tide.
May life shower you with love, laughter, truth, peace, health,
your spirit a wellspring of ceaseless wealth.
May your dreams be boundless soaring through hopeful skies,
the hopeful skies residing,
swirling, bubbling,
in your eyes …
in your eyes #3
in your eyes,
marmalade swirls,
candyfloss twirls,
draw me ever deeper,
as another day unfurls …
I was fractured, my mind in tatters, my thoughts asunder, raging with bellicose thunder, till you stilled my angst, my wayward selfwrath, you took me in, firm and with harsh love, you mended my soul, and I may not have thanked you, so belatedly, thank you for helping me back to being whole … …
caressing seductively swaying marmalade roses …
teasing stealthily approaching moonbeams,
the smell of you lingers,
on,
and on,
awake,
emotions a-wander,
thoughts of you, seduce soul,
mind, body, whole,
basking,
intoxicated,
transfixed,
warmed,
fanning embers of your furnace,
this ravenous fire,
this healing glow,
enveloping your being entire …
nonsensical raving …
dreaming of unfettered tomorrows, with no weight of the now bogging us down, no more plasticine smiles, stuck on fake faces, all worn to get through a single day. no more vacuum sealed desires, to be consumed within three days after opening, the sham of it all boldly apparent, mirroring our cardboard selves.
when does it end, this gold-plated facade, this charade of having it all, and having it all together, without cracks on the edges, as unnatural as neatly trimmed hedges.
where did we go so wrong, our vocal acquiescence to the shimmering glittering circus that breezed through town some day decades ago, promising gags whilst gagging us to what should be real, ripping out our souls as we gleefully smiled, inured to the amputation of feeling, draining us slowly as our very selves were left reeling.
and what of today, as we glide through aisles, trying on this or that face, being ever egged on to join the rat race, without which we are rendered impotent, as barren as the desert of hope, while we are still, perennially, expected and aspire to smile and to cope …
sapphire sky.
in the distance
flickering softly
warm hope
yawns
bathing this
soft morning
with
birdsong
whispering tales of journeys done
beneath the canopy
of
boundless
sapphire sky
a cry as another year beckons.
where hatred flows like raw sewage, where intolerance festers in fungal minds, where every ugly stripe of prejudice is on proud display,
may we all stand up and be heard, may we all rise up and be counted, may we all shed our cloak of apathy, may we all cease to be active participants in this grotesque play.
where vicious poverty tramples human dignity, where gnawing hunger leeches humanity, where human beings have been cast out of their lands, of their houses,
may we rattle the corridors of power, may we fight for equitable change, may we scream our outrage, may we forge the bonds of solidarity, may our collective voice be hushed no more, may we shake each other so that humane ideals from slumber rouses.
where violence is rained down on people of a different colour, of a different religion and creed, of a different caste, of a different sexual persuasion, of women everywhere every night, where the shadows of pain grow ever longer,
may our lips not remain sewn shut, may we remain complicit by silence never again, may we know we are more, and being more, we are all the stronger.
may we link arms across this pained world,
may we all see the banner of hope unfurled,
may we cease to look the other way,
may we strive for a more just day,
may we lose our petty differences, casting them into the sea,
may we reclaim our humanity, may we set our loving thoughts free,
may we always strive and struggle and battle for what is right,
may we never give in to despondency, may we not sink into the quicksand of feeling helpless, may we all arise and fight the good fight,
may we never forget the sacrifices of those who have passed, of those who have shed their blood, of those who made the supreme sacrifice so that we may today be here,
may we always honour their legacy, not in words and poems and songs, but to truly honour their lives and their scattered bones, by picking up their baton they so fiercely held, by raising their standard they so courageously held aloft, by getting our hands dirty as we rattle the 1% and their ostentatious thrones,
may we accept that the battles ahead may be long and hard, may we acknowledge that power never cedes, it’s metallic talons digging into our flesh so deep,
may we send them a message loud and clear, that nothing shall ever again dull our common resolve:
now.
today.
and in the tomorrows that yet to upon us creep,
may our message be clear:
we the people have awakened,
and we the people shall not be driven back to sleep.
