Tag Archive: philosophy


the shuddering of the leaves 

​the rains are welcome,

infusing roots of trees, lightning blazes, a cacophonous tapestry of jagged fireworks,


and yet, and still,


the leaves shudder … …

vagabond verse …

vagabond verse.

running against slippery winds,

fragments of past lives,
tugging at the heels,

shedding tired breaths,
moulting yesterdays skin,

inflamed by passions,
raging,
swirling,

deep within,

gathering the shards,
cobwebbed,
mangled,

inside,
tattered embers simmering dim,

heartstrings plucked,
a-jingle & a-jangled,

while,
your presence sparks the tinder,

setting every fibre afire,

aching,
hungering,

yearning with silent desire,

for the ache felt,
when dreaming of your exquisite kiss,

is,

an ache akin to a state of bliss,

an ache enveloping mind,
body,
soul,

an aching hope,
infusing my being entire,

complete,

whole.

image

The Immigrants Void – Sculpture by Bruno Catalano

http://brunocatalano.com/sculpture-bronze2/sculpture-en-bronze-bruno-catalano.php?galerie=1

wishes …

            wishes …

image

may soft petals caress your being

may gentle shoulders share your burdens

may warm sunshine reach the innermost recesses of your thud-thudding heart

may these words
offer

solace
comfort

when hope
seems vacant

an empty space
hollow

cold
yet safe

in moments like those
is when

i
hope
you

know

there’s always the promise of a less harsh tomorrow …

image

walking through the crowd …

walking through the crowd …

alone
not lonely

traversing oceans
skipping mountains

tugged by beckoning smiles

absorbed along
endless miles

seeking strands of hope
loosely strung

untying the noose
where desolation once hung

while
scribbling verses unfathomably obtuse

discarding meter and rhyme

frantically
chasing ever-fleeing time

knowing
my moulting skin
is all that i have to lose

while still
walking through the crowd

alone
not lonely

an outsider

always
seeking peace
within

ever hopeful
of gentler days

when
healing may begin

soothing the soul

casting off leaden  weight

of so much that has in tne past,

past

flickering moonbeams …

flickering moonbeams …

on ancient shores
retracing steps

wet sand beneath bare feet

sipping kisses
hungry

sweet.

in distant streams

soul heart body mind
bathed as one

in sundrenched streams

flowing
ebbing
teasing
tugging

tasting
lapping
meandering

breathing caresses

wildly flickering
like
giddy moonbeams

on the cool wet sands

of
our beach of dreams

The African Rains …

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.

a shared mosaic

a shared mosaic.

threads
intertwined
bind

him
her
you

&

i

together.

earthy
shades
colours

hues
fuse

him
her
you

&

i

together.

one mosaic

one world
one race

human …

him
her
you

&

i

together …

embers
sear

our open sky

rippling strings
bound together

like
falling stars
strumming
murmured melodies

emblazoned across shared tapestries

alive with colours

earthy
and
green

softening the stings
of all that was

all that is

all that has been

the duality of time …

time
erodes

loves lives hearts
souls spirits selves …

time
mends

wounds
souls

a salve
a balm

knowing
in the end

there is always

only

stillness
silence

peace
calm

that gentler way …

that gentler way …

sometimes in dreams
this world feels a much gentler place

where hunger stalks nights and days no more

where we share this earths gifts

more equally
less greedually

a gentler place

where we’ve bade farewell to war …

sometimes in dreams
i taste the hope

of a gentler world

where songs of joy may be heard each day

a gentler world
where we all

all of us
together

as one

always
always

always
strive to find

that gentler way …

( inspired by Pete Seeger’s “Last Night I had the Strangest Dream” )

http://stopwar.org.uk/music/pete-seeger-last-night-i-had-the-strangest-dream

the air and the flute

the air and the flute …

as air caresses the flute

unseen

leaving not a trace
of itself

gently melodious notes
echo invisibly

fused
by passionate breath mingling with air

unseen

words

Words

tears trickle down
the
bruised cheeks of time

eroding splinters
smothering words

churned out without reason of rhyme

just words

words
now impotent

simple sentences
blurred by tears

though never
ever
blurred by fears!

oh yes!

