Tag Archive: relationships


let us kiss


Artwork from Google



let us kiss …




let us kiss, deep and slow, in our long African night, beneath this carpet of stars, bathed in hues of soft light, far away from the clamour of each day, to our very own place where palm trees sashay and sway, far from the echoes of pain, to be washed pure by our African rain, so come with me, let us be free, leaving it all behind, to be, to simply be … 



Artwork from Google

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“Billie Holiday” by Banksy




quasi-philosophical scribble …




whispers echo,

stumbling, crawling,


caught in sandstorms,


trudging across deserts,

strewn with famished hearts,


staying afloat,

somehow,

ceaselessly bashed by merciless tides,


gasping for breath,

deep in oceans of misplaced tears,


ever wary of tomorrow,

as another dawn nears,


carrying the scars,

scabs still unhealed,

raw,


souls battered,

sliced by the elements,


fate, destiny,


while,

free smiles are caged,

remaining shackled,


mangled,

through myriad threads,

hopelessly entangled,


here, now, today,


drowning out the whispers of hope,


love reigned in,

back to now,


away from placid streams,

far from sunsoaked dreams,


to awake back here,

without you by my side,


as years shamble on,

exhausting my weary eyes,


dripping blood,

shedding tears,


with nowhere,

nowhere at all,


left to hide …




Artwork from Google




faded photographs …




polished floors, paint dripping from fresh walls, tiles laid, house and home sparkling … 


souls desolate, hearts unbeating, smiles jaded, ruffling through photographs,


now packed away someplace,


forgotten,

faded …




Artwork from Google

A few more Days

Artwork from Google




a few more days … … …




as the branch of the oak sashays,

solitary palms undulate, and sway,


i count the days,

till i feel your loving gaze,

your soul, your heart ablaze,


i count the days,

till our separate ways,

dispel the haze,


i count the days,

when seeing you will make my eyes with desire glaze,


i count the days,

mattering not what cards fate plays,


i count the days,

till destiny’s highways,

merge, embracing the sun’s scorching rays,


for as awake this man lays,

the need, the hunger, the desire aching and ravenous, stays,


as i think of you,

counting the days,


until our seduced souls through the night skies blaze,


i count on you,

counting the days,


when the need for each other whisperingly says,


for you, i have crested the waves,


knowing my hunger for you may be a craze,


a craze that shall abide, firmly rooted, in nights and in days,


as i remain still,

counting these remaining moments, for you my being entire craves,


i lie awake,

counting the days,


lying awake, counting these minutes, these days … … 



Artwork from Google

Artwork from Google




I am the Heartbeat of Africa …




I am the heartbeat of Africa. The blood flowing through its veins, and I have seen much. I have witnessed the the pummelling of peoples under the jackboot of colonialism, the plunder of wealth, stripping bare the very veins I flow through. I have urged the collective to stand tall, amidst the horrors of history. It has not been easy, the tyranny of centuries has left scars, raw scabby festering sores, my thumping scarlet oozing out of myriad pores, rendering the great continent pained, hollow … but still, and yet, I course inside millions of souls, refusing to capitulate, thick with hopes for the day and the days after the day. I have placated the wounded, the multitudes forgotten, the bodies seeking respite from the loss, the anger, the deprivation of spirits undimmed by the splintered darkness of racial prejudice. I have seen so much, children torn from loving embraces, mothers holding on, as the world turns its face away, conveniently absolving itself of its crimes. I have felt the hardening of arteries, the will to fight on, despite the overwhelming odds.


yes, I am the blood of Africa. 


and I shall continue to flow, coaxing my people to rise again, to summon up the valiant spirits of the ancestors, to stand and to fight against the insidious doublespeak of tongues, silken tongues peddling instruments of death, shunning the divides that separate one from another, to rise and greet the fresh blazing African sun, each day, every day, until that day when the daily battles cease, when the battles are done. 


yes, I am the blood of Africa, and I shall flow ever on, sowing hope where desolation stalks the evenings, I am hope for tomorrows dawn, for despite and inspite of it all, the new day of peace, of renewed hope, must be, must be born …




Artwork from The Nelson Mandela Foundation

Artwork from Google



I am Hope …




I am the hope that soars, high above our shared African lands – a hope that skips over rainbows, the hope that trudges over the horrors of yesterday.