all power to the people!
the struggles continue!
amandla!**
awethu!**
** – “Amandla – Awethu” means “Power to the People, and was a rallying slogan during the struggle against Apartheid.
whispers, seeking respite,
drifting away,
ablaze on a canvas of breathtaking smiles,
bidding adieu,
to the endless,
treacherous, manic miles,
strapped in,
closeted,
in the constant gurgling of the crowd,
cushioned,
buffering,
inuring the conscience,
far too placatory,
far less backbone,
while ego huffs and buffs,
loud brash and pompously proud,
so,
even though the open skies may be boundless,
clearly cloudless,
still,
the stubborn loyalty to gravity,
rooted, terra-firma,
choosing to weather the chaos of elemental fury,
accepting of the scars,
the blood not yet spilled,
the long cold humid icicle stormy battles of which there shall be more,
and that shall be fought,
reigniting a hope,
nourished, nurtured,
on the precipice of being realised,
not merely peripherally,
exalted, inflamed,
thud-thudding,
within,
my hearts core …
turquoise turret … … …
bubblegum clouds drizzle cotton-candy floss, blurring my view,
liquorice asphalt twists, a slow burn, igniting memories of she, ashenly charred, akin to her tresses auburn,
as i peer from atop my turquoise turret, all that lies between i and she,
are walls well secured,
surreptitious defences obscured …
the owl …
perched atop a tree stump,
it watches.
it sees.
seeing through ancient eyes,
it watches.
it sees.
shuffling its feathers,
it watches.
it sees.
its free skies stolen, its branches broken,
leaving just stumps to sit on,
having seen too much.
Masks …
Fingers,
clawing at my face,
slipping beneath the facade,
tugging, tearing, flailing,
stripping off the veneer,
exposing the fragmented decay,
cloaked,
under this mask I wear today.
Hands,
groping for another layer,
embroidered on my thin skin,
peeling, rotting, searing,
shaving away the truths,
entwined in a jagged kiss,
revealing,
the vacuum of an emotional abyss.
Fleeing,
from myself yet again,
bound for nothingness,
desolate, cold, empty,
lost on barren pathways,
bruising my heart as I tread,
shuddering,
at the horrors that lie ahead …
on saying farewell
tender words don’t sting, gentle words hardly stab, or jab,
you and i have walked the paths, together, sharing each other, the magic and the drab,
now though the time may have come to part, i respect you, for you have always been true, a woman of substance, through and through,
so as we weave and traverse the alleyways of life, looking perhaps for a fresh start,
let us be gentle, kind, tender, to each other, before we depart,
leaving behind memories that don’t tear, feelings that won’t scar,
memories of moments spent together, between the tears and smiles,
know this, i shall always carry within me, a part of you, however near or far ….
dreams.
simple dreams of us, not of riches, gaudy and plush,
dreams of the exquisite tingle of our lips brushing – of being swept away, imbibing that intoxicating rush –
dreams of soaking up our shared copper sun,
your silky hair bathing my face,
through whispering rivulets of streams, our haven, our secret place –
dreams of souls knit together, of yours, and of mine,
extricated from the numbness of this plastic pantomime –
dreams afloat on streams, on the ripples of our murmuring desire,
alive, inflamed,
forged in our cauldron of love, sensuous, fiery, never tamed –
simple dreams
sometime,
someplace …
your back to me, feeling my warm breath on your neck,
i part your luscious hair,
i kiss your neck without any care,
my fingers clasped with yours, you smell like parched earth after a rainshower, intoxicating, wild,
as i nibble your ear lobes, whispering sweet nothings in your ear,
feeling the desire rise, after many a year, we have at long last found ourselves together, here,
my mouth hungers for yours, our unleashed passion like a furnace roars,
i turn you around, my lips against yours, for this for me, is sacred ground,
our hands explore each other’s fiery bodies, after all these decades in between,
our tongues find each other, greedy, thirsty, lingering as i nibble your lower lip,
for we had fallen so long ago, there is not a care in the world if further we let slip,
soon we find ourselves together, entwined as one,
skin on skin,
flesh on flesh,
sweaty longing kept under wraps for far too long,
we give in to each other, our bodies one, our need for each other far too strong,
we sprinkle kisses on each other,
i lap and lick, my tongue swirling,
leaving you breathless, your pleasure peaking,
we ride the waves of sensations long pent-up,
we crest the waves of sensual release,
as your head lays on my chest, my fingers running through your hair,
finally,
we have surrendered to each other,
free, and without a care ….
