Thursday, 20 April 2017

oordrewe verbeelding

daar is 'n swetterjoel palpitasies 
te vinde in hart-kennis

in die geval van rugspanning 
betrag die situasie met maksimum aktivering van elke asemteug

jy sal sien dat jy sommer 
die klavier beter sal speel

praat reguit en onbeskaamd in jou moedertaal en moenie walg aan 
jou stink kieliebakkies

almiskie! die verrimpelde kolwyntjies is uitverstotenes op die poedingtafel

hoe kan enige iemand neutraal 
die toneel aanskou?

hou die skim dop tussen hierdie en die volgende versreël
sy rink-kink poedelkaal om jou aandag af te trek

hoekom verdink en vervreem 
mense heeltyd mekaar?

'n verdrietige vonnis soms
om mens te wees

die sterre ontkoppel ook hulself 
as dit te veel raak

as jy gelukkig is sal jy 'n insigtelike metafoor 
in my verminkte skaduwee vind

jy sal ook oordrewe verbeelding in my gedigte oplet
veral as die magneet-poësie ALWEER van die yskasdeur afgedonder het

Saturday, 15 April 2017

die ontstuimige kleintongetjie

die ontstuimige kleintongetjie grom vir
die geroesde musiekboks wat nog 
sulke wonder-klanke kan uittoor

die donsige suikerbekkie-kuiken duik diep
in sy nes en maak die benoude geute vergeet van 
al die brandnetels wat binne hulle oprank

die boeiende plakkaat tol in die wind
en beduie my duiselige kierie 
die afgrond in

draai my in smaaklose geskenkpapier toe
en gee my vir die uitgehongerde beslissings
wat in hulle langdurige afpersings verkrummel

die beskeie skuurpapier skarrel besorgd
oor die korale en vermy 
enige troebele uitdagings

die piekante wierook pamperlang 
die smotserige fatsoen
die opgesmukte parfuum syfer hangkop verby

die afgesaagde skerpmaker kla kwistig
oor die blikoopmaker se skrille motivering
om aan die werk te bly

die afgeskeepte Rubik kubus skaats en bons
verby die teësinnige handskoen 
wat enige kubisme ten alle koste wil ignoreer

die gemmer verdrink in die tee
ek probeer hom red
maar hy is te glibberig

die laken sleep haarself oor die vloer
sy voel nie beskore vir hierdie nuwe dag nie
haar emosies is net te brokkelrig

al die dreine om die huis voel ook 'n ongemak
die vensterbanke kruip al 
hoe nader aan die grond

die blitse springtoue dartel 
al om my enkels
maar ek wil niks van spring weet

die kruppel rasper maak net klonte van alles
ek vly en stamp maar 
niks wil werk

die plektrum is ook skielik so porieus
enige langtermyn planne wat die kitaar in die mou voer
kan netsowel geelimineer word

hoe ek ookal die woorde vaskram 
die lettergrepe lê oral geskif
ek kan dit nie waag om hierdie uit te saai nie

hierdie gedig bepaal die vlak van siel-uitsuiging
hoe kry hierdie verse dit reg om 
enige hoop te laat verdamp?

Friday, 14 April 2017

daar is waarlik nie woorde nie

my breinvlugte dink beelde en konsepte uit
waarvoor daar nog nie woorde bestaan nie

dit is hoekom ek so 'n uitdaging het met gedigte skryf - 

               daar is waarlik nie woorde nie

                          ek sal maar my eie moet opmaak

Monday, 10 April 2017

the silence we have given each other today

as i step into the print shop busy with something on my phone
i notice the young lady behind the counter also 
tapping away on her phone
it has been an overwhelming day for me 
and in the tired look in the lady's eyes 
it seems like she also had a tough day
in that moment i knew i could not 
overwhelm her with my overwhelmedness
i put my phone away
forgot about the prints i wanted done
and told her not to worry about helping me
i will just stand here in front of her
demanding nothing
just our silence
at first she looked a bit dazed
i simply kept quiet and held her in my eye
within a few moments she got what i was doing
and also put away her phone
and just looked at me
people were coming in and appeared awkward
to witness this silent interaction
a serene smile was starting to tingle on our lips
we kept our composure
relishing the silence we have given each other today

Sunday, 9 April 2017

born into poetry

the day was full of mutterings
doors opening themselves
the river flowing in the opposite direction

the little one was about to be born
the mother lying in a pool of sweat
it was a hard birth

the air was making gasping noises
the trees were bending over
to huddle themselves against 
something fiercely unknown
the walls drew closer together
as if all the space was making them nervous
the ants stopped scurrying
and for the very first time
lay on their backs

the sparrows flew into the house
and made their nests in the vacant shoes
the curtains knotted themselves
fearing derailment
the cracked unevenness in the paving at the front door
closed themselves up
smoothing the hurried entrance of the midwife

this was the day she was born into poetry

Friday, 7 April 2017

hotnotsgod

die woorde 
    klim uit 
haar keel
    met 
die kop-en-poot-bewegings 
     van
'n hotnotsgod