I am hope, smiling through tears that stain the soil, the hope that echoes across the valleys and plains, I am the hope of days to come.


I am hope, thud-thudding in countless hearts, lost at times amidst the detritus of history. 


I am hope.


embrace me, do not turn me away, hug me as I yearn to hug you. cherish me as I do you.


I am hope. I will prevail …




From Google

Artwork by Banksy




a child of war and terror …


 


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,




blood soaking it the colour of cherries her mother buys.




 






as she lies bleeding,




she sees human shapes all around, thick in the 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,




even in death she bleeds some more,




shrapnel wedged in her torn stomach,




stealing the light from her bright innocent eyes.








as she lies bleeding …






in jallianwala bagh in ‘19,


johannesburg in ’93,


leningrad in ‘42,


freetown in ‘98,


soweto in ‘76,


beirut in ‘85,


hanoi in ‘68,




st. bernadino,


manchester,


baghdad,


brussels,


london,


tel aviv,


tripoli,


miami,


jenin,


paris,


kabul,


raqqa,


basra,


mosul,


gaza,






aleppo still,

ghouta now.



 




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,




a child of war and terror …





Artwork by Banksy

love if you dare



love if you dare …



warm of heart, yes indeed,

luscious sparkling eyes, so difficult to read,


tender, kind, a generosity of spirit radiating gentle care towards species fragile,


with a dryness of humour that will forever make you smile,


almost impossibly irresistible,

elegant, classy, beautiful, attractive, sexy, sensually alluring, and oh so much more,


with wild beauty,

from the sunkissed beaches of Mandela bay, wind-swept Havana way,

sweltering nights of Polokwane far away,


this whole wide world and more:


that’s enough – geography can be a bore.



Now this person you most certainly know,


like an ocean of desire that perennially shall flow,


the mystery is before you, dear friend, so good luck to you all,


may your sherlockian deduction not hit a brick wall,


but friend, know this well, that in those beautiful eyes you may willingly drown,


wishing to never see, on that gorgeous face, even the hint of a frown,


and so,



the clues are here and there,

a quarter here, and there,


her name is ?


take a chance,

live a little,

love a lot if you dare …



 

Artwork from Google



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.



Artwork from Google



Dr. Martin Luther King Jr.

(January 15 1929 – April 4 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 …




artwork from google

The Autobiography – coming soon!





talkin’ born to run springsteen blues … …





i have lost myself,

so often,

tripping over the tangled barbs,

here and there and everywhere i have been,


splintering me more,

each time we hauled ass,


and where once i tried to sew myself whole,


now i know,

sure,


all the random trivia,

a bit of this


but not much of much at all,


that’s the truth,

and i’ll stick to it,

go ahead,

haul me up against the wall,


but now, you see,

that now i see a little more,

cutting deep to the core,


i’ve been putting on a show,

playing the part,

cowardly,

callow,


hollow,

empty,

blind-mans bowl,


and chillingly,

effortlessly,

almost now,


clanging on,

the same old song,

the tired old dance,


but then again having strutted once,

puffy,

conceited ego,

once,


and since i have been humbled,


many times since,

this old shell has had some touch-up, and some paint,


but still,

typecast,

twisted,

playing the sad old role,


vagabond castaway,

misfit whatever,

neither here nor there,


and not that i don’t,

(pretend, at leas) to care,


i am tired of the perennial fare,


this endless fair,


playing the skin i shed yesterday,


slipping into my new skin today,


vaulting myself high,

perched up,

on the mantle,


tucked away,

between suburban pomposity,

and expected holier-than-thouness,


but now after all these years,

and after all these miles and after all these tears,


i think i am able to get through the times,

when my burden of sins,


keeps kicking me in the shins,


because one thing i know is what you said,


what you said, man, was true,


i remember it was during one of your pre-song talk-in/intro/philosophical detours on that never-ending highway,


i remember it time and time,

i’ll remember it always,

again and again,


each time i’m kicked in the shins,


remember, you said,


“… remember, in the end, no one wins unless everyone wins.”




