HOCUS-POCUS

The tooth fairy and the Easter bunny

Sat drinking one night in a bar

When Santa Claus walked in with a swagger

Already drunk and disorderly and itching for a fight

After Snow White had given him shit again

Because she felt guilty that she had been with Mowgli

And Casper the barman had to raise his voice

To calm things down as Jesus walked in with Goldilocks on his arm.

Outside the dwarves were on their knees

And the giants with their swords held high

Were mowing them down left and right

While the sun and the moon were having high tea

And the king was fucking the queen’s daughter

Behind the farmer’s barn while the cows looked on disapprovingly

Asking each other what had become of the world

When even the raindrops were falling skyward.

When I grow up in a million years

I’d want to be an ophthalmologist at night

And during the day I am going to be a conjuror

I’ll charge all the near-sighted followers exorbitant sums

To open their eyes so that they can see

That all the hocus-pocus that they claim to believe

Is what keeps us blind and dumb like the animals on a farm
Each in its own pen in seeming harmony.

City Bowl Blues

The sharp edges are brushed by polluted shades

As the day expires flirting graciously with the dusk

The angry hard drive buzz is reduced to a calmer hum

The island, the ships, the further shore.

A neighbour lingering at his door

Chatting to some girls with his boy in his arms

But mommy’s not happy and comes out to get her son

Sometimes sitting here on the balcony can be such fun.

Evening descends with a touch more fuss

A teenager gets scolded for missing the bus

The professional makes way for tired and casual

The smog and sun’s afterglow creates something special.

Birdsong drifts fragile as the cacophony subsides

To be shattered by a roar as a traffic light changes

Moving in unison despite their strangeness

And the general mindlessness besides.

Hues of grey and crimson mingle with a far truer blue

As the moon and sun share the blossoming sky

Carrying the smell of a thousand suppers

At home and with friends or simply alone.

Night heralds its arrival with a base beat thumping deep below

The city is transformed beneath its neon halo

The island, the ships, the far shore, the twinkle and flash

Indistinct shapes roam dark shadows in search of cash.

The ocean spills up into the infinitely black firmament

Yet more pointless loss and destruction are imminent

When the passion lies denied, festering, waiting to die

And the look in your eyes fails to hide your lies while the city cries.

Agterbaai patat...

Another magical sunrise at the 'Back-Bay'

The Khoi Gxam Poet

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I DO STILL FEEL

I do not feel like indulging foolishness

In any guise or disguise

The masks of mindless metaphor

Without any rhythm

Cut and bleeding, pasted rhymes – just lines.

I often don't feel like indulging fools

Who continue to subscribe

To the debilitating proscription of culture

And the dogma that thrives unchecked or challenged

While we insulate ourselves from the other!

I no longer feel like indulging the folly

Of unconscious rhetoric, making excuses

And justifying our indifference

As our impotent submission

Allows atrocity to become normality.

And yet I do still feel that we can make the difference

I do still feel that there is hope

I do still feel that we have a chance

I do still feel the soul pervading beauty

I do still feel such overwhelming love.

Mal-Adjusted - with sound-scaping by Glen Arendse...

Image by Joy Owen

Mal-Adjusted

Poetry by Mikey DW with Glen Arendse...

MAL-ADJUSTED

APOLOGIES & LEGACIES

How would you react

If I arrived at your door

Unannounced and insistent

To fry the bacon

And sit in your favourite chair

The remote control in my hand?

How would you feel

If when you opened your mouth

I beat you

To within an inch of your life

Then raped your wife

And told you to be grateful?

What would you say

If I then declared it my right

The privilege of my superior might

And my brutally civil intellect

To have a child with your daughter

So that someone could dig your grave.

What would you think

As you lingered at death’s door

If I told that child not to worry

That your suffering will end

Pray and you will be forgiven

When you get to heaven.

Would you accept my apology

Even though I think I did nothing wrong;

Would you believe my sincerity

Even though your home remained my own;

Would you be able to forget

When constantly confronted with this legacy?

KNOCK-KNOCK

Knock-knock:

Who’s there?

It’s me; the person you do not see

Through your peephole

The unfamiliar stranger

Standing on the outside

No longer sure what I’m supposed to be.

Knock-knock:

What do you want?

I’m so busy

So many things to do

Things that do not include you

Why are you still out there?

Get away from my door.

Knock-knock:

Please let me in?

I was born here,

It was once my home

Long ago before you moved in

Now I have nowhere to go

And no pillow

Upon which to lay my head.

Knock-knock:

My knuckles are bleeding

Raw from all of the knocking

Trying to get back in

To return to the fatherland,

The place where I was conceived

Where I now stand knocking

Dying to get back in.

Waiting - Bolo'bolo 2nd edition launch