Thursday, 6 April 2017

tsunamis

i feel the fire at the back of my throat
beginning to rise
like the small and 
early stirrings 
of 
tsunamis

Wednesday, 5 April 2017

evolved to be distracted

i invite Distraction
welcoming it with open arms!

come all ye Flickering Adds
on screens and highways and pages 
you skim over my eyeballs
scheming to break my composure
come all ye Dogs' Barking 
in neighbourhoods far and wide
you tear my silence
plotting to crack my self-possession
come all ye Drip Drip Dripping of Leaking Taps
you split my patience
devising to cut through my serenity

i invite Distraction
welcoming it with open arms!

i let it through my doors 
open for it to shake my equilibrium
i invite all the Wifi and Smartphones 
the Radios and Televisions
the Earphones strangling ears
Youtube    Friend Requests
Photos     Links    Hashtags      Memes masterminding
to fracture my poise and peace of mind
these attention-grabbers might exasperate madden and agitate others
but not me

bleep! bleep! 
hey, there is a New Mail in my Inbox
let me quickly go have a look and see if it will rupture
my steady coolness
no it doesn't 
ping! ping! ooooh another Whatsapp coming in
my tranquil placidity remains clear as bells

let me listen to all the animated descriptions of 

other People's Parties Holidays and Adventures
i am not thrown off balance
i absorb all their experiences without 
a ruffle of my feathers

oh, and there's the tune of the Washing Machine
concocting to nag, bother and burden me
i go hang the clothes in peaceful quietude without 
a single flicker of distress on my eyelids

oh my, look at all the Dirty Dishes 
strategising to pester and plague my serenity
and the great bedeviller and provoker Mister Fridge 
always maneuvering itself to have me fling open its doors
i will not let my calm stability 
be harassed and ambushed in any way

an invasion of Distractions designed to accost me daily
scheming to push my buttons and rattle my cage
yet my stoic constancy remains undisturbed

i invite Distraction
welcoming it with open arms

the isle with Newspapers screaming Invasive Headlines at me
and the Chips and Chocolates perfectly placed to trip my mindfulness
it is not working
i am basking in a perfect state of ataraxia

as i go down the street the Cars and Trucks connive and conspire to 
deluge and irk me 
my coolheaded harmony pumps bubbles in my feet
i rise above the frenetic city
and its torrents of Smells and Noise
i fly further and further away from 
any entrapment and bombardment of my equanimity

aha, and so this poem is contrived to needle you in your side
definitely to distract you and egg on 
your envy and annoyance at my great forbearance

                                          who am i kidding?
                                          let me come out with it
                                          it is all make-believe and pretense
                                          simply to survive i have to feign imperturbability

i am human just like you
bewildered, flustered, fragmented, 
deranged, sidetracked, unhinged, 
upset, mystified, disoriented,
rattled, unsettled and simply dazed by
the onslaught of Damnable Distractions

Tuesday, 4 April 2017

sy weet vandag gaan sy nie op die grond loop nie

sodra haar oë oopmaak vanoggend
begin poësie spontaan uit haar vingerpunte te lek
die eerste woord wat sy deur haar asem stoot
klink soos blommende artisjokke
met die eerste tree wat sy gee uit die bed
voel sy alreeds die veerkragtige metrum van 'n nuwe vers
wanneer sy haar bloes oor haar kop trek
hoor haar een oor die fluister van 'n metafoor wat
die aand in die kraag kom nesmaak het
sy staan vir 'n ruk voor die spieël en betrag haar refleksie
sy sien die slaap in 'n krummel vasgesout in 
die hoek van haar een oog
soos gewoonte vryf sy dit uit haar oog
en lek die sout-slaap van haar vinger
skielik proe sy die nag se drome in die soutkorrel
haar oë glimmer tevrede oor  die nagrus wat
soveel beelde in haar kop laat borrel het
soos wat haar hand om die deurknop vou
sien sy die trillende moontlikhede van 
die dag onder deur die deur skyn
sy weet vandag gaan sy nie op die grond loop nie
sy gaan loop op die golwe van poësie

Monday, 3 April 2017

brachiate

i learnt a new word today
     brachiate - 
          to progress by swinging from hold to hold by the arms

i suddenly have the desire 
to brachiate between the poem's stanzas
never to touch the ground 
never to reach the end of the poem

forever swinging till my arms grow wings
and i fly forever more in the versified sky

Friday, 31 March 2017

scorched

photographer: Keran Ducasse

i have overheated the syllables
the words burnt black
my tongue charred with this red-hot verse
the eagerness was too great
uncontrolled conflagration spread over
the estuary of my jowls
all of me scorched to the core

this incineration forces me 
to sit in black silence
and listen to my smouldering breath move
in and out
in this new 
wordless dawn

Thursday, 30 March 2017

verraderlike breinknopery

skryf verlossing tot in die vierkantigheid van my brein
ek voel die pen-antisipasie tril tot in my voetsole
hierdie skrywerstoewyding is ‘n enigma

ek delibereer of ek die piering moet gebruik vir my koppie
of dit op die vloer laat val
sodat die skerwe soos dolosse 'n metafoor sal spel

wat is hierdie afslowing agter pen en papier werd ?
hierdie alewige gehunker na beeldspraak
om op my tong te pirouette?