The Big Man and The Boss

Artwork from Google




talkin’ johannesburg city blues …





alone in this teeming city, surrounded by souls gone cold, we weathered the storms that lashed, we absorbed the barbed words that slashed, harsh times when dinner plates were empty, huddling close, feeling as desolate as the solitary rose, still we made it through, we held on to each other, knowing our love was true, we found work and we slogged till dawn, our only wish was for a kinder fate to be born, we have waited a while for those dreams to come to pass, shredding our hopes like shards of glass, was this the hope that drove us here, to share this single room, in a city of ugly gaudy tinsel meant to smother the gloom, this was not our dream, not mine nor yours, when we embarked on our seemingly never ending course, to build a life hewn from the promise of a better tomorrow, well we have waited through morrow after morrow, we are waiting still, for the fates to be kinder, to keep away the frigid winter chill …




Artwork from Google

Artwork from Google





talkin’ heartbreak blues …





jingling and a-jangling between insipid day and fungal night, rumbling from those spirituals of yore, in a time way yonder back before, you pirouetted into my days and my nights, when pain was felt, though never this deep, this raw, that rotten gnaw deep in my core, compelling me to scribble this scribble, as i hyperventilate and as my broken mouth begins to dribble, these sentences, these words, these empty noises, barren drums, calling out, since you left, rendering me mutely bereft, just words, barren drums calling out to you, wherever you are and whoever you are today, now …




Artwork from Google

talkin’ self-indulgent blues

Artwork from Google






talkin’ self-indulgent blues






I’m talkin’ self-indulgent blues,

ramblin’ and a-rolling along,

on cobblestones,

here and there along the alleyways of this life,


seeking not much,

as such,


a few scattered smiles,

after all the miles,

more open roads, less clogged strife,


caravan-serais of hope,

of peace,

where the din briefly does cease,


where simple ways,

of bygone days,


seem cooler than the respite of the shade,

as ages pale,


and as words fade,


I’m still a-walkin’ alone,

flotsam and jetsam blurring my eyes,


as sand gets kicked and the dust flies,

my heart thrashed against cold stone,


while the mirage persists,

the promise of free skies,


still,

just there,

within reach,


slipping further into myself,

as the floodgates breach,


so don’t worry about me no more,


I’m still a-ramblin’ and a-rolling,


and know this too,

for it be true,


it is you,

who remains,


after moulted skin falls,

when the closing walls,

squeeze my straightjacket,


threatening to seal my fate,

into a vacuum-shrunk packet,


no, don’t worry about me no more,

my head is upright,

though my soul may be sore,


but I’m still a-ramblin’ and a-rollin’,


with you,


immersed deep in my core,

forever more … …




Artwork from Google

Album cover from Google




talkin’ walkin’ along bobby dylan bluesy blues …




Why does the sun dry up so many scattered tears



Slipping down the coarse cheek of a million hushed fears



Where no one is scalded though the searing fog clears



While prayers are mutely spoken even as the end nears



We shatter and scrape on demented knees



Blindly begging for mercy as it silently flees



Searching listlessly for salvation drowned in the breeze



That spits at the soft rose suffocated by a wheeze



I know now what I need never have known



Of hope that was trampled before it had flown



Into a wasted sky filled with hate that could drown



The giggling of the crowd and the crying of the clown



A hope so fragile its wings were of brittle glass



Ripping the veneer off the sewers of class



Twisting the fabric of the weighed and costed mass



Who numbly waited hoping that it too may pass



For when shards of that hope in all hearts scurries away



To a darkness where crowded night is emptied off the heaving tray



’Tis then when sewn eyes behold that doleful day



When all shall tear at each other while on demented knees we still pray



For a lifting of the veil of that wilful deceit



That’s wrapped up in a flag swollen with conceit



While the limbs splinter in the claw of a winner’s defeat



Yet still the drums roll for the ill-fated souls chose never to retreat



From that drenched battleground where blood flows through a sieve



And love’s lost song plaintively begs for a reprieve



From eternal loss which into raw emotion does cleave



Only to slip through the fingers and like grains of sand leave …





( for Bob Dylan )



