Tag Archive: carpe diem


Artwork by Banksy




life, injustice, and a clean 

shirt …





we are entangled in the bog, as we sweat, as we slog.



the crumbs we receive, with fanfare do deceive.



the 1% whip up emotions of hate, as they remain buffered in their ostentatious state.



we the people are confined to sweatshops, grinding away, for 18 hours a day.



they dock our pay if we dare fall ill, sewing our tongues shut so we may not talk, as long as their designer labels get paraded on the catwalk.



we have been subjected to this and we may never leave, as our mothers and fathers before us, into whom the talons of greed did gnaw and cleave.



they stoke our passions, of race, gender, religion, to whip up hate, blinding us so we may not see that we all share the same fate.



we are stuffed into offices, while they withhold our pay, while they strangle us until we bleed, our families discarded, for who are we to breathe and to feed.



we are expected to endure this hell, of indignity, of injustice, of tattered souls, of inexpressible hurt,


as we are repeatedly kicked down into the dirt.



but the news tells us that all is well,


the stock-markets are rallying,


the market robust as their coffers continue to swell,


as their billboards entice us with that haute couture pair of jeans, that impossibly expensive skirt,


just so that we clock in,


day in and decade out,


in a crisp clean shirt …





Artwork from Google

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Artwork from Google




what is love for me?



Love is your head laying on my chest, beneath a swaying palm, love is the solace we offer each as a soothing healing balm.



Love is not swallowing what society wishes to us feed, love is wanting each other and not the illusions of material greed.


Love is knowing that the skin will age and wrinkle, love is knowing that the celestial star of togetherness will never cease to twinkle.


Love is knowing there exists no pristine hearts or souls, for we are all so very far from commercialised perfection, love is acknowledging that always, and in our moments of quiet reflection.


Love is truly and deeply loving each other, warts and all, love is kneeling down to lift each other up whenever we slip, whenever we fall.


Love is never thrusting ones beliefs unto each other, love is appreciating and embracing the differences between one another.


Love is not being constrained by race, religion, nationality, caste or tribe, love is knowing we all bleed red, and from a common fountain we all do life’ waters imbibe.


Love is honestly being content with what we have to share, love is never allowing the rat-race to us ensnare.


Love is not merely oaths taken, vows spoken, love is living and tending for each other when one of us feels lost and if one of us is torn, or broken.


Love is so much more than kisses and making love, though that is always oh-so good, love is nourishing each other with the truest emotions, the bounty of soul-food.


Love is having differences of opinion, of engaging in robust debate, love is not just agreeing with everything we say, love is not living in that sterile state.


Love is taking a stand, in this iniquitous world, love is speaking truth to power, love is never ever merely accepting it all, love is not us shielding ourselves so that in inured inaction we cower.



Love is your head laying on my chest, beneath a swaying palm, love is the solace we offer each as a soothing healing balm …



Artwork from Google

The Rivers of a Life

Art from Google



The Rivers of a Life …





Bracing for the rapids ahead, clutching onto filaments where salty tears sting the places we have bled.



Hold on!



The rapids will stutter to a meandering stream, our brittle souls heaving sighs of relief as a glimpse of hope waltzes on a sunbeam.



Hold on tight!



The stream opens itself up, slipping into the wide waters of the river at peace, soothing our beings, the stabbing pain now beginning to cease.



Let go!



The mouth of the river yawns as it approaches the endless expanse of the sea, hushing us, stilled by knowing we are but an infinitesimal part of what we thought we could be.



Free at last!



beyond us the unseen future, right now we soak in the truths of the present,


behind us we leave the detritus of the past.




Artwork from Google



alone, together



Baobab Tree artwork from Google




alone, together …





The rays of the summer sun peek between the canopy of green above,


we walk hand in hand through the thicket searching for our sensual place of love,


a small pond and a gentle waterfall comes into view,


as we abandon all shrouds and wade into the soothing waters of blue.




Our bodies intertwine, flesh on bare flesh,


skin against skin, light years away from the city’s raucous din,


as we share light kisses, enmeshed in each others arms so close, so very tight,


while we float in the lyrical waters, eyes closed as all we need are tender caresses so exquisitely light.




We taste each other, sipping the nectar of passion with a desire that we need no longer restrain,


with the orchestral sounds of the jungle, swirling in their symphonic refrain,


our lips meet, we feel the thud-thudding of our hearts merging,


in harmony with the sublime feelings so wildly surging.




We whisper odes, we imbibe our hungering need,


as the meandering waters envelope us in their calming sheath,


we tenderly become one, restraining for now our insatiable greed,


and as our bodies writhe, we feel our shuddering deep inside, a quivering dewy leaf.




