Some days are so familiar
Hard as I look there is nothing to see
No compassion, no heart, no change
Just a distressingly arrogant contempt
In the best interests of those who will not think.
Some days I just want to lash out
I want to shake things up
And scream at the top of my lungs
Or just curl up and cry
Sometimes I just want to die.
Some days there is nothing to smile about
The laughter is forced and insincere
The freedom song strangled in my throat
The martyrs crucified in vain
As I look into your eyes and see the disdain.
Some days I need so much to behold beauty
Yet all I see is the growing decay
As you wipe the dirt from your feet
Leaving it behind as you enter your fortress
Mouthing your patronizing platitudes.
Some days I have all the answers
I know what it is that I need to say
But the sentences falter and remain unspoken
Silenced by the desperate clamour
Of distracted indifference.
Some days the sun just won’t shine
There is no daybreak and no gray light
And try as I might there is no respite
No understanding or acceptance or desire
Just an interminably desolate moment.
Some days your greed leaves me empty
Needing so badly to feed my dream
Needing just to dream; of a better place
Of justice and equality and a future
Of my next meal without worrying about starving.
And some days I do feel the love
Of an unknown brother and a sister far away
Of a fellow traveler passing on their way
A stranger with a heart and mind who is able to see
Reminding me to stop being indulgent.
Tuesday 20 December 2011
NAMIBIA
This journey is rich with memories
A trip overflowing with my snatches of history
From the thick cream to the warm milk bread
The hot-springs and skin peeling sunburn
The sweltering city and the misty coast.
Now I return with another purpose
To shoot the breeze with a father
And siblings who now have partners and kids
To feel their smiles and taste their tears
To listen as they try to disguise their fears.
I needed to come once more
Just to meet and maybe to say a final farewell
To look out at their hazy horizons
Shimmering bright in the distance
Where new dreams are born.
A trip overflowing with my snatches of history
From the thick cream to the warm milk bread
The hot-springs and skin peeling sunburn
The sweltering city and the misty coast.
Now I return with another purpose
To shoot the breeze with a father
And siblings who now have partners and kids
To feel their smiles and taste their tears
To listen as they try to disguise their fears.
I needed to come once more
Just to meet and maybe to say a final farewell
To look out at their hazy horizons
Shimmering bright in the distance
Where new dreams are born.
WHEN WE WERE US...
It’s late at night as I sit here thinking of us. It’s minus ten outside and in here it’s minus you. I remember that first time we met we flirted; touching, kissing; fingers exploring. Even in the absence of a snapshot, the images are clear: I remember sharing a soul, the first time we made love for ever; the first time I broke your heart. I came back to you and you to me, that night of wind and fingers entwined and promises that would be broken.
The intensity of your gaze, the urgent pulse; an electric shock, you became I part of me and I of you. I will never forget.
The moments shared in obscure places, the rare public proclamations, the coffees and whiskeys and the sound of your voice as I listened, before I turned away again.
The intensity of your gaze, the urgent pulse; an electric shock, you became I part of me and I of you. I will never forget.
The moments shared in obscure places, the rare public proclamations, the coffees and whiskeys and the sound of your voice as I listened, before I turned away again.
20 FACTS AND AN INTRO...
I am often amazed at the way in which people choose to interpret life – or more often, misinterpret it; but having said that I must hasten to add that I am under no illusion that how and what I think is the only valid view. I have to admit that my interpretation of reality can be – and often is – interpreted as lacking. I know this because I fail to take into account so many of the factors that so many people are convinced, is indispensable and integral to having an informed opinion.
By the same token, I am convinced that much of the complexity is merely presented to confuse and needlessly convolute issues which are in essence exceedingly simple.
Perhaps it is the simplicity itself that becomes the problem because we cannot believe that this life that the greatest minds through the ages have never completely unraveled cannot be anything less than bogglingly complex; or at least that is what we have been told to think.
One and one can create endless permutations – endless components of the complex, misdirection and confabulation.
We become the masters of our own delusion simply because we are unable to accept the truth, and we all know that truth is open to interpretation, or misinterpretation as the case may be…
1. We are all prejudiced
2. We are slaves controlled by corporate puppet-masters
3. Politics is a whorehouse under surveillance and politicians are the whores
4. Freedom has been reduced to a personal space
5. Religion is a foil that keeps the masses blind
6. There is no ultimate truth
7. Neither knowledge nor education guarantees intelligence
8. History hasn’t taught us how to be more human
By the same token, I am convinced that much of the complexity is merely presented to confuse and needlessly convolute issues which are in essence exceedingly simple.