awaiting her breathy murmur,
a voice lost in gnarled memories,
of less desolate nights.
awaiting her dusky whisper,
adrift on the breeze
of time,
thawing gnawing gloom.
awaiting her lucid memory,
surfacing, filling voids,
the crevasses of years passed,
stilling cacophony of banal din.
awaiting her deep kiss, when our souls fused into one,
for in all this world,
it is that kiss,
that i most miss
… 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,
raging desire,
thrashed against the cliffs,
of pitiless fate,
in-between the engulfing waves,
gulping for a breathful of you,
all of you,
irresistibly true …
desire, trepidation, and hunger …
sprinkling cinnamon caresses, scribbling odes,
etching my words on your bare back,
desire inflames, engulfs flesh and blood and bone,
dispelling all trepidation,
the sin of hungering,
in a sweltering furnace of longing,
scribbling odes,
fingers meandering across your body,
desire, trepidation, and hunger,
fleeting, momentary,
yet abiding, infused,
relentless,
welcome.
Cricket, The Beatles, and You …
I remember those scorching summer days, on the bus home from school,
as exhausted as I was, when I walked past you, I tried to look so cool.
You sat on the steps to your block of flats, engrossed in your book,
hardly noticing me at all, while my heart thud-thudded and my legs like jelly shook.
I remember every night as I lay in bed awaiting sleep,
you swirled in my mind, your silence a well which was so unfathomable, so very deep.
The sweaty days of summer didn’t deter us at all, flinging our school bags and racing to the park,
cricket bat in hand and thoughts of you reading you book, simmering within me, an undousable spark.
The friends were always waiting, setting up the cricket field, stumps in the ground,
while I took my position as fielder on the boundary, to keep stealing glances at you as the park erupted into cricket’s familiar sound,
the crack of leather on bat, the ball racing for a four,
always trying to loft a six, for the ball to come to a rest at the steps of your door.
My friend loved your cousin across the street, and I loved you dearly as teenagers do, so we hatched plans to speak, him to your cousin, and I to you.
After the cricket and when most friends drifted away, my best friend and I sat underneath our tree,
strategically chosen so that he may catch a glimpse of your cousin, and I of thee.
We sang Beatles’ songs until we were hoarse,
belting out ‘All my Loving’ repeatedly of course.
My friend and I sat under that tree for years, our love an unrequited ache,
as we whistled ‘Careless Whispers’ meant just for your sake.
We often day dreamed of futures of love and joy,
while the hearts in our chests thud-thudded on, the simple love of a besotted boy.
Well the years passed as they always do,
I still managed to never say a word to you,
my friend as well remained silent as a church mouse,
as time took its toll, and as we drifted away to other cities, moving so many a house.
We often reminisce about those carefree days, when life was so much more innocent, when cricket and you consumed my world,
while through the years the ravages of time have dimmed that spirit, as the reality of true life before us unfurled.
So it was a thrilling moment for my friend and I, as we arranged to meet,
all grown up now, but back in the old neighbourhood, the first to arrive would sit under our tree on our old street.
We met at last, our bellies a bit heavier now, our hair greying with age,
as we sat down beneath our tree, just the two of us, back on our centre stage.
We sang old Beatles’ songs and we whistled ‘Careless Whispers’, thinking about all that could have been,
of how life tamed our wild hearts, of how nothing resembled the nostalgic shades through which we had those olden days seen.
We talked and laughed as evening crawled by, our hearts heavy with emotions of days gone by,
even as we bid our farewells, and promised to keep in touch, we hugged as felt time fly.
Yet as I walked passed those steps where you used to decades ago sit, engrossed in your book,
I must admit, my heart thud-thudded, and my feet like jelly, once again, shook.
all images from google
Friday at Dusk.
