art from google
bipolar blues …
twisting minefields,
tearing neurons,
imploding with ferocious intent,
till synapses freeze,
numbly content.
I am rendered wasted, unfazed,
while the mind falters,
stagnating in puddles of highs and lows,
dumbed down, the mind ceases to gallop,
pulling the reins as every real thought –
S L O W S
– idle,
inured, pharmaceutically hazed,
all emotion stunted, razed,
floating,
aimlessly dazed …
art from google
I remember her beret,
on that rainy day at the bus-stop,
she said that she had grown tired of the pretences this world demanded,
we spoke of Marx and she smiled, for I was much younger then, wearing it all on my sleeve,
she smiled, and we spoke till she had to leave.
we met at that bus-stop many times more,
sharing our laughter, our pain, of the knots that cut deep into our core,
she always wore her beret and she was fierce, brave and steadfastly traversing the murky waters of being a wage-slave,
we promised each other we wouldn’t be like the rest, not even in our grave,
ah but that was many moons back, when life was starkly coloured white and black,
I wonder where she could be now, and I hope she is as she was back then,
when everything wasn’t just about love and light and being zen,
I wonder too were we to perchance meet, would she pull me close out of the grime stained street,
or would she walk on by, leaving me to my own devices,
after decades of being whittled down, after making all the right choices … … …
on your skin, scribbling odes to love,
angry, lost, empty,
raucous, pristine, encompassing love.
on my heart, scribbled odes embossed, etched, engraved,
yearning, pining, aching,
for you … … …
destiny
fate
somewhere
someplace
alfoat on honeydew petals
mere strands
filaments
years trickling through
fingertips
lost whispers
dreamed caresses
awake
alive …
smouldering
ablaze in the cauldron
of
destiny
fate
of convergent wisps
sprinkling kisses
on your
honeydew lips
we shall always be many more
we who roast in your designer factories
our brows dripping salty sweat
we who forgive but shall never forget
we shall always be many more
we reek of cheap moonshine
we stagger and often stumble
our stomachs never ceasing to rumble
we shall always be many more
we polish your fine bone china
our pay gets docked if a cup gets chipped
our children to wars get shipped
we shall always be many more
we clean up after your pretty children
our kids are hungry, naked and callously swept
into bowels of desolation, as mothers’ tears are wept
we shall always be many more
we do your dirty work every day
you treat us like vermin, foul and rotten
our dignity always forgotten
we shall always be many more
we will rise up, seizing the standard of hope
reclaiming what is common for daughters and sons
always squarely in the cross-hairs of your guns
we shall always be many more
and there shall be many more of us to come
to rid you of your smug arrogance, endless greed
yes we too have children we have to feed
we shall always be many more
‘and the meek shall inherit the earth’
or something like that though we no longer care
for we shall rise up demanding our common share
we shall always be many more … … …
( with thanks to Ken Loach’s film ‘Tierra y Libertad’
breathless, laboured
tortured
each breath
swallowed
greedily gulping gasping
each breath
stolen
without you
your fingers
mine
sketching dreams
scribbling hopes
my fingers
yours
holding back
resistant
knowing the path ahead
littered with thorns
oblivious
knowing
the path ahead must be walked
alone at times
but never lonely
not with you by my side
evoking a belonging felt true and deep
inside
these interwoven veins
dna
double-helixed
microscopically
binding
me
you
us
all
through
this common
shared
truth:
‘I am because you are’*
all of us
together
as one
me
you …
… uBuntu*
* – uBuntu is an isiXhosa/isiZulu concept that espouses the “belief in a universal bond of sharing that connects all humanity”
a beach of solace
the lapping waves
tickling our bare toes
softly powdered sand caressing our feet
a carpet of palms
waltzing in the breeze
imagine …
you
i
setting sail on distant seas
far
far
away
bidding adieu to the emptiness of yesterday
sharing each other
knowing that your
smile
stays with me
within me
through
tomorrows we have still to see
sharing
our slice of peace
through
laughter
tears
through
joy
fears
to
bloom in earthy hues
when thunderstorms pass
blossoming into fiery scarlet
kneading away
our hollow suburban blues …
for ’tis in your smile
that my mirth resides
imagine …
your head on my shoulder
ready to face all
oncoming tides
imagine …
misty tears fall on splintered parchment
history simmers
the shackles of centuries cast off
the chains of oppression shattered
embracing new horizons
dawning
and
trusting once again
in that unfinished dream
of less famished tomorrows
scribbling verses
on her bare back
my fingers
rhyming
each flourish a caress
etching odes to hope
across the canvas
of her warm skin …
her breath
inflamed
seeking
fingertips
lips
sashaying in the evening breeze
dancing free
abandoning trepidation
what do i know
as
fingers flutter
over undulating peaks
valleys …
softly
gently
as soul meets soul
she who is
half of my whole
she who remains
my perennial
meditation
…
straining to hear
the thud-thudding of your heart
amidst this cacophonous crowd.
so
i close my eyes
and
i see you
floating on clouds
unfettered
free to just be
your wings spread proud
unclipped
skipping
hopping
across sunbeams
sketching your open sky
bathed in
colours vivid
alive
fiery
earthy
warm
fierce
gentle
each
brush stroke
infused with hues
from
the palette of your dreams …
Parched lullabies seem jarring,
gentle persuasion an assault,
quiet understanding reeking of decay,
fatigued under this skin in which I must stay.