Book cover from Google

Art by Banksy




talkin’ why hope is important bluesy-blues … … …




… … … this scribble is about hope, that unweighable weighty word, often bandied about ritually, and thus its message, its voice, may be blunted by repetitive bluster, so i’ll be a-scribblin’ along, with all the gusto i may muster, since we’re talking about hope, without which the human race, us all, all of us, i dare say, would not cope, ’cause imagine an absence of something, you can’t put your finger on that feeling feeling, that oftentimes rocks at our souls, leavin’ our minds reelin’, yeah that’s right, but no propagandising today, though with me, at least, i can truly say, were it not for hope, that figment, blister on indifferent fates’ machinations, that belief, that burning in the pit of ones core, gnawing, gnashed teeth muttering, that all this pain too must eventually, pale, and that’s whats a-sometime the reason for us being heartful, and or hale, its hope, raw, deceptive, lyin’, corrosive, rusted but a-shineyed up, yeah that hope that keeps my heart pumping, its that hope that keeps me alive, and its that hope upon which, may all new flowers thrive …




Picasso’s Dove of Peace (from google)

Artwork from Google



talkin’ cynical self-absorbed lovey-dovey blues …




All those hazy moons ago, when we slept in each others arms, when we felt we were blessed, wearing those 24-carat gold matching lucky charms,


we who knew the paradise that lay ahead, the glitterati loving us – the perfect couple, who were hotter than blazing hot in bed.




All those sunshiney days of way back when, we kissed deep, our chakras aligned so in-tunely bloody zen, sinking into the obliviousness, the vacuum that was our entire universe

 then,


unaware of all else, of anyone around us as we breezed through life, floating past it all, lost in a marshmallow haze, as we sank deeper into our carefree daze.




Kisses and caresses, ensconced in our selfish crevasses, not giving a hoot, as long as you reeked of french perfume, as long as I showed-off my obscenely expensive silk suit,


as long as we valentined and new yeared ever on, blinded to the real world and all that was wrong, just so that we disappeared in each others eyes,


never sparing a thought about this, our earth, our world, as we trapezed by the multitudes, the throng,


where we should really, for heavens sakes, be simply human,


and to at least, at the very least, try to belong …




Artwork from Google




talkin’ racism shattered unblues … 







walking along these roads one day,


i met a stranger with much to say.


the stranger and i sat down to dine,


sharing each others crumbs and water under the warm sunshine,


we got to talking about our lives as such,


and as strangers do at first we didn’t say much,


but the warm sunshine and the delicious crumbs of food we shared,


moved us to talk and slowly to each other our souls we bared,


we were not alike, in every possible conventional norm,


yet as we chatted we felt a kindred spirit begin to form,


it matters not who the stranger was, it matters not the stranger’s race and religion and caste and tribe,


as we spoke for hours of this world, these differences amplified by those who feed off hate, the poisoned chalice of apartheidness we were continually given to imbibe,


we spoke of common travails, of the woes that assail us, of the troubles and joys of walking the different paths we chose to walk,


we shared the solace of our common humanity, a feeling of being one with another human being, as we for long whiles sat in enveloping silence, with no need to talk,


we sang the songs of where we came from, we whistled so many of our unique and different tunes,


as the knots of being human were binding us together, soaring over the savanna, the prairies, the oceans, the mountains, and the dusty dunes,


we laughed and we reflected, we acknowledged the sadness all of us humans share, of the thorns and the nettles, each of us talking of our personal pain,


as our cheeks streamed with tears in the coolness of a gentle passing shower of rain,


we knew not each others language, we merely spoke and cried and sang and shared as we ate from our chipped weatherbeaten plate,


we could not understand each others words, yet we understood more than we ever could, banishing the intolerance, the racism, and we doused the furnace of hate,


the stranger and i soon parted ways, with a smile and handshake and a warm tight  hug,


and as i walked away, i felt so much lighter, no longer feeling the need for all the baggage i used to lug.




the stranger and i shared one of the rarest thing i could ever find,


stripping away the colour of our skin, the gods we prayed to, the different shapes of our features, the things that in this world separate us, yes, we left all of that behind,


if only for an instant, if only for some hours spent together on our home, this earth, our common ground, our shared space …



