memories of her … … …

yesteryear … … …

memory slips,
                        slides,
cascades,
                 through the blurred veil of time,
        sifting through memories,

of you,
            your loveliness ablaze,

sweeping across meadows,
                  my stranded heart still in flames,
                 the furnace burning bright,
                          raging in the darkness of this night,
                  coaxing nostalgic yearning,

over years left behind,
             between thoughts of kisses entwined,
                
                 and still,
                 and yet,

this heart may never forget,
           the caress of your voice,

breezing between today,
           last week,

all the drifting yesteryears,
                     lost in your deepest eyes,

even as days turn to night,

even as time continually flies,

scattering pieces of my soul,
              hither and thither,
             knowing it may never be, again,
whole,
           ah! but the memories persist,
as summer begins to wither,
            you are all i remember you to be,

between the wild rose,
        amidst the thorns,

bathed in dawn’s dew,

I live,
        I breathe,
                        I savour,

the sweetest thoughts,

of you, only you … … …
           

silly scribbles … … …

what is home to the vagabond soul,
                   spiralling,
                   splintering,

                   skewered,
                   unwhole,

plodding along
                 paths of
              broken glass,

comforting,
                   cajoling,
                   assuring
             my tattered soul:

these desolate moments
               
                  must

                  also
           
                  pass … … …

U N T I T L E D

on the cusp.

trawling turquoise seas,
cast adrift,
                   your eyes caressing fitful slumber,
                        whispering paens,
           soothing the ache,

of this weary traveller,
parched,
               thirsty,
                            alone,

cresting waves,
                           treading water,
             hither and thither,

a tattered heart,
                             a wounded soul,
        bathing my being,
                                      nestling,
       in cocooned dreams of your honeydew lips,

seeing,
            feeling,
                         tasting,
                                      your breath,

soaked in visions of you,

the mirage,
                    a crescendo fanning flames of desire,
                                            of love, lust, tremulous fingers,

brushing your hair away,
sipping kisses,

consumed by the furnace,
your body, mine,
                                    entwined,

hungering for your tongue,
fiery,
         insistent,
                         true,

soaring above vagabond skies of blue,
             unshackled at last,

             craving only you …

The African Rains

uBuntu - the philosophy of the interconnectedness of humanity

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.

The Valiant Ones

Published in A&U Magazine, May 2013

They left so abruptly,
the valiant ones.

Countless,
many known,
many more nameless.

The truest sons and singers,
husbands and poets,
lovers and wives,
daughters and farmers,
workers and sisters,
brothers and friends.

They left so abruptly,
with quiet pride,
a steely courage,

and a gentle dignity.

They left so abruptly,
leaving us our tomorrows,

brighter!
Hopeful!

filled with promise.

They left so abruptly,
so that we may breathe,

the breath of liberty!

The air of freedom!

The warmth of justice!

They left so abruptly,
leaving with us their parting gift …

freedom!
inkululeko!
swatantrata!
liberte!
azadi!
vhudilangi!
libertad!
esteghlal!

They left so abruptly,
yet we remember them all today,

and in the days to come,
their legacy will light our way!

They left so abruptly,
yet they remain!

Hewn into our memory and conscience,
engraved in our heart!

They left so abruptly,
and yet they endure,

with us,
within us,

now and forever more!

u n t i t l e d

running,
                   in flight,
                                  bracing the currents,
                       thrashed against the cliffs,
                of jagged fate,

broken-in, kneaded into acquiescence,

worn-down,
                     stretched-thin,
soon-to-be yesterdays trash,

dumped,
               strewn in the muck,

filling landfills of destinys rubbish bin,

bashed by chaotic waves,
headed for,
                   primed,

course set,
                   for yet,

another controlled crash.
                                         
         

talkin’ the-show-must-go-on an’ burnin’ building fireworks blues …

watching the building ablaze,
the smoke and flames,

live on tv,

hearing the accounts,
of people fleeing for their lives,

when slowly,
the televised footage split into two split-screens within screen,

or maybe it happened in an instant:

on the left-side – the building on fire, anchors and guests talking about how this could have happened etc.

and on the right-side – the viewers are informed that the new years eve dubai fireworks display will go ahead etc.

and then it happened,

the countdown began,

5 … 4 …

and by now the entire television screen showed a sailboat building burst into a fireworks extravaganza that may have lasted 25 minutes,

more or less,

while the building ablaze,
just over the bay,

burned away.

and the cheering was audible,
the gasps and oohs and aahs,

and I was dumbfounded.
and no one was saying a thing,

and I felt I had finally,
lost all sense,

i must be mad, i thought.
you are, a voice replied.

all because this did not make sense. at all.

normally suchlike razzmatazz pomp & extravaganza,

and people fleeing burning buildings,

hardly ever meet.

and now, they collided,

making it stark to mad me,

that just as the old saying goes,

the show must go on.

and,
furthermore,
perhaps more ominously,

the show will go on,

to put that magic sparkle into a million waiting eyes,

no matter who fries.

      ________________

pic courtesy: http://www.johncoulthart.com

on repetition: new years day

on repetition: new years day …

the years have chased,
cajoled,
time has a-rambled & a-rolled,
just another year,
where loves’ wares,

love, the commodity,
and us, all of us,
mere commodities,
traded as futures,

hastily stitching gaping wounds, with superficially strong sutures,

add some smiles bought and sold,
dignity bartered,
amalgamated, merged, lost & battered,

thin skins moulting,
spawning breathing thicker skins,

just another year,
same dreams to be shattered,

no bleating hip-hip-hoorays,
just the ever-fixed smile,

bright teeth bared as hands morph into machetes, hacking,
gleefully as the beast slays,

and while some burn, the fireworks elicit oohs, many an aah,

with kafka in the shadows, shaking his head,
this is farce gone too far,

to dampen the collective hope,

not more crumbled platitudes,
meant only to soothe, to apply the balm, to help the other half cope,

with what,

just another year,
reborn, the umbilical cord cut,

just another year,
working, eating, buying, buying,

as we scamper ever on,
with our eyes sewn tightly shut

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 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

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 🎼

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 …

uBuntu

uBuntu …

every spent shell
ever silenced
emptied

lost to the tide

shares the desolation

of
each leaf

of
every tree

that ever fell …

as still as innocence

when im broken
torn

with
all my conceit

neatly
shorn

perhaps
then he’ll know

the hopes stifled
muted

hushed shushed

though still
as still as innocence

reborn

hopeful thoughts aka ‘pompous thoughts’

hopeful thoughts

(also known as ‘pompous thoughts’)

deafening
howls of hate
may
yet
be

quelled

simply
by

knowing
believing
fairly
justly

collectively

that
you

me

him

she

her

they

us

yes us
may still

share
a
kinder
gentler fate

but only if
i

you

her

they

him

us
yes us

begin
anew

and then

when peace is what we all shall wage

we may then

and only then

begin to scribble afresh

new
dreams
aspirations
hopes

collectively

on

a

new
fresh page.