die woorde wil soos vrugte
die vaal en plat oppervlak
laat uitrys met weergalose sappigheid

was ek maar ‘n skerpskutter
wat myself kon besighou
met werklike teikens

kan my digkuns soos ‘n spilpunt wees
wat met die druk van ‘n knoppie en rol van die wiel
die dorstige vlaktes van my serebrum natlei

sodra die oesseisoen kom
moet my hande vol sal staan
van die oorvloed

hoekom moet ek eers wag vir die poëtiese spring-gety
om my met oordrewe strome in
die diepkant te stoot?

woorde is uiteindelik maar net
‘n illusie-spel
so ‘n verraderlike breinknopery

ek kou aan die ink-verdriet
en wil-wil begin snik
oor my mond wat struikel om verdienstelike verse te giet

Wednesday, 29 March 2017

i beg of you

i beg of you -  Lemons, Pelargonium, Turmeric, Cinnamon, Iron, Zinc, Propolis and Vita C
who i downed this morning in my throat, please do not disappoint me
it is perhaps overkill, yet i need overkill this morning,
my lungs and rib cage  do not like this feeling
i scream at the top of my voice:
i need overdose, overdo, over-the-top - i have no choice  -
my chest is a battlefield on which a thousand and more trooping coughs
are bombing my breathing department and turning my energy into a thousand sloths
what if mister Cough never lets me win?
argh, i absolutely refuse to be bogged down and phlegmed in!

four years of coughing is four years too long!
Cough, i have changed my diet for you, even singing you a song
my sleep pattern runs according to your whip
what more can i do for you, strip?
you sneak in anywhere you like
would it please you if i pass you the mic?
you who so like to interrupt my every second sentence
you are really starting to annoy me with you raucous presence
you frazzle my chest, dizzy my brain
o you are such a freakin' pain
you have simply overstayed your welcome
it is time to get going now, you cumbersome scum
yes! Cough, get thee gone
before i wring your neck with this song
come on, go now, before  my insides burn
why don't you take a holiday, and never return?
do not hesitate or procrastinate
for if you'll wait,  i will turn into a more unstable state
do not ask me why or how
the time has come for your occupation of my lungs to end NOW! 

Tuesday, 28 March 2017

ontgin

ek bly skryf in die hoop dat
die dinamiet van my pen
een moerse ontploffing
deur die harde kors van die papier sal ontvonk
en die gehawende fondasies van my skrywershand
in stukke sal breek
sodat nuwe wonderwoorde ontgin kan word

Monday, 27 March 2017

my brein swel op

my brein swel op
wanneer ek ‘n goeie gedig skryf
‘n self-ontginde metafoor
stimuleer die selle om
alledaagse normaliteite en beperkinge te oorskry
dit is my obsessie:
om my breinselle uit hulle nate
te laat bars
met die skryf van ‘n gedig in die oortreffende trap

Sunday, 26 March 2017

heuningkoeke

ek begeer gedigte wat soos
songebakte heuningkoeke
uit my mond sal drup

Sunday, 19 March 2017

verlaat / leave

ons bewandel hierdie wêreld vertrouend dat
ons skaduwee's ons nooit sal verlaat nie
maar op een mooi sonligdag verlaat my skadu my
en gaan soek die warm trillende vel van jou op

* * *

we tread this earth trusting that
our shadows will never leave us
but on one beautful sunlit day my shadow leaves me
and prowls after the warm pulsing skin of you

Saturday, 18 March 2017

swart vlinder

jy is die swart vlinder wat
op my lippe kom land
ek kan skaars asemhaal
met jou fluweel vlerke
wat teatraal my
mond annekseer

Friday, 17 March 2017

verdwaalde skadu-wesens

die verdwaalde skadu-wesens in die dig-geslote vertrek
verlang na die warmte tussen jou bo-bene
smag na die soele gehyg van jou asem
hunker na die bloed wat so vlak onder
die vel in duisende digte takke tril

die skadu-wesens begeer die warm aanraking van jou vel
honger na die driedimensionaliteit van jou kniekoppe
kwyl oor jou polsende borste
en wil weer gevind raak in die donker holtes
van jou lyf

lost shadow creatures

the lost shadow creatures in the tightly shut room
long for the warmth between your legs
sigh after the sultry panting of your breath
desperate for the blood that so close under the skin 
trembles in a thousand dense branches

the shadow creatures desire the warm touch of your skin
hunger after the three-dimensionality of your knee-caps
salivate over your pulsing breasts
and want to be found again in the dark crevices
of your body

Tuesday, 14 March 2017

digtersoog

antjie krog loer uit haar een oog vir my
sy gom my vas met haar kyk
hoe kan so 'n klein digtersoog so baie raaksien?

sy kyk dwarsdeur my
ek moet ander kant toe kyk
of die oog toeplak

sy speel rink-kink met my sinne
ek hou my mond bot-toe in die spel
bang haar oog sien my tong se knoop