… if only for an instant, if only for some hours spent together on our home, this earth, our common ground, our shared space,


one world,



one human race …



Artwork from Google



talkin’ whatever-comes-to-mind bluesy blues …




wearing different skins, having being kicked down at the shins,


i walk on, fearless.



when this cruel world stabs me, slicing me with the pain of the thousands cuts,


i walk on, fearless.



hearing all the barbed words, smashing against my core,


i walk on, fearless.



when they tell me that i am a loser, devoid of the trappings of luxury,


i walk on, fearless.



when fate deals me rotten cards, and i feel like i am walking on jagged glass shards,


i walk on, fearless.



if you kick me down into the dirt, i will stand again, despite the hurt,


i walk on, fearless.



even when all seems desolate, and everything feels lost, i will weather the winters, dusting off the frost,


i walk on, fearless.



when this glittering world of plastic smiles savage me, i shall smile knowing i am free,


i walk on, fearless.



whether i am man or woman, i will no longer bear the brunt of your twisted words, and your cowardly fists,


i walk on, fearless.



when you strike me across my face, because the food is cold, i shall no longer be bludgeoned by your impotent macho fist, i shall resist,


i walk on, fearless.




when we stand up and take individual stands, we shall outnumber you, and we shall make our demands,


we shall walk on, fearless.



when we rise up together as one, we shall not rest till our daily battles are won,


we shall walk on, fearless.



when you realise you have no hold over us today, we shall combat your misogyny, we shall have our say,


we shall walk on, fearless.



while your guns and and bombs rain down upon us, our children will defy you, and we shall hold onto what we know to be true,


we shall walk on, fearless.



when the slavery of millennia we shall no longer take, you shall fall to your knees, in your shoes you shall quake,


we shall walk on, fearless. 



when your anachronistic norms of culture, of religion, of tradition we shall fight, we shall do so knowing the battles to be right,


we shall walk on, fearless.



when we no longer scrounge for scraps of your leftover feasts, we shall move forward, for this struggle never retreats,


we shall walk on, fearless.



when we shall no longer sweat it out in your factories of labels and brands, we shall rebuild our lives with our hardened bare hands,


we shall walk on, fearless. 



when your wage-slavery and your greed we shall topple till your very foundations shake, we shall hold the line, for our resolve you will never break,


we shall walk on, fearless.



we shall no longer let our daughters and sons be sent to fight your wars, we shall not spill our bloody to stock your designer stores,


we shall walk on, fearless. 



we shall no longer be trampled because of caste, tribe, religion, or sexual orientation, we shall strive in all our lands, to bring to birth a kinder nation,


we shall walk on, fearless. 



we shall pull off the blinkers so many wear, we shall counter their aggression, if they should dare,


we shall walk on, fearless. 



we shall wrest the control from your greedy paws, we shall attempt to heal the planet, rewriting your stale anti-pollution laws,


we shall walk on, fearless. 



we shall arrive at those crossroads quite soon, so sup as much as you can from your silver and gold spoon,


we shall walk on, fearless.



this is our collective threat and challenge to all of you, whose greed knows no end, we stand upright, we shall not bend,


we shall walk on, fearless.



so be under notice that we are rising, and in rising we shall slay,


the endless wars, the corporate greed, the religious oppression, the imperial plan, the shackles of culture and tradition, the scourge of abuse and misogyny,


so be warned, for yes we are rising to all these demons say,


to shape a new world, a less cruel, and more equitable and just and peaceful day …




Artwork from Google

Artwork from Google




incoherent (like life) …




… slipping through empty breaths sliding down on bent knees scraping raw flesh against cold skin hollow kisses falling to the desolate floor swept up discarded trashed recycled churned out strewn littered alongside barricaded hearts yearning to feel again to touch to taste to ache to be human once more to know to believe that one can feel that one can hear and see and dig beneath the veneer of sophisticated tinny smiles flinging around casually barbed words meant to jab gnawing at the core of all that makes us human the sting of tears the taste of salt the dripping red bleeding off roses in quaint gardens pruned to perfection yet dead inside numbed into comfortable complacency as the world turns threatening the linearity of time that prays for returns while this heart this soul this being within the cauldron of palpable loss simply burns …




Artwork from Google

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