The sun slowly dips and swoons, we wish we could share these precious moments for many more moons,


but alas, the here and now calls out, drawing us out of this magical reverie,


as we find each other back amidst the cacophony of real life,


where we pine,

where we ache,

where we wish only,


to be together,


free …





Artwork from Google








True Detective Season 1



( for ‘True Detective’ Season 1 fans )


for rust & marty …


you see there may come a time when all of what we yearn and ache and pine and lie and cheat and kill and maim and hurt to attain may turn out to be as worthless as the lives we hurt and took and raped and pillaged and tortured and slapped and abused and molested and plundered and then we shall be seen for that what we all essentially are:

sentient meat. no more. no less.

               ________________



rustin’ away …



swept along tugged by the currents that weave cobwebbed chaos hurling us tossing our malleable forms further into the poisoned seas as tide after merciless tide batters and shatters our mortality thrusting us deeper into the bowels of asphyxiating numbness and dumbness that has numbed down and dumbed us even more so because we need the charade to persist for our egos will and shall not whittle away as flesh decays and in that sliver of the blink of an eye is the hysterical maniacal orderly randomness of it all in its naturally-selected symmetry of nothingness because how am i supposed to wake up tomorrow or next weekend if not for some hardwired tripswitch that shuts all critical thought albeit for an instant but in that instant and in each of those instances the ego keeps on cashing in on deluded overtime and we you her him i us yes us all don’t even know that its happening all the time and that it has happened since the manufacturing of the illusion of time and that it is happening right now to me and perhaps to you too yeah hmm …



and …



channeling rustin cohle …



yeah so okay it’s all just horseshit this damn grinder of souls enmeshed in sordid dreams of twisted consciences lost along the highway of shovelled lies spawned by the inebriated copulation of the gelatinous whole this whole hysterical theatre of bits and bites of neurons sparking all just electricity just plain damn old electricity seeding grief sorrow pain loss ache death life hiroshima where the living envied the dead yes that place this place still this place that exists as large as castles in our collective so called human minds collectively speaking of course but also force-fed the illusion of individual choice … 


        __________


Life’s barely long enough to get good at one thing. So be careful what you get good at” – Rustin Cohle (True Detective)



True Detective Season One

The truth of our Love

Artwork from Google




The truth of our Love …



1.




True love rests upon countless whispering leaves,


one by one falling to the ground,


the truest love is carried on dandelion seeds,


fluttering within hearts here, there, and all around. 




True love that settles and binds two souls,


intertwines emotions, with a comforting tenderness so rare,


as we trudge on, having long shed the expectations of togetherness,


in a cold callous world, in this grinder where flimsy connections flicker past as we lay our souls bare.




True love afloat on the breeze found me, when your soft caresses tremulously wafted into my life,


as you fanned the dying embers into a furnace, gently warming my entire world,


for when we walked hand in hand, on the beaches of our loves’ distilled truths,


a kaleidoscope of feelings were within us both, gloriously unfurled.




2.




We have shared a lifetime of embroidered passions, with gentle flourishes and scribbled verse,


we have held each other, in moments of desire, soaring into the boundless open sky,


we have stood shoulder to shoulder, as the tides of pain battered us, as the ache of the twisting talons of fate gnawed us, almost apart at our very edges,


we have weathered the howling winds of adversity, as one, we have nurtured the flame of our bond, in those bleak moments when it threatened to die,


yes, our love has cocooned us together, where words seem unnecessary, for when true love finds you,


it needs no oaths, no promises, no dotted lines to sign, no rehearsed, mumbled pledges …





Artwork from Google





The Rains have Come …



there is a rustling of leaves, sashaying in a sensual dance of the trees,

an awakening of senses, butterflies fluttering across the plains,

as the thrashing sun is shielded by dark clouds,

filled with the promise of soothing African rains.


all around is the scent of parched earth, eagerly awaiting the nectar from the skies,

reviving exhausted birds in their nests, knowing the coming downpour shall wash away the detritus of torrid days,

wiping away tears from so many thirsty eyes.


overwhelmed by the mirth of the expectant grass,

rolling with a hush, on the buds of every flower,

awaiting the life bestowing blessings of a serene summer shower.


the coming of the African rains, filled with life,

offering a bounty hope for the living beings we share this earth with,

as we all await, patiently,

for the deluge that shall cleanse away all of yesterdays’ strife …



The Arrival of the Rains

We are one Race = Human

Artwork from Google



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 …




Artwork from Google

H O P E – a new year



from google




H O P E – a new year …



May we be gentler, softer and generous in spirit,


may we raise our voices against injustice whenever and wherever we see it,


may we treasure the love of family and of friends,


may we not be suckered into the million and one new trends,


may we speak truth to power in this world that is veering to the ominous right,


may we hold on to our basic humane principles strong and tight,


may we embrace the other without being bombarded by politicians’ peddling fear,


may we realise that all races and religions and genders belong equally on this earth so dear,


may we struggle for mother earth and may we heed her cries,


may we realise that without her everything dies,


may we continue to stand and fight for gender-rights and equality and justice and peace and hope and dignity for all,


may we be more willing to lend a hand to those who slip and fall.




