Tag Archive: Socialism

we THE people

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


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.”


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*



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,


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,


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

in the deep

Artwork from Google

in the deep …

flailing, thrashing for gulps of air, when well-meaning words ricochet, and emotions in the deep lay,

when one is yanked into the chasm of the deep, blankly staring at the ceiling, chasing fleeing sleep,

alone, with misfiring neurons coaxing, inviting, paving alleys for gloom to slowly seep, when pangs of emptiness deeper still, begin to creep,

sleep vanishes, ushering waking nightmares in, a jangling discord of the day, the night, and of yesterdays din,

one reaches for slivers of hope, the double edged scimitar of life, the jagged rawness of seemingly unending strife,

ah but seeing a solitary shard, the lifeline of coarse hope, the being entire reaches out, digging in fingers to get a foothold, on that slippery slope,

and as dawn approaches, gently ushering in day from night, one feels renewed, rejuvenated, in the soft glow of morning light,

for it is the fragile strands of the new morn, keeping darkness at bay, nestling petals with the dew of hope, against the odds, 

welcoming new life,

banishing the pangs of emptiness away …


Artwork from Google

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


Artwork from Google

timing …

aren’t we all

at times …




deliriously happy










at times? right.

your timing is intolerable‘, she used to say …

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

she said …

Artwork from Google

she said that she had seen them all.

the promise-makers, the vow and oath-takers, the silken tongued smooth talkers, the quiet intense brooders.

she asked me if I could love her. truly love her.

I said that I would spend our lives trying.

it’s enough‘, she said.

Artwork from Google

“Petals of love” by Marisa R Ng – Artwork from Google

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




when hope

seems vacant

an empty space



yet safe

in moments like those

is when





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

“Petite Petals V” by Konstantin Savchenko – Artwork from Google

When we Kissed

Artwork from Google

When we Kissed …

​when you kissed me, our tongues waltzed in symphonic harmony,

teasing the crescendos as we sipped ambrosia in our tango of passion.

when we made love, our bodies fused, in singular unison,

the sweat mingled with the desire to soak in as much of the nectar of love.

when we walked, hand in hand, the powdery beach beneath our feet, 

we became one with nature, our love a testament to the unison of complete surrender.

when we spoke of times past, and tomorrows yet to dawn,

we felt the tug of kindred spirits, so elusive until now.

when we gazed into each others eyes, 

we felt ourselves drowning in a maelstrom of unquenchable togetherness.

when we kissed again, and again, as we do now,

we bask in the sunlight, of a love impossible to explain,

a love that weathered the seasons, the coming of autumn,

through life’s pain, and through the slicing barrage of fate’s icy rain …

Artwork from Google

Comrade Nelson Mandela meeting my mother after 27 years – Sweden 1990

Comrade Nelson Mandela’s letter of condolence to my father on the day my mother passed away

a bit about my family …


with Comrade Winnie Mandela, sharing with me stories of my mum and her – who often worked together in the 50s and 60s and were comrades

The Women …

(for the countless women, names unknown, who bore the brunt of Apartheid, and who fought the racist system at great cost to themselves and their families, and for my mother, Zubeida Moolla)

Pregnant, your husband on the run,
your daughter just a child, a few years old,

they hauled you in, these brutish men,
into the bowels of Apartheid’s racist hell.

They wanted information, you gave them nothing,

these savage men, who skin just happened to be lighter,

and White was right in South Africa back then.

You did not cower, you stood resolute,

you, my mother, faced them down, their power,

their ‘racial superiority’, their taunts, their threats.

You, my mother, would not, could not break,

You stood firm, you stood tall.

You, like the countless mothers did not break, did not fall.

You told me many things, of the pains, the struggles,

the scraping for scraps,

the desolation of separation
from your beloved children,

by monstrous Apartheid, by brutish men,

whose skin just happened to be lighter.

You told me many things, as I grew older,

of the years in exile, of the winters that grew ever colder.

You were a fighter, for a just cause,
like countless other South African women,

you sacrificed much, you suffered the pangs,

of memories that cut into your bone, your marrow,

you resisted a system, an ideology, brutal and callous and narrow.