Perhaps it is the simplicity itself that becomes the problem because we cannot believe that this life that the greatest minds through the ages have never completely unraveled cannot be anything less than bogglingly complex; or at least that is what we have been told to think.
One and one can create endless permutations – endless components of the complex, misdirection and confabulation.
We become the masters of our own delusion simply because we are unable to accept the truth, and we all know that truth is open to interpretation, or misinterpretation as the case may be…
1. We are all prejudiced
2. We are slaves controlled by corporate puppet-masters
3. Politics is a whorehouse under surveillance and politicians are the whores
4. Freedom has been reduced to a personal space
5. Religion is a foil that keeps the masses blind
6. There is no ultimate truth
7. Neither knowledge nor education guarantees intelligence
8. History hasn’t taught us how to be more human
NEW NOISE
I listen intently to this new noise: running water, birdsong, insects and dogs; random snatches of passing conversations; an occasional car or tractor or horse; and the valley breathing.
The story shifts to encompass wide-open spaces and the rushing inanity of urban threads are reduced to a receding mindlessness.
My thoughts slowly calm and the assimilation begins, one moment at a time I become accustomed to the crisp, clear air and the smells of things barely tainted by the decay and destruction.
The fatigue of the journey weighs heavy in my limbs, but I know that I will soon be revived. I smile as I wonder how the story will begin.
The story shifts to encompass wide-open spaces and the rushing inanity of urban threads are reduced to a receding mindlessness.
My thoughts slowly calm and the assimilation begins, one moment at a time I become accustomed to the crisp, clear air and the smells of things barely tainted by the decay and destruction.
The fatigue of the journey weighs heavy in my limbs, but I know that I will soon be revived. I smile as I wonder how the story will begin.
THE ROAD
There is a road down which I used to walk
Many, many years ago in amazement and wonder
I used to see the other children playing
Care-free and with abandon
Under the watchful eyes of doting parents
And I wondered about mine.
There was that road down which I walked again
Many years ago in confusion and rage
Observing the crumbling facades
Corroded by time and neglect
Under the bitter yoke oppression
And I wondered about time.
Now that self-same road upon which I tread
Has been restored to it’s never before glory
As I am overcome by the familiar smiles of the aged
Mere children grown old before they’ve matured
By the blinkered wisdom of experience
And I wandered on, down the line.
Many, many years ago in amazement and wonder
I used to see the other children playing
Care-free and with abandon
Under the watchful eyes of doting parents
And I wondered about mine.
There was that road down which I walked again
Many years ago in confusion and rage
Observing the crumbling facades
Corroded by time and neglect
Under the bitter yoke oppression
And I wondered about time.
Now that self-same road upon which I tread
Has been restored to it’s never before glory
As I am overcome by the familiar smiles of the aged
Mere children grown old before they’ve matured
By the blinkered wisdom of experience
And I wandered on, down the line.
Mosselbay - 24/12/2010
I awake to the sound of the Indian Ocean lapping lazily at the sandy shore. I’m still trying to fathom the journey that brought me here.
Thoughts of a full breakfast reduced to coffee and juice by an onslaught of cereal.
I sit looking out over a pristine white beach quietly observing; after a few wine-glasses of tepid Limousine brandy with gassy Coke Zero and only yearning thoughts of ice, I speak to a member of the staff and am given directions.
I stroll along the beach slowly filling, smoking on my way to town which is familiar even though it is my first visit. Holiday-makers!
Bananas and peanuts; and a roast chicken with fresh, baked bread; and vodka with juice and ice: the afternoon passes sipping away, watching. So many toned bronzed bodies; as many flabby and pale; everyone has children. Holiday-makers!
Scrimped and saved all year maybe; or more likely just saved or blowing the annual bonus; privileged, not in their whiteness but in their ability to afford a holiday at all: and yet they don’t see themselves as being privileged any longer, just holiday-makers enjoying the seasonal migration of the herd to dip their manicured and wrinkled toes into this salt water of their content.