May we finally realise that all the blood that has been callously shed –


is of one colour,

for we all bleed red …




from google







a happy new year?




so it’s that time of the year again, as we all drink to numb the pain, lost in a haze of intoxicated numbness, we try and hope that the year ahead will bring something different, something better, some peace of mind and peace on earth, while all the changes is passing of yet another year, leaving us bamboozled and at times quaking with fear – fear at all that may be in store for us, fear of being the last once again to board the bus, fear that tears are the soul, as we booze it up to just feel whole, thinking and believing that as the calender and the clock turn, the heartbreak and ache may cease to our beings burn, scalding us as we crawl around this world we each have carved out for ourselves, the callousness of us for us and they for themselves, while all along we clutch onto that sliver of hope that tomorrow will be a whole new day, without the angst and mortgage and bills, hoping that the year ahead will pour peace within until our lives it fills, oh but what can I say about myself, tattered and sweating it out on a sea swept island, alone as most of us do feel, even as we on our knees pray and exhort as we kneel, begging the powers up on high, to bless us with love and mercy and not being made to work to the bone, as our fellow humans walk stiffly around us, unfeeling as stone.


tonight as I stare at the clock of time, churning out more and more depressive and disjointed rhyme, I still hope though hope has abandoned me so many new years past, that the reverie of the countdown never seems to even after a minute after midnight last, while I sink deeper into the quicksand of fate, torn and battered and always knowing I’ll just be that little bit late, but why am I spewing these sad words to you, my friends? perhaps to find kindred spirits who feel as I do, perhaps to realise that I may not be so alone, hoping that not all of us are hardened as stone, praying that we can start afresh this coming year – hope and hoping and beseeching the gods above – to bless us with simple love. 


love, that elusive feeling that binds two souls together as one, love that renders us not singular creatures, love that we can feel and hold and touch and kiss, the love that we all crave and so very much miss,


but alas I have seen many a new year come and go, so I kind of maybe just a little bit know, that tomorrow will be just another day,


and tomorrow I will still be unable to keep this deep ache at bay 

art by banksy





freeversing new years blues …





… and so it has come to pass, this year that rendered trumped up egos as brittle as glass, the hubris of the few who have so much that it is grotesque, it is obscene, while the many billion souls are seen as chattel to sweat and die as they are relegated to the bowels unseen, and who would have believed it, that it is the year of our lord 2018 – and now the world awaits the pomp and the razzmatazz to usher in 2019, inebriated and inured, as the few use us all as pieces on a chess board, where billions of sewage-odoured cash are made off the perspiration in those barbaric sweat shops, and as the world is glued to the telly screens harrumphing as this stock and that bond drops, on that vile ticker seem everywhere it seems, allowing the few to purchase their penthouse of dreams, while once more the many are expected to work work work and never complain – damn your unions and collective bargaining for better pay and humane work conditions, we’re now in the era of ftz’s and coupons as daily rations.


it sickens me, as I know it does you, to smell the reeking greed of the 1% who fling around a million or ten to the slaving few, ah such generosity from those whose collective wealth could put an end to poverty and misery and preventable diseases if they only cared, if they only by some miracle or knock on the head realised and chose to accept that there is more than enough to be equitably shared – so that hunger and deprivation and indignity stalks our streets no more, yes yes yes, but who could care less, as they imbibe their largesse behind countless an endangered mahogany door.


so 2018 is coming to a close, and we are expected to intoxicate ourselves like some ancient gladiatorial charade, we are expected to be sloshed and staggering, singing and dancing expecting 2019 to be so much different than the year that is showing us the door, lost in a daze and a haze of alcohol fuelled excess, drowning the fact that we were driven to be deadened consumers in 2018, and who are we fooling, expecting a change in 2019, as dismembered hope and savaged dignity is swept off the stage, as the machinery of war and occupation and profits over people and petropolitics and diamonds and golden greed to cease, all the while the greed within us continues to ravenously feed, and as the rancid tumour of capitalism without conscience continues to multiply and breed. 