Blanketed by charcoal clouds,
this evening brings respite,
banishing the heat,
with the promise of a cool fresh breeze,
offering consolation,
to me, and hopefully to the many weary,
soothing this day’s strains,
shedding the weight, of all that is dreary.
freeversing the blues …
tears trickle down far too many a cheek,
while bigotry and hate like raw sewage reek,
down these cellophane faces in plastic towns,
while hope in the well of misery drowns.
the fractured spirits never seem to mend,
even when swallowing the latest trend,
gagging at the emptiness of last week’s buys,
desperately polishing facades while the barren heart cries.
we crawl as we trawl the roads for joy,
spitting yesterdays away like some overused toy,
fleeting moments never savoured whatever the ploy,
we become the enemies we seek to destroy.
why do we slam the doors shut on faces hungry and needy,
don’t we already have it all for us to be so callously greedy,
while we suck the blood and drink the tears of the ones we chase away,
condemning them to ghettoes in which they absolutely must stay.
when will we excise the demons on which apathy feeds,
will we ever kill off sweatshops serving our wants and not our needs,
will we ever stop putting guns in children’s hands,
will we perpetuate the lie of where the tomahawk missile really lands.
what grotesque metamorphosis have we been subjected to,
where we whistle down corridors oblivious, blinded to all that is true,
throttling the many for the benefit of the few,
all the while supping on heaving tables as if we don’t have a clue.
will we continue to feign ignorance of marital, partner, and child sexual abuse,
discarding each fractured soul as if they were stale news,
blindly turning our heads and thusly perpetuating male hetero-patriarchy,
keeping the blinkers on, while banishing the sordid truth we pretend not to see.
when will people of colour all around the world be seen, as human beings and not merely chattel,
as people, as a part of humanity, and not as some half-bred form of vassal,
to be used and discarded like stale garbage that needs to be trashed,
while on single malt whisky we gleefully get smashed …
… and when will all the world share in the bounties of this earth,
so that we may truly bring a more equitable, a more fair, a more just world to birth …
quote from google
My loveliness waits,
through decades of lost haste,
through trials and grief,
peaceful days and dire straits,
my loveliness waits.
I wait,
through decades past,
for kisses meant to last,
i wait,
to hold my loveliness,
in these lonesome arms,
i wait,
transcending lust,
overcoming desire,
i wait,
to be burnt to ash,
in the furnace of her raging fire …
art from google
unashamed love …
tongue-tied,
you said i was a lush,
intoxicated by you was i,
but instead i lied,
calling you my pineapple crush,
when all along i was afflicted, addicted,
with nowhere left to hide, adrift in the swirling sea of your love, and though,
time flies,
i still feel that rush,
gazing into the ocean of your eyes,
reducing me still,
today,
into an unabashed lush,
so forgive me this scribble,
this ode to you,
and all this unashamed mush …
“Petals of love” by Marisa R Ng – Artwork from Google
may soft petals caress your being …
… may gentle shoulders share your burdens.
may warm sunshine reach the innermost recesses of your thud-thudding heart
may these words
offer
solace
comfort
when hope
seems vacant
an empty space
hollow
cold
yet safe
in moments like those
is when
i
hope
you
know
there’s always the promise of a less harsh tomorrow …
“Petite Petals V” by Konstantin Savchenko – Artwork from Google
lying together,
enveloped in each others arms,
we swore oaths to the stars and the years yet to unfold,
lying together …
desolation in love.
these empty seances, this void of nothingness,
are we in love?
these hollow emotions, this vacuum of feelings,
are we lost?
lost in the spaces where emptiness thrives,
lost in the crannies where desolation lies,
lost in the alleyways where barren souls stagger,
lost in the moments where numbness lives,
lost amongst it all,
lost in everything,
except being lost in love …
We are one Race = Human …
1.
The bigots on all sides try to inflame our petty egos,
to inflate our hollow pride,
bigots on all sides try to abuse our beliefs,
so blinded by our puffed-up arrogance –
“my country right or wrong”,
“my religion and never yours”,
“the colour of my skin and not yours”.
