Tag Archive: #Literature


My loveliness



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 …




y e a r n i n g



what is this yearning,


this furnace, this cauldron,


raging, burning.




this need,

this ache,


these dreams,


entwined, woven in clandestine half smiles,


stealing glances, across forgotten years,


endless miles …



the veiled connection

from google



the veiled connection … 




when two souls connect, far beyond the constraints of place, of that or of this lifetime,


when two hearts connect, thud-thuddingly beating to the same rhyme,


when two minds connect, forging a kinship beyond the shackles of merciless time,


a veiled connection, an intricately woven bouquet of emotions begin to intertwine.




the connection that fuses, melding two people, must be restrained by circumstance and societal norms,


the connection that fuses, melding two people, can hardly be truly known, for love appears in infinite forms,


the connection that fuses, melding her thoughts with mine, caresses each moment as each moment magically transforms.




such are the frivolous machinations of fate,


such are the oblivious workings of time, at times too early, at times just a second or two too late,


such are the truths we realise but at what cost, for the key handed down to us may not be for our specific gate.




the random sense of humour that destiny and fate do often betray, leaves scars, not smiles along the way,


the random sense of humour that life often displays, condemns a soul to the bleakness of the foggy grey,


the random sense of humour that determines who loves, and who doesn’t, seem like a trick that the rolling dice of fate may play.




the timing of a veiled connection forged in destiny’s blurry haze, leaves hearts and souls scorching, ablaze,


the timing of a veiled connection often determines the bends in many pathways, rarely missing a beat to reduce feelings into a series of tragi-comic plays,


and so it goes, that the timing of a veiled connection is crucial to the direction the pendulum of love sways,


more often than not abandoning souls,


to be forever lost in an indecipherable maze …



from google




prejudice 2.0.



when the ghouls emerge, from deep within the recesses of our fungal minds,

our prejudice, our hubris, our misogyny, our racism, seeks fertile ground to take root,

to mutate into a new fangled, subtle fascism,

across breakfast table banter, seeping into politely civil conversation,

digging its claws into the common discourse,

choosing to settle comfortably into binary, zero sum opinions,

to make hate acceptable, if couched in the right language,

to make racism the norm, if sewn into the broader fabric of society,

to make misogyny humorous, a joke to be shared here, or a comment to be sniggered at there,

to make poverty the fault of the poor, branding the vast majority of humans as being simply lazy scum, chattel to be squashed or squeezed dry,

to bask in the ugly cocoon of greed, of ostentatious excess, to deny that privilege has been handed down, generation upon generation,

to gloss over the facts, to polish the brutal past, to spew the notion of not being complicit,

to make these abominable thoughts,

these despicable actions,

these repugnant beliefs,

feel at home again.



we THE people

They’re prepping for a race war. And they see Trump as their ‘ray of hope’

https://cnn.it/2DyzMzX

NOTE: this is the drivel that is being spouted – neo-nazi and neo-fascist and apartheid- style rhetoric and hate – all based on spurious “facts” and on outright lies. 

South Africa, and non-white South Africas have NOT targeted “white” South Africans – on the contrary President Nelson Mandela and subsequent presidents and Mandela’s party, the majority party the African National Congress (ANC) has since the end of Apartheid in 1994 NEVER ordered or even mentioned a systematic “race-war” against white South Africans.

On the contrary white South Africans today live in the many old “white” suburbs and yes, there is a serious crime situation but South Africans of EVERY race are affected and more so the African majority, being the majority are the highest, percentage wise, victims of violent crime. 

This very dangerous and divisive narrative that is being spewed by hate groups around the world as they connect with each other on the web and elsewhere is toxic, corrosive, and very dangerous to the work-in-progress that South African society is still engaged in given the centuries old legacy of colonialism and the decades of Apartheid tyranny and racial oppression. 