Yes, you lived to see freedom arrive, yet you suffered still,

a family torn apart, and struggling to rebuild a life,

all the while, nursing a void, that nothing could ever fill.

I salute you, mother, as I salute the nameless mothers,

the countless sisters, daughters, women of this land, who fought, sacrificing it all by taking a moral and principled and valiant stand.

I salute you, my mother, and though you have passed, your body interred in your beloved South African soil,

you shall remain, within me, an ever-present reminder,

of the cost of freedom, the struggles, the hunger, the toil.

I salute you!

Viva the undying spirit of the women Viva!

(for the brave women of South Africa, of all colours,
who fought against racial discrimination and Apartheid)

Comrade Nelson Mandela and my father – sometime in the 1950s

Artwork from Google

Hand in Hand …

take my hand‘, she said, as we walked on splintered glass,

we are together, braced for all that may come to pass‘,

we walk hand in hand today too,

traversing this world, that is often cold and untrue …

Artwork from Google

i stand alone

Johannesburg sunset – photograph from google

i stand alone. 


i stand alone, though never lonely,

she rests within me, and ’tis with  her i long to be.

i stand alone,

though hardly disconsolate,

she sprinkles colour deep within me, a dazzling rainbow for me to see.

i stand alone,

at rest and with hope,

her soul caressing my edginess, her memory a soothing balm helping me to cope.

i stand alone,

her heart a part of mine,

our emotions are one, bound by tight twine.


i do not stand alone, for we stand side by side,

our love in tune, with the coming in of the tide …

Johannesburg skyline – artwork frkm google

Artwork from Google

missing you …

in times, lonely, alone,

in moments of raucous cacophony,

during radiant sunshine,

in the depths of coldness all around,

thoughts of you,

memories of you, abide,

cleansing my soul, my heart, my being entire,

scorched by a yearning, an ache of desire,

washing across me,

engulfed by the incoming tide,

yet the furnace rages,

fuelled by the warmth of your overwhelming fire …

Artwork from Google

Artwork from Google

late-night meanderings …



vivid memories


depths of your eyes

the brush of your hair

the fragrance of your smile …

… snap-shots

    oil on canvas


 of you

keeping me company

along the roads



alleys of hope






                  mile …

Artwork from Google

Artwork from Google

Pandit-Ji* – A Poem for Jawaharlal Nehru.

(November 14th 1889 – May 27th 1964)



The moon cast an enveloping shadow over the teeming multitudes,

as they made their tryst with destiny**,

with you as the bearer of the light,

and at the stroke of the midnight hour,

you emerged an icon, from the long and desolate night.

Long years had passed,

since those humid evenings spent,

languishing in jail,

yet your mind remained unshackled,

putting words on paper in the dim candlelight,

as the gaudy glare of empire began to pale.



you live,

within us,

though not amongst us,


your discovery***,

your glimpses***,

smoulder within me,

your immortal words,

my compass.

I am now,

the soul of nations,

once suppressed,

that have,

found utterance**.

I am now,


I am now,


free …


* – ‘Pandit-Ji’ was the name that Jawaharlal Nehru, the first Prime Minister of independent India, was respectfully called.

** – excerpts from Jawaharlal Nehru’s “Tryst with Destiny” speech on 15th August 1947.

*** – two of the few books written by Nehru – “Glimpses of World History” and “The Discovery of India

Quote from Google

dreams fade

Artwork from Google

dreams fade …

dreams fade,

eventually slithering


pale fogginess.

years recycle years,

grinding down shellshocked lives.

merely more raw

fodder for the beast.

oh but not hope!

hope persists.

hope scalds mercilessly,

jabbing at



hope twists knives,






the very ache


assures me,




alive …

Artwork from Google

M A S Q U E R A D E …


arms interlocked,

palpably frigid,

eyes opaque,


willfully oblivious,

tucked away,

from the reverberations of sin,

lost in the glossy haze,



on winged dreams of tin,



for a glimpse,

of the promise,

of better days,

leaving behind this sorry charade,

giggles galore,

as the booze flows,

drowning the dead,

unravelling the uncouth,

lying just beneath the veneer,

of this numb masquerade …

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