Tag Archive: Vaccine Apartheid


A dream as a new dawn yawns …

When our new dawn yawns,

may we lend our hands to those with whom these myriad paths we tread,

may we be kinder, gentler, of all animosity devoid,

feeling the spirit of uBuntu* embroidering us with a common thread,

may we reaffirm our oneness,
across cultures, faiths, races, and nations,

walking together in peace,

our love binding us for the travails that may lie ahead,

may we embrace the other, without conceit, knowing that we all bleed red,

may we lay down our egos, our barbed words,

our weapons by which far too much blood has been shed,

may we usher in a less cruel world with dignity for all,

may we tend to each others’ wounds, sewing together justice, freedom, equality, may we as one people, stand humble yet tall,

may we always pick each other up, whenever we stumble, whenever we fall.

When our new dawn yawns,

may our hands be clasped together, walking as one – the human race,

may we knit a bond transcending all that has imprisoned us alone, each in a vacuum of desolate space,

so that at long last,
we may see in each other,

a kindred human face

_________

* – uBuntu is a Southern African philosophy that espouses the inter-connectedness of all beings.

art by banksy

“Why him?”, they ask her …

Why him? “, they ask her,

“Why on earth,

of all the easy-on-the-eyes men,
why, of all the well-heeled ones,
why, of all the well-lettered intellectuals,
why, of all the many men with overflowing bank-balances and hefty wallets,

why him?“.


She tells them that the day she met him, that day when they laughed and when they spoke,

that day when they stood under a leaking bus-stop in the torrential African rains,

she tells them that she felt,
for the first time,

that finally,

all she felt she needed to be,

was herself

art by banksy

the passion of my pen: you

art by banksy

the passion of my pen: you …

this pen dipped in ink, scribbles odes to you,

my fingers caressing your bare back, paints words of a love so true,

while in your eyes swirls the raging fire,

the passion of my pen scalds my being entire.

i may scribble a poem or two, my meagre words unable to convey,

the roaring furnace you have lit within me, this dervish who in a daze does sway,

sprinkling kisses on your honeydew lips,

feeling the desire raw and thirsting, from my soul to my fingertips.

your love has breathed life, awakening my slumbering heart,

to beat in tune with yours, scribbling oaths to never be, ever apart,

for a love so complete, so warm and so achingly deep,

was once only dreamed of, in waking moments of thought, and in the cauldron of my restless sleep.

these odes, these poems, are but scribbles on the parchment of shared time,

tucked away in the recesses of memory, finding solace in each paltry rhyme,

assailed by the nettles of days gone by,

emotions billowing like smoke into the bluest sky.

the passion of my pen is the mirrored reflection of your love,

the stroking of your hair, your head on my chest, the bounty we were blessed with, from the heavens above,

when days were humid and sultry, the nights torrid, bathed in the essence of need,

when all subtlety fled, as our hunger growled, wanting it all with an insatiable greed.

i recall those years of long ago, when we danced in tune with each heartbeat,

when our bodies lay entwined, the sweat dripping off flesh, as our minds and souls did effortlessly meet,

i can never forget those minutes that stretched into hours, in the Johannesburg thunderstorms, drenched in the cooling African rains,

your body my canvas, from the tips of your velveteen mountaintops, to the savanna of your rolling silken plains.

i recall every one of those minutes, i can hardly forget the warmth of your breath, as we sighed in unison, skin upon blazing skin,

and were i to never love again, were i to never savour that ecstasy, i will forever bask in the paradise of those memories, and i will constantly keep you, for you will always remain my heaven within.

art by banksy

the stream of life …

the meandering stream of our lives, hopping over smooth pebbles, jarred by jagged rocks, swirling down maelstroms, surfacing in placid waters, washing up all our carried detritus on tiny islands of hope, coursing through the rapids of fate, just as life races on, a perpetual journey wrestling the still waters where hope itself, seemingly lies in state.

our lives, the daily grind, the cacophony of the banal, remains afloat, seeking solace in between crevasses, welcoming the temporary respite from the incessantly onward flow, stripping our skin bare, raw wounds inflicted by the flotsam and jetsam of these travels, the travails of the many masks we wear, seeking respite in the promise of an endless sea, always just around the corner, where for once, we may moult our broken skin, and where for once, we may just be.

the rising and ebbing of the tides, leave us gasping for breath, a seemingly endless cycle of the distant beacon of joy, only to be blinded by the silt, as the stream rolls on obliviously, leaving us gasping for breath, a twig snapped in two, while destiny offers us the mirage of a peaceful shore, only to be struck by the truth, the tired realisation that the stream rolls on, evermore.

we are torn apart by the ceaseless wear and tear, the infinite tears lost in the deluge, our fleeting laughs, our vanishing smiles, being pounded against the silence of the shallows, with hope a seductive vision, prodding us to go on,

to not sink in the greying depths of despair,

while we continually fall for the falseness of the charade,

grasping for just another breath of life affirming air …

Picasso – Dove of Peace

Your Love

You have soothed the stinging nettles away,
your breath a balm,
your whispers soft as the oceans’ spray.

You have unmasked the spurious charade,
your hair a canopy,
your love so gentle as the delicate shade.

You have settled within my very core so deep,
your lips my chalice,
your kisses waking me from my fitful sleep.

You inhabit the largest part of my being entire,
your soul my wellspring,
your arms offer respite from the muck and the mire.

You inflame the passions I thought were all dead and speared,
your touch a furnace,
your presence a blazing dawn with all encroaching cobwebs cleared.

You transform each desolate night into a tapestry of light,
your eyes lift the veil of darkness,
your fierce desire envelopes me warm and tight.

You were my lifeline in the maelstrom in which I helplessly swirled,
your arms my anchors,
your incandescent sun the constant around which I whirled,

your truth a shield against all rocks hurled,

your trust an embracing shawl so effortlessly unfurled,

you,
my life,

you,
my exquisite world …

Picasso – Peace Dove
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