Kindness breeds love, love alters a paradigm
Augmenting pragmatic notions through my works deifies my dogma
Want to need, need to greed, greed to immorality, immortality to Homo sapiens extinction
Humans no more that highly evolved apes made up of trillions of cells
Primitive in desire but now trained not to anticipate change
Cardinal principals of caring dispositions all in union will form the required equilibrium
Matter in the cosmos we’ll not comprehend
Complex mechanisms operating in amalgamation
A hybrid, a range of metamorphic entities in celestial cohesion. Atoms, Neutrons, Electrons, a kinship.
Different but inseparable, all together performing there function
Candid acceptance of aesthetic diametric as they share congruent focal points
The stratosphere filled with wonder
Moon a matriarch of the night, the sun its lover, giving birth to stars
As we espouse to reach a heightened self, kindred spirits are summoned
Let the inception of our humble genesis negate us from an approaching climax
Archives for October 2014
Few words for the world
Nexus
Religion although a notion denoting a sign-post to the unknown begets a safe haven once one has perished. Heaven. To some an obscure ambiguity to others a place of rest after death of infinite time & space.
Who are we ultimately besides our outward personality? As humans we are sculptures, constantly chipping away the unwanted pieces trying to create our own version of the masterpiece.
The earth we borrow transverse soil with our feet but soon we shall lay beneath, mortality our fate but spiritual faith allows for life thereafter. God. A guiding light, omnipotent force, a nexus with which we collate.
Pantomime tales inhabit duplicate self’s like blissful secrets, we instead wake from figments of our minds as though we live in sequence. A fluorescent light lives within us all provided by a higher power, makes us vigorous in peril a strengthened form one day we’ll reach his tower.
Life an expedition of highs and lows but why travel it alone, in trying times look deep inside and simply close your eyes, darkness follows don’t despise you feel your far from home, omniscient being there to help a patron you’ve always known, the orb inside it comes from him, just pick up the non-secular phone.
A Lamentation
I have drunk to the dregs
The blood of my dead.
I splutter and choke
On the gore
That they pour.
I have drunk to the dregs
From the cup I’ve been fed.
The blood – so much blood – cries out from the sand:
Murder! Desist! Lift your hand! Lift your hand!
Mercy! Compassion! Stop profaning the land!
Lift up your voices, my children, and weep
and howl because life’s become so cheap.
Licentiousness, violence, disease plague the land,
Laying waste what was planted by His mighty Hand.
These locusts inexorably press on and on,
Reaping, depleting, they scuttle along.
Repent! Your transgression has reached to the sky:
there’s mercy for you, just look up on High.
Carnage on roadways – statistics just grow,
The blood and the tears cease not to flow.
Heartbreak and sorrow and bitter regret:
What if? and Why not? and Why did they so?
It’s just woe after woe after woe after woe.
Mourn for my unborn, cheated of time.
Grieve for my children cut down in their prime
Bewail the fate of all victims of crime.
The land is distressed
She weeps in the night.
Softly she mournfully croons out her plight.
She cradles all who fall to the scourge
For them she sings her plaintive dirge.
She’s been defiled – she’s drenched in blood
A never-ending crimson flood.
Death of a country school girl
In our backyard is a mound
Vuyo lies there – underground.
We have to walk quite far each way
to school and back every day.
We laugh and shout and run and play
and sometimes from the stream get clay.
Across the N2 it’s still far;
for quite a way we walk by tar
until we reach the beaten track
that takes us home and brings us back.
Woe to us all on that terrible day
etched in our mem’ries forever I’ll say.
Whoosh, went the red car – a streak on the road,
BANG went the bottle – we heard it explode.
A wicked sliver wedged up high
in little Vuyo’s skinny thigh.
She filled the air with her distress;
then, shocked, we saw the gory mess.
Our little Vuyo’s precious blood
poured forth, a bright red gushing flood.
It just flowed and it spurted and spattered us all,
and I sprang when I saw her swirl slowly and fall.
Terror-struck, jabbering, transfixed with fear,
“Sipho, run home and fetch Mama, you hear?”
Crushing her to me and holding her tight
I kept my tears back with all of my might.
I can’t recall the moment when
our Vuyo’s moans came to an end.
I looked at her and then I saw
her open eyes could see no more.
Our baby’s life had ebbed away
this was to be her final day.
When Mama’s feet came into view
an hour had passed or maybe two.
Off Mama trot at a steady pace
a stricken look upon her face.
She held Vuyo close to her throbbing breast
struggling for air to her tortured chest.
We got to the clinic at last but knew
for Vuyo life was long since through.
They put our girl in a backroom hold
toe-tagged and left on a slab so cold.
Our little girl lies in a hole in the ground;
we go there quite often to visit that mound.
We all feel the loss of our dear little one
she was such a joy and a bundle of fun.
35
35,
and on a train
two bags beside him,
all his belongings; his life
stuffed into it
Sitting across from me
35 and he’s lost
He holds his face away;
no grace in it, he smokes
a pack a day
even more, if he’s pockets are full
Where are you heading young sir?
He asks me, when I am not watching
but staring into my phone
The next stop is my stop, I respond
And you?
Don’t know, he says amused
35 and lost, still
There; then, when the train stops
He gets off
He asks my age, 21;
I tell him; and you sir?
35
Oh?
We’re the same age then,
I say;
young sir
Family Life (a poem in experimental haiku)
Infatuation –
Winner of America.
Paper tigers ghosts.
Beast in the kitchen –
Drowned thing with her rosary.
At war with the roast.
Throne. Ghost. Leaf. All guests.
Pale. Ancestral bloodlines – a clever-experiment
In romanticism.
Beach life. A green-ish plate.
Swimming towards velvet rays-of-light.
A child’s-laugh (bees). Sea mist.
Jasmine passion – reel.
Flowers in a lonely mind.
Illness for breakfast.
After Leaving Mr Muirhead (a poem in experimental haiku)
Alleys. Streets. Wolves. Sheep.
The shores-of-Johannesburg do not smell like anything-like-Malibu.
It’s primitive living-for-sale.
To the lighthouse soul.
To Sappho, Antigone’s divine-ceremony.
Go fishing in rifts.
Something is damaged –
There is a richness in dust – mother-tongue.
Post-apartheid things. Compasses.
You are a typhoon –
Waves in the folds of daylight.
Childhood stars are past.
The end of violence –
The world’s feast is not my home.
Celestial routes. Fruits.
Love on a Cloud
She sent him a message …
A message of her undying love….upon a cloud
The cloud full of passion and love….embraced his soul
The silky white cloud resembled the purity of the love
That no force could ever separate
A love that stood the test of time
has reached the heavens!
Lamb (a poem in experimental haiku)
Once a boy was hatched.
Born with sonnet wings most heaven-sent –
Eased into planting.
Appalled by the world’s stage.
Tooth – radar splitting the hunt
Courage is exposed.
Brilliant inner sea –
His cry glides across the moon.
This mother tongue comforts me.
Ghost of a vision.
Every finger a stem –
Leaves antiques, tears sap.
Winter’s bone – a party’s birthday balloon
Summoning earth’s ripening –
Blades of pleasant grass.