We dismiss these attempts at sowing division in South Africa and we will not let the forces of hate and racial-superiority derail our common objective of living up to the Freedom Charter’s opening words –

“We, the People of South Africa, declare for all our country and the world to know: that South Africa belongs to all who live in it, black and white, and that no government can justly claim authority unless it is based on the will of all the people.”

https://www.sahistory.org.za/article/freedom-charter



we THE people …



as the forces of reaction grow louder, as the fascism of right-wing politics seem to be burgeoning, as the misogyny and racism and attacks on the rights of those who love differently echoes through the corridors of power, as all of this and so much more fills the air we breathe with a noxious stench, may we the people resist! may we the people erect the barricades, may we the people look back to all those brave and courageous souls who stood upright and fought the battles of yesterday – and not give in to despondency, may we the people resist and in resisting may we send a clear and resounding message to the forces that choose to divide, not unite, engender narrow nationalism not fraternal internationalism, may our message to them be clear, concise and loud – no pasaran! you shall not pass, for though you may wield the whip of power, we the people shall not give in to your tunnel vision of the politics of hate and divisiveness, for We The People always have been, and shall remain many, many more. Take heed of history for you stand rickety on the losing side and lose you shall, despite your gains here and there, lose you shall and lose you will, for We The People have been and always shall be many, many more. many more than the 1%, many more than the vultures of capital and greed, many more than you are, and ever shall be.


We The People are many, many more*



Amandla!

Venceremos!

Aluta Continua!

We SHALL Overcome!



* – slogan from Ken Loach’s film “Tierra y Libertad” or “Land and Freedom” on the Spanish Civil War. 



Capitalism 101



walking down pathways strewn with nettles,


swept along alleyways where dust settles,


always seeking respite from the nagging ache,


quarantined for a bit from society so fake,


where all that matters is the cash you rake,


throttling each other for the cents you make …



the nomad …

Baobab Tree – artwork from google



the nomad …



picking up, slivers of life, hewn into flesh,


leaving once again, clinging onto moonbeams, shards of sunlight once dazzling and warm, thrashed by howling fate,

lost in echoes of yesterdays hope,


shuffling onward, one step at a time, seeking not much but enough, always enough,

between concrete hearts and steely grime,

seeking absolution, in penitence resigned,


to more scribbles,


more paltry rhyme …



the city of gold – joburg skyline from google

Artwork from Google



just mush …



drowning in your eyes, 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 tempus fugit, 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 …



Artwork from Google

Artwork from Google



lost | broken …



lost, broken,


alone,

in a foggy crevasse,


wedged between


sanity | madness | anguish.




i lose, break,

memories taunting,

waking thoughts,


stripping me bare | naked | exposed.




i survive, barely breathing,


slipping deeper,

into nothingness,


feeling little | shattered | numb.




i am incomplete, without you,

fatigued,


gnawed by emptiness | desolation | pain.




i persist, each breath futile,


crushed, yet alive,


comforted knowing only,


that you breathe | you live | and that you love …



Artwork from Google

Serenity Beckons



Serenity beckons,

a mirage of soft blues, flaming scarlets,

colours ablaze with tender compassion,

I wish for nothing fancy,

for just as the wilting rose,

weakened by the autumn sun,

at rest, peaceful,

waits for the coming of spring,

so do I,

wait patiently,

for the love that you so exquisitely bring

she took me in, when i was broke and broken,

she held me close, when i spun wordy webs, with half-truths spoken.

she mended my bruises, while i leeched off her spirit, a true light that soared free,

she breathed life into me, when i stubbornly refused to see.

she chipped away at the encroaching wall, that hid me from her, that distanced me from all,

she lent a hand, picking up my pieces, each time i stumbled, every time i took a fall.

she was too good for me, i can in truth say that today,

clasping my hand, as again and again i chose to cowardly crawl away.

today, i know that mere apologies are hollow, and sorry seems far too easy to say,

yet i am sorry, and ever thankful, for her infusing the light of hope, in far too many a darkened day.

today i also know these words are hypocritical, too easy while ensconced in my comfort zone,

today i also know, that for sentiments flung into the wind, it may never, in truth, be ever possible, to in honesty, atone.



the rapids of life smashed me against the jagged rocks of fate and time,

I tried my best to cope with the day-to-dayness of a society mired in cruel slime,

I tried, I cried,
I felt so cold I thought that I may have died.



Shattered shards of glass littered my path ahead,

I faked smiles though within I was dead.



The promises of joy seemed a mirage untrue,

which is when I found solace when I met you.



You shush my hearts cries,

you take me on your unfettered wings, soaring across the bluest skies,

your love is simple, tender, shielding me from the unbearable crowd,

your love is a balm, soothing me with gentle light, banishing every dark cloud.