Dreams of moulting,
shedding the hubris of crafty words,
flushing away all famished rhymes,
ripping the fibres of an ink-stained past.
Knowing.
Always knowing,
that honey-soaked kisses, seem destined,
breathlessly,
never to last
Embers fade,
disappearing into the hushed night …
Petals wither,
falling on the soft grass …
Words pale,
obscured by the anguish within …
Faces blur,
dimmed by the galloping years …
Kisses lose,
the urgency of those bygone depths …
Feelings recede,
lying dormant in shielded vaults …
Love loses,
fatigued after numberless skirmishes …
Pain flees,
seeking new wounds to inflict …
Scars remain,
sentinels against,
the dilution of memory … … …
why, they ask her,
why him?
she always says the
day we met
and spoke
and laughed
she felt
all she needed to be was herself
William Dalrymple, author of ‘City of Djinns’ inscribed my copy.
Inscription reads “from an adopted Dilliwaala to Afzal, a real one”
😊
✌
👍
✊
The pendulum swings,
while the mania in my head,
strips me bare and yanks me,
into the cauldron of love.
Once again,
never divining the tea leaves,
knowing, always knowing,
the gnawing knots of unease,
that curl into a fist.
My isolation is a shield,
a suit of armour,
tightly clad around my self,
once worn,
then discarded,
taking its place,
on my barren shelf.
Love, mania and verse,
coalesce, beseeching me,
with timeous forewarning,
not to tread into the quicksand,
that slippery bog of promise.
Yet,
in times past,
in moments present,
tis’ that very promise,
that I cling to.
At times I lose,
myself in the crowd,
revelling in the solitude found there,
at times I claw,
my way back to the now,
aching for the pain that stings,
the buried voice that sings,
dirges to forgotten emotions,
scribbled verse that flings,
the toys out of my cot,
while I wait,
for the mania to stop,
knowing,
always knowing,
that it shall be,
merely a matter of time,
before the other shoe,
must, as always,
drop
my starved eyes, aching for a glimpse of your smile, ready to beguile, their thirst quenched, seeking simple joys, not million dollar toys, finally, coaxed the ocean of your eyes, to reveal the kernel of truth beneath the veneer of lies, so love me now, today, where fractured dreams are made whole by the sea spray, plunging deeper into the ocean shimmering in your eyes, hoping we may breathe, like the terror of time, high on up into blue skies, where love roams unshackled, in that ocean so deep,
in your beautiful eyes … … …
An imprint of you remains,
mingled in the blood racing through my veins,
hewn into my flesh you stay,
a chiselled tattoo from our long-lost yesterday,
deeply branded by your entire being,
rooted to a memory incapable of fleeing,
torn, and twisting inside my skin,
the pain screeches like jangling cans of tin,
a desolate nightmare this agony feels,
with a phantom whiff of your sweet breath my soul reels,
now that you are gone, lost within a labyrinth of illusions,
your voice swarms inside my desperate delusions,
scratching, clawing layers of past moments spent with you,
you are a part of me, an unfaded, vivid tattoo,
and as my dreams of you frantically race,
I am unable to erase,
the blazing picture of your exquisite face,
so let me be, and leave me to burn in this furnace of my hell,
I should have known better,
but all that matters little,
because it was for you, that I fell
as she lies bleeding,
the girl who skipped, hopped to school,
all of nine and a half years old,
with ribbons in her hair and a laugh that was her father’s pride.
as she lies bleeding,
shrapnel lodged in her torn stomach,
she stares at her skipping rope,
as her blood soaks it the colour of cherries her mummy buys.
as she lies bleeding,
she sees people all around thick black smoke,
blurred visions of scattering feet, shoes left behind,
hearing nothing but the pinging in her smashed eardrums.
as she lies bleeding,
she slips away and then she is dead,
a mangled heap of a nine and a half year old girl,
whose laugh was her father’s pride.
as she lies bleeding,
for even in death she bleeds some more,
shrapnel wedged in her torn stomach,
stealing the light from her bright little eyes.
as she lies bleeding …
in jallianwala bagh in ‘19,
leningrad in ‘42,
freetown in ‘98,
soweto in ‘76,
jenin in ‘02,
hanoi in ‘68,
beirut in ‘85,
raqqa now,
aleppo still,
gaza too.
as she lies bleeding,
a little nine and a half year old girl,
whose laugh was her parent’s pride,
we know she’ll bleed more,
tomorrow and in many tomorrows yet unborn,
with shrapnel in her stomach,
ripped open and torn.
as she lies bleeding … …