words defy fear
words repel hate

words are alive

may they  thrive
as we strive

for a more just world
with less tears

less fears

soppy, awfully soppy

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

for rust & marty

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: scented meat

Tears that Drown

why do tears fall
like rain,

slashing, flogging
splintered faces,

drowning in pain

peace | love | uBuntu

muddled morning musings …

        
                        on flimsy whims,
              under tepid prodding,

the heart bleeds,

                               its blood-like tears

          dripping,
         
           soaked up by the waiting earth

The Good Native

may I never bow,
kowtow,

do the jig that’s expected of me,

a wind-up toy,

the good native who knows just how to act, talk,

how to be

barefoot on a talcum beach,
alone, not lonely,

with the breath of the ocean a caressing balm,
soothing pained memories away,

to the swaying of a solitary palm.

barefoot on a talcum beach,
alone, not lonely,

feeling the brushing away of all past turmoil,

on a quest for solace, ever so hard to find,

yet comforted by the crashing of the waves,

as the tide cleanses all pain,

and leaves despair far, far behind.

barefoot on a talcum beach,
alone, not lonely,

drenched in a sea-breeze of mist,

that hushes the ache of bygone moons,

tasting the salty tang on my lips,

as the burnished sun,
over the distant horizon,
swoons,

and dips.

barefoot on a talcum beach,
alone, not lonely,

searching, ever searching,

for a slice of solitude,

as memory bids a final adieu,

reaching under the sea so vast,

and seeking comfort in the depths,

while embracing,

the tomorrows to come,
wishing that they be true.

barefoot on a talcum beach,
alone, not lonely,

seeing my truths drown,

as they slip beneath the turquoise waters,

feeling my heart ablaze,

with a passion that rarely falters.

barefoot on a talcum beach,
alone, not lonely,

yet knowing that I am home at long last,

wishing the waves would wash away,

the defences that once stood,

like an impregnable wall.

barefoot on a talcum beach,
alone, not lonely,

I have found,
at long last,

my final port of call …

Where Wild Grasses Grow …

effortlessly soaring into abandoned flight,

yesterdays’ pain surrenders,,

drawn gently by,

departing moments’ caressing ebb and dreamy flow,

seeking only sanctuary,

to finally rest,

where wild grasses grow …

The Anonymity of the Shade …

beyond words,

mere paltry scribbled verse,

rolls across empty streets,

while today crawls to a fade,

as night descends,

offering comfort,

the solace of anonymous shade …

Day | Night

sweeping the remnants of bygone yesterdays,

under the carpet,

festering,
stewing,
mutating,

time scampers,
whispering lullabies,

teasing slumber,
surrendering to the night,

embracing the cocoon of the dark,

shedding the detritus of the now,

soothing and gentle as the softly departing light …

panning through marshes of  twisted roots,

scrounging for a handful of promised truths,

thawing wounds aching afresh,

discarded emotions gnawing into now catatonic flesh …

we walk on, ever on,

fleeing the tumult of yesterdays sorrow,

we walk on, ever on,

thirsting for a glimpse of that liberating tomorrow,

to finally rid the heaving heart of the weight of the past,

content no more with brief, tenuous ceasefires,

but hungering instead for a peace that shall last …

faultlines …

faultlines …

cleaving through me,

embers flicker,

remnants of half baked verse,

smothered by tomorrows yet to dawn …

scribbled on fragile faultlines,

quills dipped in tears,

clinging onto hope,

tenuous,
fragile,

weaving wishes into tomorrows,

yet to be born …

Frenetic …

Frenetic …

thoughts of you gallop across the rolling savannah of my heart, and I am lost and bound and shackled and torn between what I may have lost and all that I may never have had, and if even for that one fleeting blip of life awakened on the desert wasteland that was my soul, I would choose the latter forever more …

Note: A Typical Example of a Thoroughly Contrived Romantic – Loss themed “Poem” …

looking back …

peering through the butterfly – wings of time,

I see myself,

ever searching for the truths,

to still my vagabond soul:

searching here,
there,

in-between here and everywhere,

till decades flash past,

the toll of maturity bringing with it,

the brutal truth,

that though I had searched here,

there,
and everywhere in-between,

I had failed to see you,

right there,
ever beside me,

and for that alone,

I do owe,

a heartfelt apology,

and,

an immeasurable amount of gratitude,

to thee …

Splinters …

Splinters …

fragments of faded stills,

litter my heart …

trembling lips, that first kiss,

moist cheeks,
sweeping up shards of a broken heart,

torn laughs,
stabbing within,

as splinters of bygone selves,

needle,
jab,

pierce this night,

as scribbled verses seek,

ache,
hunger,

for that sliver of light …

Echoes …

whispers of bygone moons,

tease my dreams.

murmurs of praline yesterdays,

bathe my waking thoughts.

