The Whispering Leaf …

The Whispering Leaf …

1.

Infinite tendrils,
weave exquisite meanders,

sketching an immaculate, delicate sheaf,

while morning’s dew whispers,

tales of forgotten woes, of vanished yesterdays,

scribbled on the solitary leaf.

2.

Murmurs float gently across lonesome trees,

in distant forests lush and dense,

caressing waltzing grasses in a sensual dance,

coquettishly inflaming every sense.

3.

Listen!

For the murmurs whisper to us all,

listen intently,

as the whispers recall,

countless crushed memories of many a lovers call …

Listen!

For the whispering leaf shares,

tales traversing distances,

to you, to me,
if we only still our raucous minds,

gazing upon each leaf,

dispelling the mirage of the superficial lives we lead,

revealing to us the truths that lie just beneath.

Dr. Martin Luther King Jr.

Dr. Martin Luther King Jr.

(January 15 1929 – April 4 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 …

The Stench of Prejudice …

“Usilethela Uxolo” – “Nelson Mandela Brings Us Peace” by Stompie Mavi from the documentary “Amandla!: A Revolution in Four-Part Harmony” by Lee Hirsch

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“Amandla!: A Revolution in Four-Part Harmony”

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from google

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The Stench of Prejudice …

… When silent prejudice strikes,

in living rooms with plumped-up sofas,

a quietly insidious venom begins to seep,

into the consciousness of the chattering ones as they sleep …

… The beliefs held so true and so deep,

are stripped of all feeling,

empty and hollow and without compassion,

as the conceit grows in the chests of those with righteous passion …

… The prejudice once firmly entrenched,

is worn like a warm and comforting shawl,

needing precious little to compound and to mutate,

into the doctrines of superiority, racism, misogyny, gay-bashing,

and of intoxicating hate …

… We are all guilty of succumbing to this silent pervasive plague,

as we sip martinis and laugh and shovel more food on our heaving plates,

as we slip into pleasantly inebriated moments we dare not care,

to smell the stench of hate and of prejudice and of greed wafting in the cool evening air …

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“Stimela” – “Coal Train” by Hugh Masekela – from the documentary “Amandla!: A Revolution in Four-Part Harmony”

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from google

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The Markets Are Down 2%

art by banksy

Banish the hubris,
Toss away the choice words
Spoken by rotten, broken tongues.
Silence the chorus of appalled shock.

Shred the sermons,
Burn down the gory edifices:
The churches, mosques, temples
And the muted Gods they mock.

Drain the sewage.
Flush away the insidious odour
Seeping up from malls, homes, carnivals.
Put it in a closet and weld the key in the lock.

Shut it all off.
Turn out the lights.
Pull the damned plug.
But hold on to that blue-chip stock.

art by banksy

“Little Boxes” – sung by Pete Seeger. Lyrics by Malvina Reynolds

youtube.com/watch

Wearing Masks …

Billie Holiday – Strange Fruit

from google

wearing masks,

shrouding each mood …

… facades

gnawing at raw wounds.

 

wearing masks,

veiling each feeling …

 

… charades

snapping at open sores.

 

wearing masks,

mimicking the other …

 

… masked facades,

veiled charades,

shrouded screens,

masquerading as truth.

 

Truth lies in wait,

beneath the mask,

under the veil,

behind the screen,

through the shroud …

… truth lies in wait,

 

and waits …

waiting.

“Billie Holiday” by banksy

Billie Holiday – Strange Fruit