This is why you are my world, a universe in my heartbeat,

a love so pristine, so warm, holding onto me so I may never retreat,

to that frigid void, that unfeeling vacuum that shrouded me,

before you took my hand in yours,

before you became the eyes through which I see …









we are starstuff …






(inspired by Dr. Carl Sagan)




stringed, strung, cobbled together, strands of DNA sewn from the cosmic rubble,



innumerable galaxies, theoretically plausible, infinite universes side by side,



floating in the quantum cauldron, within a bubble.




flotsam and jetsam in spaces between spaces,



where time, and days, kisses and tears, fears and years,



embroider the quilt of a multitude of races.


the vastness blurring much, grinding us down at times, into cosmic dust,



yet through stoic will, through love held deep, we rebuild again from crumbling rust.



starstuff, is all we are,



hewn through eons, within us, and into the stellar void so far.


starstuff is all,


we ever were,



starstuff is from where we came to be,



just starstuff:


you, and me.



         

inspired by Dr. Carl Sagan










The rains over Jo’burg …


The parched African earth soaks up the liquid offering from the heavens,

birds sing, ululate,

a chorus of catharsis flows through the barren land,

merging into a symphony of renewal.



The rains pour down,

transcending dry tinder of yesterday,

chasing insipid moments away,

drowning in a cacophony of jubilant life.



Life that rumbles,

streaming down desolate alleyways like meandering tears of joy,

drenching this mad, wonderful, insane, bubbling city of gold,

this Jozi, our eGoli, thirsting for nectar from the skies above.



Moments of undistilled mirth,

herald the arrival of spring,

a triumphant rebirth,

jubilant,

ecstatic,

as the Gods of Africa, the spirits of the ancestors,

smile down upon us.



We of flesh and of blood, of muscle and of bone,

thawing our hearts from frozen winter cold as stone,

infusing hope,

as the fragrance of rain on dry soil sketches rainbows,

seeking respite behind heaving clouds of charcoal grey,

the rains banishing winter chills away,

while graciously welcoming spring to stay.



The rains over Jo’Burg cleanse leaves on trees,

rinsing the detritus that listlessly hung,

dry and scorched by the merciless winter sun.


But today,

there are songs to be sung.


Today I am with the heavens,

no longer a mishmash of fragments,

and as our city breathes, purified by bounteous, rejuvenating rain:

I am whole,

once again …







talking regurgitated impotent worldwide injustice blues …




i have been here so many times before, spewing forth words that must be by now a repetitive bore.



scribbling this and that, having said it all so many times, these tired, paltry, meagre words seem to be just cobbled together to rhymes.



all my belched words appear impotent to me today, scribbled over and over again, reeking of stale garbage, stinking in the rain.



words and emotions felt deep, gnawing at my being, spat out, to ears unhearing, thrust before eyes unseeing.



so i ask myself why carry on this wordy parade, of simplistic rhymes, of grammar unsound, yet feeling compelled to keep going on this endless merry-go-round.



all my walls shattered, my ramparts battered, yet still i need to throw up these words, hither and thither scattered.



but i ask myself how can i stop, when most of humanity is used as a ragged mop, when the few like vampires feast on the human blood they suck, squeezing out sweat from the many who are condemned to bleed in the muck.



i see the good people all around me, burying their heads so they never may see, their selfish religiosity on display for all to ooh and aah, while their own religions’ humanistic tenets they keep afar.



the curse of neo-colonialism, neo-imperialism, and of bonded labour, strangle the many, while the 1% their champagne do savour.



misogyny, child-abuse, spousal and gender violence, hetero-patriarchy, female genital mutilation, in 2017 upon women everywhere is still what is endured, with all dignity slashed, while platitudes are spoken from pulpits, the sham of indignation hypocritically rehashed.



governments the world over spending trillions on weapons of death, while pleading poverty when it comes to free, dignified, professional health.



the 99% still slaves to the tyranny of shameful wages, the conditions that have tortured so many throughout the ages.



words of struggle and of principled defiance, words like ‘freedom’, ‘democracy’, ‘justice’, ‘equality’, have been cynically pilfered, by those in the corridors of business and of political power, while choking grimy dust across the planet does continually shower.



my mother is still paid so much less, than the very men who conjured up this economic mess, and if she demands higher wages she is castigated for the thoughts, while the business tycoons, the government men blather on about their newly-acquired luxury yachts.