now, who am i to spew such self-righteous claptrap, i feast and enjoy the frills shaved off the innards of the profit-mongering beast, so who am i to slam the ways of this callous cold and heartless world, while i too don the tuxedo and have my partner drink champagne as to the music we have always swirled, so who am i to have the gall to even attempt to be a mouthpiece of the 99%, while every morning i as i pass by the dregs, it is i too who fling a couple or just a cent – i am you, i think, as we both guzzle down another fancy rainbow coloured drink, while cauterising our consciences, if we even had one, as long the the fine print is sealed and the deal done, so the booty can again and again and again be lasciviously won.


well, perhaps not you and i, we tell ourselves, we certainly don’t fit that heartless mould, where its buy buy buy and sell sell sell – sold!


then who is culpable?

who is to blame?


who is guilty of the pernicious non-rules of this endless i want more and more game?


it’s the leaders and politicians we holler, it’s the capitalists and corporations we shout, it’s the old money made off the backs of slaves we say, as we absolve us all, already, for 2019 and a day.


so here comes the end of yet another year, but by now our eyes are dry, incapable of shedding a single tear, not that tears are what is needed, if we could only turn off the blaring music and fireworks and hear the billions of empty stomachs that rumble, all around us as we of our saville row tailors do grumble – is there any hope at all that twenty19 will usher in a more kind, less harsh year? as for me I don’t think so, I fear. 


for as long as the system is as it is, gaudily consumerist and selling unfulfillable dreams, the world will be still tearing at the seams, where hunger continues to stalk the avenues of excess, where the crisp notes of money will be all that determines our success, for it is the system itself that fosters greed (not to give us all a pass), it is this corrosive system that has sunk its talons all around our no-longer very green earth, so what do we do to bring a better world to birth.


this is not a question but an indictment on me, who traipses around thinking that i am free, it is a slap in the face of my cocooned being, choosing what to ignore while seeing all that i wish to continually be seeing, oh yes indeed, it is i who am culpable of feeding this sewer of a system, that fills plates with caviar, while sucking out the very food from the hungry mouths both near and far, yes it is i who salivates over the next big thing, never pausing to even consider that as a united world, we may just be able to usher in a new spring.


a spring of hope and of justice and equality and gender-rights and freedom and dignity for all, it is within you and i to lift our heads which are so deeply entrenched in our comfortable sand, so that we may understand that cliche – that alone we fall but united we stand.


and stand we can, equally and as one, if we only accept that this system is vulgar and putrid, that this system consigns our fellow human beings to the cauldron of profit and of capital, and that the time has long passed for us to take up the long long long delayed battle, the battle for a gentler way, a kinder path where we all may tread, where no one in shame needs to ever again bow their head, for all to stand tall and proud, and perhaps then we may actually sing that we have overcome – that we have overcome the worst aspects of our human nature, tapping into each heart and releasing a wellspring of compassion for the sick, the infirmed, the elderly and the alone, but until that time we shall all be just divided, trying to draw water from the exploitative stone.


so, how possible is this new way, where humanity will hold sway? 


not possible at all unless the system is torn to tatters and set ablaze, to awaken us all from our consumerist daze, where charity and philanthropy are the order of the day (though i cannot say much for i do not lend a helping hand), and within this noxious system it is charity and philanthropy that “assists” the many, while i walk alone but with countless other – goose-stepping in silent compliance that is harks back millennia and that is so similarly uncanny.


no, it is the system that must either consume itself or be razed to the ground, all so that we may all plant new seeds all around, and yes it may work or it may not, and yes it will be chaos for quite a while – but what is the alternative?


for us all to continue to be servile?


wishing all a very happy 2019 …





a Southern African philosophy of the interconnectedness of all living beings

free as the wind





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 …



from google

from google



awaiting the African rains …



there is a rustling of leaves, sashaying in a sensual dance of the trees,

an awakening of senses, butterflies fluttering across the plains,

as the thrashing sun is shielded by dark clouds,

filled with the promise of soothing African rains.




all around is the scent of parched earth, eagerly awaiting the nectar from the skies,

reviving exhausted birds in their nests, knowing the coming downpour shall wash away the detritus of torrid days,

wiping away tears from so many thirsty eyes.




overwhelmed by the mirth of the expectant grass,

rolling with a hush, on the buds of every flower,

awaiting the life bestowing blessings of a serene summer shower.




the coming of the African rains, filled with life,

offering a bounty hope for the living beings we share this earth with,

as we all await, patiently,

for the deluge that shall cleanse away all of yesterdays’ strife …




from google


from google

I refuse 



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

http://tinyurl.com/oo45esm



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!

H O P E





though pummelled by cantankerous day,

embracing encroaching night,


the desolation lifts,

glimpsing a shimmer in the tunnel,

of hope’s eternal light … … …



In your eyes #5






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 …

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