Politicians on all sides try to divide us,
their narrow ambitions riding on our emotions,
trying to pollute all that can, if unquestioningly followed, tear us apart:
nationality,
language,
religion,
gender,
tribe,
race,
sect,
drumming up fear, always fear,
of my fear of you,
of your fear of them,
of our fear of them all.
Their hypocrisy is stark,
as jarring as a rabid dog’s wailing bark,
their intentions far from noble,
their hope is to keep us all, shivering with trepidation,
in the dungeon of racist,
nationalistic,
sectarian,
religious,
casteist,
notions of superiority,
as we throw punches,
as we hurl abuse,
at each other in this purposely infected dark.
The clergy on all sides as well, want us huddled in fear in the deep suffocating well,
of carefully crafted sectarian hate, of artificial religious walls,
of dogma and of semantics, of only picking each other up,
if they are one of “us”,
but never if one of “them” slips,
and falls.
We have danced to these toxic tunes for far too long,
we have served their diseased interests for ages,
dictating who can belong,
allowing the blood in our veins,
to be boiled as it ceases to flow,
and simply rages.
The monsters of Capital and of greed,
have kept us all in line, shackled by the fictitious belief,
that trickle down wealth will bring us all some relief,
while amassing fortunes and sending the young to war,
for their invasions of plunder, of opening up new markets,
even as the gravely wounded soldier knocks on death’s door.
2.
No more!
The future is ours and it will be built with our bare hands, though not as before,
because we stand today as one race,
the human race,
we stand together today,
and their batons and bullets we are prepared to face!
No more!
The times ahead are ours, and the furnace of meaningful change burns bright in our collective core,
for we stand today as one race,
the human race,
we stand together today,
to banish the old and build a new world in its place!
No more!
The years ahead shall be filled with trials and tribulations, but we will let the light shine as we open every locked door,
for we stand today as one race,
the human race,
we stand together today,
and we shall reclaim our commons, our wide open shared space!
No more!
Tomorrow the healing will begin, of countless a festering sore,
for we stand today as one race,
the human race.
We stand together today,
we stand firm and we stand tall,
firm in our convictions that we will always lend our hands to all,
to never again, to never let, another human being break down and fall
the rose and the dew
soothing dew of the dawn, teases the rose in the mist of new morn,
nourishing the rose, encased in a dewy sheath, drops of soothing dew tease tendrils of each leaf,
soothing flowers, the dew banishes the night, in soft hues of exquisite early light:
you are the dew to my solitary leaf, seducing my soul with loving belief,
and I, I revel in the balm of your solace, shunning the pain of this world, with welcome relief … … …
The Traveller and the Baobab Tree …
1.
A summer breeze,
drifts down lonesome pathways and byways and alleyways,
touching worlds,
torn apart.
The breeze engulfs,
a pristine sky of blue,
while,
scattering the murmuring clouds,
that blanket the blazing African heavens,
in swirls and immaculate shrouds.
2.
A passing shower,
of gentle misty rain,
settles,
on freshly scented-earth.
It soothes,
it caresses,
the exhausted thoughts,
of,
a weary traveller,
who sits,
alone, all alone,
under a Baobab tree.
3.
The traveller walks alone,
at peace with the fragrant soil,
collecting memories of smiles embraced along the way.
4.
Finally, the wandering soul,
seeks rest,
finding peace at last,
yet,
knowing its price,
is to let go –
each memory,
and every smile,
that once burned true,
but now,
awaits release,
from the ache of the lingering past.
jacaranda street …
breaths drawn,
echo across fields of green …
a plaintive song,
teasing the grass,
paths once walked,
hand in hand,
now burning highways,
of cold stone, dead concrete,
yearning for bygone days,
walking, together,
on your jacaranda carpeted street …
tangerine kisses …
tangerine kisses, beneath marshmallow skies,
ignite the kindling, the tinder,
crackling, inflamed, ablaze,
hushing cacophonous day, scattering night’s haze …
with apologies to rumi …
1.
nothing splinters so painfully, as the heart that feels too much.
2.
we are nothing if we are not something to somebody.
3.
what good is the beauty of this world if our eyes are clouded by tears.