A tipsy and toasted Christmas Eve drive into the unadorned heart of the community where old friends and neighbours become new acquaintances over a smoke and an uninspired conversation: the old days are alive in the dying moment, dying because the passage of time doesn’t ever change the grinding reality of impoverishment and drugs and the bemoanable truth of apathy.
The stars are dulled by ambient light as I lay in my narrow bed, drifting to the crash and thunderous hiss of the surf pounding away at the shoreline beyond my open window.
Thoughts of a full breakfast reduced to coffee and juice by an onslaught of cereal.
I sit looking out over a pristine white beach quietly observing; after a few wine-glasses of tepid Limousine brandy with gassy Coke Zero and only yearning thoughts of ice, I speak to a member of the staff and am given directions.
I stroll along the beach slowly filling, smoking on my way to town which is familiar even though it is my first visit. Holiday-makers!
Bananas and peanuts; and a roast chicken with fresh, baked bread; and vodka with juice and ice: the afternoon passes sipping away, watching. So many toned bronzed bodies; as many flabby and pale; everyone has children. Holiday-makers!
Scrimped and saved all year maybe; or more likely just saved or blowing the annual bonus; privileged, not in their whiteness but in their ability to afford a holiday at all: and yet they don’t see themselves as being privileged any longer, just holiday-makers enjoying the seasonal migration of the herd to dip their manicured and wrinkled toes into this salt water of their content.
A tipsy and toasted Christmas Eve drive into the unadorned heart of the community where old friends and neighbours become new acquaintances over a smoke and an uninspired conversation: the old days are alive in the dying moment, dying because the passage of time doesn’t ever change the grinding reality of impoverishment and drugs and the bemoanable truth of apathy.
The stars are dulled by ambient light as I lay in my narrow bed, drifting to the crash and thunderous hiss of the surf pounding away at the shoreline beyond my open window.
Tuesday 13 December 2011
GROWTH
Perfect isolation
Calm and wild
Now that history recedes
To create new memories
Of yet another tomorrow
That will undoubtedly grow.
This familiar ocean
Always met anew
Deceptive beneath the surface
Dark unfathomable depths
Conceal untold mysteries
Untold secrets
Forgotten.
Calm and wild
Now that history recedes
To create new memories
Of yet another tomorrow
That will undoubtedly grow.
This familiar ocean
Always met anew
Deceptive beneath the surface
Dark unfathomable depths
Conceal untold mysteries
Untold secrets
Forgotten.
SAME-OLD, SAME-OLD
The reality has shifted
Yet it remains the same,
The landscape’s developed
Yet seemingly in vain
As the country struggles to breath
Beneath the yoke of greed
And callous avarice.
Laws that prohibit
Even a slight gesture
Walls keeping you safe
Oblivious, unable to register
Setting the stage
For another disaster.
Personal, political
The bitch gives birth
Little and large
We are all a part of tomorrow
Sorrows that stunt growth
A broken oath, a pact shattered
In denial.
THE SINGING LESSON
A place of healing
A space for cleansing
A moment of reflection
A time for introspection.
Removed from the rush
And the mindless madness
No suspicion or fear
No heartless callousness.
A place of birdsong
A space to create
A time of expression
With no thought of aggression.
Removed from the stifling striving
And the endless slog,
Embraced by nature
Learning the Mother’s song.
A space for cleansing
A moment of reflection
A time for introspection.
Removed from the rush
And the mindless madness
No suspicion or fear
No heartless callousness.
A place of birdsong
A space to create
A time of expression
With no thought of aggression.
Removed from the stifling striving
And the endless slog,
Embraced by nature
Learning the Mother’s song.
IMMORTALITY
Immortality my friends
Is not a reference to me
Of eternal life
Or never having to endure
Death:
No, immortality for me
Speaks of another state –
An altered fate
Where the love of the living
Lets our souls thrive;
Where the effect of giving
Sharing our honest expression
Keeps the love of the other
And the memories alive.
Is not a reference to me
Of eternal life
Or never having to endure
Death:
No, immortality for me
Speaks of another state –
An altered fate
Where the love of the living
Lets our souls thrive;
Where the effect of giving
Sharing our honest expression
Keeps the love of the other
And the memories alive.
CAN YOU FEEL IT
It’s late at night,
The laughter has dies down
Leaving behind just a nagging electric hum
And the sound of regular breathing;
Sleeping, drifting away.
