compassionate capitalism 101.
stemming the loss
dripping red
arterial spray
dripetty-drip
amidst anaesthetised shades
of souls once alive
now
dancing under pale moonlight
pausing only for cauterisation
sterilisation
of too many wounds
the
dripetty-drip ceases
consciences lobotomised
and as it has been
and as it is now
and as it may be
the
numb faces
tango deeper
into the hollowness
the cacophonous void
now
signed and sealed
of deals done
and
souls sold on
profitable leases.
Port of Call Redux aka Pretentious-ness-ness …
sailing between
sprinkled kisses
sipped
savoured
under swaying moonlight
bathed by whispering palms
on that talcum beach
that talcum-powder beach forever drenched by the rivers of my dreams
and
the open seas of parched memories
famished souls
soiled by desperation
hearing nothing
nothing at all
but the vultures ravenous call …
… so come on, dear friend, take my hand in yours ( metaphorically speaking if nothing else ) and let’s walk back to that talcum caressed beach of dreams
because
with you it is all
and without you
still
and
always
and
perhaps forever more
in some quiet corner
deep within the core of your heart
shall always be
deeply anchored
my very all
my final port of call
_________________
Port of Call
http://tinyurl.com/ochvfq9
scribbles & rhymes
kind words
skewered over baking cobblestones
littering the streets of shameful cries
all caught in frozen sunlight
catatonic amidst cavernous avenues
as
silenced screams echo across each thorny boulevard …
traversing rivers of tears drowned in an ocean of fears
choked by the noose bound tight held captive by endless night
walking and walking
between pillars of apathy veiled behind doors of hollow solace
trampling consciences deadened by malice dripping blood from a golden chalice
into the reeking sewers of feigned morality where it’s all about the deals that get struck
while we eat drink buy
f**k
ps: to skewer a line from the film ‘Apocalypse Now’,
‘ we drop napalm on children and yet we can’t use the word “fuck” because that’s obscene ‘
Who Killed the Marikana Miners?*
who killed the miners at Marikana?
definitely not the executive
nor the executives
far removed from the grime
and the slime
Who killed the miners at Marikana?
not the Prez
and not even the Press for a change
strange
so who killed the miners at Marikana?
the unions perhaps
or the errant miner
led astray
in that obscene demand for better pay
who killed the miners at Marikana?
not armed cops,
firing bullets of lead into the back of the head
execution-style it’s been said
who killed the miners at Marikana?
it seems no one can be found
as bodies decompose deep under gold dust ground
while families grieve
there
ain’t no one around to take the fall
so
who killed the Marikana Miners?
no one
no one at all
* inspired by the protest song “Who Killed Davey Moore”, a topical song written in 1963 by American folk singer/songwriter Bob Dylan.
kleptocratic ungovernance …
the 1%.
snouts deep,
buried alive,
all conscience excised,
seeking more,
always seeking more.
the 99%.
shrivelled shadows,
tucked away under underpasses,
seeking enough,
always seeking just enough.
Scribbled Verse 