4.
the air passing through the flute seeks nothing, yet invisibly, obliviously, creates music.
5.
the waves that wash ashore cleanse the muddied seas, while cleansing muddied feet.
6.
the blood runs unendingly through our veins, to comfort us when we need to be still.
7.
the river of life achingly reaches for the vast sea, even as the traveller yearns to be peacefully rooted.
8.
the tears that flow cloud eyes, shielding us from what is painful to see.
9.
the pristine dew that nourishes the flower forms in the dark, while we curse the darkness of night.
10.
the weeping willow pines for for water, as life streams ever on.
the road …
how far does this road go, this path of life, these alleyways, these avenues woven as days, weeks, months and years crumble,
leaving us, at times upright, at times staggering as we waywardly stumble.
where does this road lead to, scrambling over boulders of pained time, helplessly flailing across the unknown distance still to be tread,
looking ahead, with no map, no sense of hope nor dread, yet oblivious to the many needles of passageways yet to be thread.
when does this journey of splintered hearts and fractured souls end, with us healing many times over, scrambling around at times in the dark, knowing not what lies beyond the next bend.
whom do we choose to venture along these boulevards, hand in hand, who are the fortunate ones who have another to hold, to gaze at sunsets, as together they lovingly stand.
why do i feel stranded, as if washed up on a desolate beach, walking amongst the throng, yet with that deeper connection always just out of reach.
why do i lose myself in the cacophonous crowd, my words dissipating in the wind, my verses becoming my only shroud.
why do i walk away when joy and peace and love is within my grasp, when our fingers are entwined, when onto hope we firmly clasp.
these questions billow through the misty haze of moments that slip away, in-between honeydew kisses, smouldering in the cauldron of desire, fleeting smiles turned to ashes by the indiscriminate fire.
these questions jabbing at the core, immersed in rivulets of tears, seeking answers about this entire parade, is it all real, or is it merely a meaningless charade.
the questions come thick and fast, assaulting the senses as one tries to make sense, of love lost, of wounds still raw, of pain, of sorrow, and of seemingly unending strife.
the answer appears, blanketing the sun, cloaking the moon, an answer so simple, yet with profundity rife.
the answer:
this is life.
“I wish I had met you earlier“, I told her one day.
“Why?“, she asked.
“I don’t know“, I said, “though I feel we should have met when we were younger, with none of the ties that now bind us, forever apart, and when the future was but a fresh page“.
“A fresh page?”, she asked.
“A fresh page, a blank slate, for who knows what could have been“, I replied, “Yes, and perhaps our destiny would have been a shared one“, I ventured further, “a blank slate, yes, where we might have been woven together, by the hands of fate“.
“I wish we could have met earlier, I still say …
A Love so Pure …
these feelings, these emotions,
are but dandelion seeds,
adrift in the forests, swirling amongst the reeds.
this overwhelming love, this deep passion, this aching for you,
are but a yearning for something honest in a world so untrue.
these moments we spend, though we are apart, feel more real than the all the loves that have passed me by,
for it is with you, that I feel a sacred bond, a thread knotting us as one underneath the vast and glorious sky.
this thirst that ravages me, this hunger that savages me, this aching need that is felt deep within,
transcends all boundaries, deep inside the soul, beyond the superficial beauty that is merely a veneer, a skin.
these moments spent apart may feel like millennia ever so slowly hobbling along,
but what comes easily in this cruel world, let alone a confluence of souls fused together so strong.
this pain, this feeling of isolation, these pangs of longing,
cut deep, for how often does one feel such a soaring feeling of belonging.
these days, the moments, these weeks and months and years tiptoeing past us, slowing down time like never before,
feel like an eternity, but when have we felt this way before,
stricken by a love that scorches us to our very core.
who knows, we may never meet in this world of high walls, who knows the machinations of fate, who knows that we may have to silently this love endure,
but we can, and we should, and we must, take beautiful solace,
that we have been so blessed to have touched each other,
with a love so pristine,
a love so eternally pure.
lost and found.
1.
i was lost,
scrambling for scraps of love, of life,
desolate, empty, my heart seemed destined to ceaseless strife,
lost in between murmured promises and yearning for gay abandoned flight,
cast aside in the deep dark of night.