the struggles of Nelson Mandela and of Martin Luther King, are neatly repackaged gutting out their sting, remodelled to be acceptable, while burying the essence of their revolutionary call, the demand for free education, health, housing, dignity, justice and work for all.



we wear these icons of resistance on t-shirts made in sweatshops in bangladesh, the ultimate betrayal of their sacrifice, of the humane values they espoused, while the fires of resistance are with brutal, apathetic drivel doused.



this planet, our common earth, is being pummelled each day, nature itself is for profit ravaged, caring not that we shall leave behind an earth that has been for greed savaged.



when by the most powerful, ugly male egotistical, macho posturing is bleated out, beating the drums and threatening endless for-profit wars, the rest of us are petrified, for the mighty have long reaching claws.



racist notions of supremacy are bandied about without a murmur of indignation, the evils of casteism, religious fanaticism, tribal and narrow sectarianism, grotesque nationalism, gay bashing, and misogynist sewage is poured with glee, and still we turn our collective heads, pretending we can’t see.



when speaking truth to power is deemed a capital crime, how impotent i feel scribbling yet another listless rhyme.



when societies are structured to create a craving for the materialistic trappings of capitalism, how easily tainted into swear words are the values of socialism.



what is demanded are not mansions of ostentatious gaudy gold, each replete with a marbled hall, but water, food, electricity, dignified work, health, education, housing, and peace and dignity for all.



they truly want us divided, on religious, caste, racial, narrow nationalistic, sexual orientation, male-female, and all the other lies, while all the while the hungry child for just some food cries.



they know if we break out of our narrow cocoons, they shall have to face the wrath of a united world, a world become one, for then none of their machinations shall suppress us, and only then shall our truest battles be hard won.



i may be a hypocrite for scribbling these rhymes, but then so are you for not hearing the bell tolling for a radical changing of the times.



how long will it take for us to rise, to dissent, to question everything that has been to us said, from the economy to religion to race, class, and to gender too, what will it take me to see what is right in front of me, and for you to see what is right in front of you.



when shall we cast off these shackles that imprison us, the shackles of apathy and of looking the other way, not realising that together we can and should and must strive for a better day, not perhaps to rid us of all suffering and all pain, all oppression, and perhaps not in one fell swoop, but at least taking our first steps towards progressive progression.



these scribbled, worthless words, seem nothing but an empty vessel drummed on and on each day,



but from the heart i do write,



about what i believe to be wrong,



and what i believe to be right.





a repost:





A Tribute.


Dr. Martin Luther King Jr.

(1929 – 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.








    they do not see me at all …


    1.


    They do not see me at all,

    as I walk through these desecrated avenues,

    of soul-deadening frenzy.


    I see them rushing past me,

    and no matter how hard I holler and call,

    they do not see me at all.


    It seems at times, that invisible am I,

    for when I reach out, and shriek,

    when on my knees I crawl,

    they rush past me,

    for they do not see me at all.


    I have tried to raise their ire,

    I have taunted and goaded them,

    till exhausted and fatigued,

    to the cold damp ground I fall,

    still they rush past me,

    for they do not see me at all.


    I stand mutely,

    waving my hands all around while scribbling verses in my unintelligible scrawl,

    still they rush past me,

    for they do not see me at all.


    They rush past me, knocking me over without ever looking back,

    trampling over my fallen form,

    they look past my limp crumpled shadow,

    as they whine on in their monotonous drawl,

    and they still do not see me at all.


    2.


    When they look my way,

    flickers of recognition crossing their faces,

    I crawl back into my nothingness,

    cocooned as the day begins to pall,

    hoping, tired and broken,

    to be back in the space,

    where they cannot see me at all …







    the subtle constant of mathematics …




    Rigorous proof.

    Simple.

    Constant.

    Real.


    Not this implausible charade, this illogical masquerade.


    All our perambulations,

    wasted wordy navigations,

    our tottering,

    our swaying,

    our constant greed,

    to believe,

    clinging onto inexplicable human need:


    The belief in fantasy,

    fantasy as staple nutrition,

    upon which our common illusions feed.



    when gloom sweeps down, sinking its talons into my skin,

    it has always been you who guides me out of the fog, out of the doom, out of the bog.

    it has always been you,

    ever gentle,

    ever loving,


    ever true …

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