Echoes drift,

undulating, caressing,

pleading,

for the cacophony to be hushed,

as I scribble ever on and on,

and on.

Echoes drift,

healing, renewing,

beseeching,

the raucous tumult,

flowing,
slipping,

yearning for stillness,

away from this jarring day,

seeking solace,

in a million smiles,

smiled along the way …

Hope & Renewal …

Hope & Renewal …

1.

Hidden beneath life’s undergrowth,

a flower blooms,

amidst  thorns,

a whiff of beauty wafts over desolate spaces,

deep in the thicket of my heart,

where wounds are raw,

and the world is merely a blur of worn-down faces.

2.

The solitary flower strains towards the light,

in the dim bleakness of unnamed woes,

it’s fragility,

innocence distilled,

pristine,

simple,

natural,
healing,
renewing,

reaching between the open wounds,

of this splintered heart,

caressing my soul,

with a faint murmur of promise.

3.

Hidden beneath life’s undergrowth,

life stirs,

whistling melodies,
healing my shattered heart,

offering comfort,
solace,

peace,

a wounded peace,
while gathering the pieces,

an elusive, wily peace,

yet tangible,

alive!

breathing!

Breathing life back,

as pain flees,

and as,

numbness ceases…

afzaljhb@gmail.com

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

The Solitary Depth of Night

In the solitary depth of night,

as dreams whisper forgotten lies,

memories murmur,
desires nibble,
passions simmer,

between the embers,
of sweetly burnt eyes.

As dawn’s breath cascades,

skimming over the borders of my hapless heart,

my eyes finally surrendering to slumber, peaceful and deep,

leaving me,

to dream of you,

dreaming,  asleep.

For Tony Benn (1925 – 2014)

For Tony Benn
( 1925 – 2014 )

You have not passed silently into the coming night,

your conscience towers above the brittle edifice of capital and of greed,

for as long as there remain hungry mouths to feed,

your soul is enmeshed within our collective whole.

You have not passed silently into the coming night.

Your battle is done,

the war!

the war is far from won!

So we pick up your scarlet standard,

and we continue to rattle the foundations at No. 10,

though today,

today,

we pause,

today we say,

‘Hamba Kahle’*,

to you,

our comrade,

our leader,

our towering ‘Big Benn’.

for Anthony Neil Wedgwood “Tony” Benn.

(3 April 1925 – 14 March 2014)

* – ‘Hamba Kahle’ means ‘go well’ in isiXhosa/isiZulu

Afloat on the River

Afloat on the rivers of life,

rootless at times,‎

bogged down in the mire,

at times a lonesome twig cast into the depths of despair,

a vagabond sans destination, sans care. ‎

The tides have washed me,

hither and thither,

never knowing where I would finally rest,

till you held my heart in your tender hands,

clasping it closer to your breast. ‎


All the while gentle ripples have steered me away from desolation,

breathing new purpose,

igniting fresh promise,

reaching around me,
enveloping my soul,

oh yes, ’tis you,

who has carried me through. 

It is only now that I know,

you are the river upon which I sail,

your love the wind at my back,

your presence a comforting respite from the detritus of the shallows,

while quietly you carry me,

towards the passionate streams of the lagoon,

rescuing me,

liberating my heart,

from the noose of the once omnipresent  gallows…

 

The Cauldron of Desire

Inflamed by my wildly fiery desire,

I kiss the fluttering petals of your soft, sumptuous lips.

I tease you,

my ravenous tongue sipping the glistening, molten drops of alluring morning dew.

Inflamed by my wildly fiery desire,

I make love to you,

in my dreams of passion,

my dreams of sensual seduction,

dreams of our erotic confluence,

painting, sketching, dousing my dreams in colours of my naked desire:

burnished copper-red.

scorching scarlet-rose.

achingly beautiful crimson.

Inflamed by my wildly fiery desire,

I dream of you,

dreaming of making sweet, agonisingly delicious love to me,

and in this dreamscape of irresistible vistas,

I see your face.

And I dream,

I dream of you and I entwined in ecstatic bliss,

and together we find the place,

the only place we passionately ache to be:

in each others’ arms.

Eternally.