2.
you found me strewn across festering boulevards, you picked me up as i lay broken,
your love breathed life into my deadened soul, after all the trite words were casually spoken,
your essence, your being, lifted me, my heart once more in free joyous flight,
you found me, you saved me from myself, you ushered in spring days, after so many a corrosive night,
you found me …
the shackles of time …
i wish we could wish away these years,
my aching for you, consigned to an ocean of tears,
the thoughts of you, swirling in a cauldron, the heat my very soul sears.
my mind awash with what-could-have-beens,
if only time had been kinder, a decade here, a decade there,
seems so easy to write, but strangles my being with a noose bound tight.
time, they say, the great leveller of all,
embossed on its canvas the fate of so many,
whom destiny chose to rise, and those it deemed to fall.
my fate and yours seem like parallel lines, for though i feel you, close and dear,
we shall not meet, or so i fear,
for though i have swooned at the glimpse of your smile,
time’s sense of humour, thrashes this heart that beats for you, against the cliffs, drowning in a sea of blue.
i often ask, why this torturous game of chance, why this savage lonesome dance,
why these fleeting moments, why is time so arbitrarily unkind,
when there is a palpable meeting, of heart, of soul, of body of mind.
i yearn for your touch, i burn relentlessly, for a touch of our lips,
to feel your sweet breath, to savour our phantom kiss, a dreamy luxury i have been condemned to forever miss.
time, that ever present deceiver, flung me to cross your path, where a smouldering fire was set ablaze, within me,
doomed to never fall into each other’s arms, merely acknowledging the impossible, while scattering the ground around you with enticing charms.
this ache, this ceaseless pounding of my senses, at times a silly charade does seem,
for there are many temptations on my side of the stream,
yet this feeling will not relent, it shall not dim,
dancing to the tune of time’s inescapable whim.
if only for a while, were it possible to breach this maelstrom of time and of fate, if only i could step across the impassable threshold that keeps us apart,
a lifetime i could live in those moments few and true, to taste your mouth as i have so often dreamt, to have your hair fall over my face as i imbibe the smell of all of you.
these are cobbled words, scribbled here and there, certainly not a poem for which anyone should care,
yet these emotions are real, this yearning ache, this all-consuming desire for what-could-have-been,
torches my being entire, stranded on my island, neither here not there,
but what of these permutations does time even care,
and all i am able to do, is to lay out my heart for you, still hoping against hope that some time we may be able to share,
all the while embracing these dreamscapey emotions,
that are ever so rare …
For Dr Maya Angelou
(April 4 1928 – May 28 2014)
Vanquished by the day one may be,
Beaten down by the barren night.
Faltering at times,
at times upright.
Still one stands.
One still fights.
For though one falls,
One must rise*
___________________
*this poem was inspired by the poem ‘Still I Rise’ by Maya Angelou
weighed down …
weighed down, bound by the travails of this life,
at times desolate,
at times with seemingly no respite.
the sunken talons of the drudgery of the days, clawing deeply, shackle each breath taken, wresting joy away.
the fierce mauling of time, swatting dreams once dreamed, left to fester in the chords of the unfinished song.
still we trudge, still we stand upright, still we scribble odes for tomorrow, still we somehow cope, still we carry our drained bodies, still we persist, still we somehow hope …
when will i see your smile,
near me,
feeling your warm breath against mine,
when will i feel your touch,
beside me,
peppering your kisses with saffron whispers,
when will i hear you,
your lips against mine,
cajoling me, again,
to wait,
just
a little
longer,
while i whisper back,
knowing the hunger,
to remain stronger,
painting on the smile,
of the mirthful dream-monger,
while keeping at bay,
the raging cauldron
ablaze,
within my being entire,
sizzling, scorching me to the marrow,
the unsaid charade,
theatre for the conscience,
played out,
and in,
just beneath the veneer,
of dreams,
of you,
cascading through,
seducing the fabric of our shared time,
so clear,
crytallised, pristine,
delicate,
yet, yet,
steely,
and
sheer …
Scribbled Verse 
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