So many thoughts to share
So many moments of inspiration
Such comfortable, comforting intimacy
So much said with fingers and eyes
So many words painting tender images.
Such intensity gazing out from within this moment
Looking into tomorrow’s future
Tomorrow’s smiles and tears
And the certain knowledge of continued laughter
Unselfconsciously with belly-aching abandon.
This day will become a new morning
That will turn into another night
Filled and fulfilled in the embrace
Of our time passing but lasting
Love growing old while staying young.
The laughter has dies down
Leaving behind just a nagging electric hum
And the sound of regular breathing;
Sleeping, drifting away.
So many thoughts to share
So many moments of inspiration
Such comfortable, comforting intimacy
So much said with fingers and eyes
So many words painting tender images.
Such intensity gazing out from within this moment
Looking into tomorrow’s future
Tomorrow’s smiles and tears
And the certain knowledge of continued laughter
Unselfconsciously with belly-aching abandon.
This day will become a new morning
That will turn into another night
Filled and fulfilled in the embrace
Of our time passing but lasting
Love growing old while staying young.
TALKING TO MYSELF
I journeyed slowly at the whim of the wind
Leaving behind one true love
Just to be consumed by the other
Leaving behind the urban asylum
To be alone with my madness.
I arrived to the sound of birdsong
And the breeze caressing the leaves
Greeted by a warm smile and a handshake
And the truth of a soul’s eyes
Speaking kind words of welcome
To comfort a weary stranger.
And in a matter of days
That seemed to encompass many lifetimes
The soul is completely refilled
By the scream of Mother Nature’s silence
I am able to converse with myself.
Leaving behind one true love
Just to be consumed by the other
Leaving behind the urban asylum
To be alone with my madness.
I arrived to the sound of birdsong
And the breeze caressing the leaves
Greeted by a warm smile and a handshake
And the truth of a soul’s eyes
Speaking kind words of welcome
To comfort a weary stranger.
And in a matter of days
That seemed to encompass many lifetimes
The soul is completely refilled
By the scream of Mother Nature’s silence
I am able to converse with myself.
THE CANINE CONDUCTOR
In a lush green valley
Feet sinking into rich, black fertile earth
Leaves mottled yellow, red, turning brown
Drifting gently to brush the ground.
Khaki koppies capped with tufts of fragrant evergreen
Ancient rocks proudly displaying the cracking scars
The life giving muddy water flows after the rains
Sighing and grumbling along ancient riverbeds.
The wind-pumps are stilled
The leaves have stopped their whispered song
The grass is no longer dancing
Waiting for the orchestra to strike up its gusting refrain.
Then a solitary ray of sunshine
Warms the lands’ troubled heart
As all of life once again begins its chant
To the accompaniment of a lone dog’s bark.
Feet sinking into rich, black fertile earth
Leaves mottled yellow, red, turning brown
Drifting gently to brush the ground.
Khaki koppies capped with tufts of fragrant evergreen
Ancient rocks proudly displaying the cracking scars
The life giving muddy water flows after the rains
Sighing and grumbling along ancient riverbeds.
The wind-pumps are stilled
The leaves have stopped their whispered song
The grass is no longer dancing
Waiting for the orchestra to strike up its gusting refrain.
Then a solitary ray of sunshine
Warms the lands’ troubled heart
As all of life once again begins its chant
To the accompaniment of a lone dog’s bark.
SOMETIMES I CAN
Can you imagine a world
Untouched by greed and destruction
Where every effort is a part
Of a greater, living art?
Can you imagine the other
A distant sister or brother
Without fear and prejudice
As someone to love and care for?
Can you imagine yourself
Living to fulfill a different role
That encompasses more than your own security
A life of purpose untainted by impurity?
Can you imagine how it would be
If every one of us was a leader
Unchained and unscarred by preconception
Conscious and creating all that can be imagined?
Untouched by greed and destruction
Where every effort is a part
Of a greater, living art?
Can you imagine the other
A distant sister or brother
Without fear and prejudice
As someone to love and care for?
Can you imagine yourself
Living to fulfill a different role
That encompasses more than your own security
A life of purpose untainted by impurity?
Can you imagine how it would be
If every one of us was a leader
Unchained and unscarred by preconception
Conscious and creating all that can be imagined?
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