Pastel Skies

Morning rushes in, perched atop a blanket of dawn’s dreamy clouds,

and,

dew drops caress petals in the garden of roses, nestled inside this caravan-serai that is life,

and,

night shuffles, fading gently away, as a symphony of bird-song bids the darkness adieu,

while the promise of kisses yet to be savoured, spreads it’s wings soaring  to a welcome embrace, under these skies of painted-pastel blue …

The Paths we Weave

The Paths we Weave …

Walking alone,

on these meandering paths this life weaves,

weathering the nudges and the tugs of destiny and of fate,

I have walked alone for many a mile,

but not today,

for today,

I weave through alleyways of solitude,

rinsing my cobwebbed memories,

seeking to steer my path,

gently,

so that this pathway of life may lead me to you,

where my only hope is that I am not too late,

as I place my soul at your hearts’ gate …

In your Eyes #5

may your gentle all-embracing warmth,

be forever by your side,

and may you always walk the soft beaches of destiny, at the coming in of the tide …

May life shower you with love and laughter and truth and peace and health,

as your generosity of spirit remains a wellspring of your ceaseless human wealth.

May your dreams be boundless as they soar through hopeful skies,

the hopeful skies that I see,

in the chocolatey universe of whipped cream delights,

that reside,

swirling,

in your beautiful eyes …

life, love, & sweetly aching blues …

caught red-handed,

stealing moments,

a mere nanosecond,

of hastily borrowed time …

I stand accused,

of a past,

pockmarked by shrapnel skidding off the many alleyways of life …

I plead guilty,

naked and stripped bare,

engaged in a duel with destiny and time,

wasting,

&

wasting away,

scribbling verses in the sand,

devoid of an iota of life’s maddening,

&

Irresistibly seductive rhyme …

Choosing to be Human…

We may choose,

to trudge down life’s pathways alone,

barricading our fragile hearts,

behind ramparts of stone…

We may choose,

to stow our emotions away,

shielding our weary souls,

from the promises of a new day …

We may choose,

to never be hurt again,

safely enveloping our fatigued selves,

tucked away from loves’ pleasures and its pain …

or,

we may choose to be human,

leaping into the cauldron of countless unborn tomorrows,

inviting loves’ soothing balm,

and perhaps,

caressing  away a few of our lonesome sorrows …

and so,

we shall choose to be human,

lowering the defences hewn from bitter experiences pummelled with pain,

as we welcome love into the deepest recesses of our being,

nourishing each other while gently letting go of yesteryears’ stinging pain. 

Who am I?

Who am I?

Seeking absolution, I wander the alleyways of times gone by,

awash with wasted regrets, I crawl into the yawning crevasse,

clutching at straws as merciless time takes to the sky.

Drenched in the reeking stench of wrongs I cannot undo,

I scurry blindly through the maze,

seeking pain to convince myself that today’s reality is true.

Torn to shreds, my tattered mind bobs, weaves and swerves,

my fingers clawing at the jangled knots of my frayed nerves.

When does the moulting of skin cease,

crumpling dreams floating away with each passing breeze.

Shattered hearts lie mortally wounded, unable to mend,

washed-up and washed-out, cast into a palace of indifference,

no enemies to be found here, swallowed up by pity, my perennially faithfull friend.

Who am I,

this shuffling carcass of flesh and bone,

enclosed in a fortress,

a prisoner by choice,

behind my impregnable walls of stone.

Who I am,

matters little as I count the hours of each frigid night,

as my salvation rests,

in the tomorrows yet to come,

while I refuse to surrender to the darkness,

for as long as I can see,

the faintest glimmer,

of hope’s flickering light

A Time Before This

Night creeps slowly in, easing through melted walls,
where random trysts quiver under a silver moon.

Numberless promises, oaths taken,
vows made only to be shattered,
into slivers of trust,
with each sliver swirling down,
into gutters filled with unheard cries.

Keeping your eyes open, wishing you were less pliant,
knowing that history rests on the other side,
where emotions are weapons,
where words are knives,
and soft caresses can wound,
where kisses can suffocate, where every dark shadow conjures up a melody woefully out of tune.

A life in limbo,
walking forward into a past of regrets,
fleeing the now while sipping on a bruised lip, draining foul images,
wiping away lingering doubts,
as you try to shriek,
hearing all nostalgia being snuffed out,
rattled by an exhausted love,
no longer tender whispers, more often than not vile disfiguring shouts.

Enough of self-pity,
to hell with introspection,
be gone idle moments,
mute nights,
tear-stained pillows, banishing it all to the other side,
while reclaiming what you once were deep inside, innocent and true,
naïve as ever,
when starry-eyed you listened,
believed,
all his promises that love would last forever.

Remember who that was, that brave question,
that sure answer,
remember that wide-eyed traveller,
that willing listener,
remember the smiling reflection in the mirror,
once free of pain,
of gloom.

Remember who you were,
to become who you must be,
and avert an imminent fast-approaching doom

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