my lifetime of lies …

quote from google

my lifetime of lies ...




... murmurs of this life's memories, curl like wisps of smoke,


fading into the ether, leaving the poison of all the lies I have wrapped around me, 


my own infected cloak ...


... every blurred image from that long lost time when I was young,


not a single day has passed into night, when I have ceased spinning the lies that I have spun,


leaving every soul, everything that ever was whole,


flushed down into the tentacles of poisoned sewers, my every reeking breath throttling each being, into my putrid void,


of all goodness devoid,


yanking everyone to drown in a bottomless hole,


leaving nothing left on the carcasses from whom I pillaged and stole,


each breath breathed, throttled in lies that I have sheathed,


with words easily sputtered, vows and promises vilely muttered,


into ears I have nibbled and kissed,


each promise an oath betrayed, my forked tongue camouflaging all the bile I have hissed,


leaving those who chose to know me, to love me, to hold me in their hearts,


leaving them all battered, victims all of my poisoned darts,


taking and taking and taking, and then taking some more, consumed by my wretched greed,


then casually discarded, when left with nothing more to quench my revolting need,


each soul a person,
every heart a gem,


my caressing fingers thrusting thorns in each tender stem,


and now, after a lifetime of suckling, I see them all in my reflected face,


I feel them all in every crevasse, my willful deceptions impossible to ever erase,


while the mirror now reflects my eternal shame, desecrating all like mere pawns in my carefully crafted game,


leaving a sludge-filled trail of long overdue arrears, as I shamelessly weep yet more crocodile tears,


bleeding more and more for more and more,


then banishing each one on an empty shore,


having gutted them all to their very core,


till they see me as a person no more,


just a repugnant man, who has never given a damn,


yes,
finally,

and at long last,


they can see me for what I really am ...

quote from google

she smiles …

she smiled
                   at me

i smiled back
                       feeling at once
             alive
                     free

she smiled
                   as tears fell from her eyes

she smiled
                   forgiving
      centred
                    humane

           she still smiles,

             forgiving all my lies …

peace | love | uBuntu

Mirage …

the charade swoons ever on,

moulted remnants of dulled pain,

lie scattered across the blank page,

as slowly approaching dawn,

offers a glimpse,

a fleeting mirage,

of a fragrant new morn …

Farcical Verse

Farcical Verse…

Spurious words frothing, contorted and forked,

litter the discarded alleyways through which I have walked,

my smile, the merest sliver of a veil cloaked and clogged,

my callous heart awaits it’s fate, the release of finally being flogged,

each putrid breath taken reeks of stale consciences, left shoddily out to rot,

every fractured word spoken should be put up against the wall to be humanely shot …

… So if he should come calling, raise your head up high, be brave and be strong,

and tell him that it is over, tell him that there is no one, and that there is nothing, and that there is nowhere at all, left to belong

Freedom Day – 27th April 2013

South Africa: Freedom Day April 27 2013

1.

On the 27th day of April in Nineteen Ninety-Four,

Freedom was won, at long last.

The battles were many, the foe brutal,

Apartheid tore our southern tip of the continent of Africa apart,

it’s notions of racial-superiority,

its religious fundamentalism,

its fascist tendencies,

its beastly nature,

ripped the flesh off the skin of our collective selves,

but resistance to tyranny has always been a basic human aspiration,

and so resistance flourished.

2.

Ordinary folk,

school-teachers and machinists,

nurses and poets,

labourers and engineers,

lawyers and students,

resisted!

We remember you today,

as a copper African sun shines bright this Saturday morning in April of Two-Thousand and Thirteen,

we honour you, who fought,

Comrades all –

Walter Sisulu,

Nelson Mandela,

Joe Slovo,

Ahmed Kathrada,

Bram Fischer,

Steve Biko,

Solomon Mahlangu,

Vuyisile Mini,

Denis Goldberg,

and many many more,

those we know and love,

and those whose bones have now settled in our rich African soil,

those who died,

those who were executed,

those who were shot,

those who were tortured,

those who were killed,

and the countless who are still tortured today by the swords of memory,

the emotional and psychological torture,

that still rains down on the valiant ones and their families.

Families!

Families fractured, broken and scattered throughout the world,

fragments of a sister’s laugh, a daughter’s smile,
bite as harshly into the soul as did Apartheid’s cruel lashes of violence.

So many died, too many died,

and I remember them,

Dulcie September – Assassinated in Paris

Steve Biko – Tortured and Murdered in South Africa

Solomon Mahlangu – Hanged by the Apartheid State

Ahmed Timol – Tortured and Murdered

Bram Fischer – Died in Prison

Hector Petersen – Shot in Soweto ’76

David Webster – Killed

and many many more,

their blood flowing into the soil of our ancestors,

our country, our South Africa,

for all South Africans,

Black and white and brown and all the shades of humanity’s mosaic.

3.

Now we reflect,

now we must dissect,

the fruits of freedom,

thus far,
much has been achieved,

yet,

the struggles continue,

for employment,

health-care for all,

shelter and housing for all,

and my compatriots have earned it,

they have stewed in the mines,

deep beneath the soil,

for shiny metals and glittering glass.

The revolution is a work-in-progress,

true liberation shall be economic liberation,

where each and every South African,

can walk the land of our ancestors,

truly free.

We SHALL overcome!

Amandla!

Mayibuye-i-Afrika!

The Struggles Continue, Comrades…

The Slothful Musings of an Indicted Leech

The Slothful Musings of an Indicted Leech …

… I suck. Simply put, I suck.

Attaching my slimy being,

surreptitiously clingy,
nauseatingly smooth,
ingratiatingly insidious,

onto warm sources of sustenance.

I suck, I leech, I drain,

the elements of good-nature,

turning smiles into profitable ventures,

sucking, leeching, draining,

the beings I encounter,

suctioned cups of guilt,
of predatory precision,
surgical frigidness,
clinical intent,

sucking, leeching, draining,

till fattened,

bulging with burgeoning gains,

flush with siphoned-off goodwill,

bloated by hubris,

slipping away,

slithering into my den,

creeping on borrowed legs,

seeing with donated eyes,

cloaked in spurious fabric,

I leech, I suck.

Self-pity my only refrain,

flushing what is left of a soul,

down,

into the welcoming drain.