Wednesday, 27 March 2013

eavesdropping


as a matter of fact
it goes without saying
you know
i agree
to tell the truth
but it all depends
you see
they say
it is wellknown
relatively speaking
live in the moment
however
don't forget
to look at it in this light
it is like i say
i heard the other day
click on this link
bru you have to check it out
the kiefest thing i've ever seen
it has come under my attention
time is running out
deadlines
deadlines
deadlines
cross your fingers
smell the flowers
and the world will smell with you
can't we get a move on?
though
maybe
perhaps
however
it would appear
contrary to popular belief
the wheels are gonna fall off
great!
any questions?
so you think you can
eat pray love?
well i never
in more ways than one
i have no doubt in my mind
statistics show
regrettably
the weather looks good today
excellent!
indeed
in retrospect
who would have thought
i will make it
you understand?
how many times do i have to tell you
shit happens
not now
some other time
will it be a problem?
i'll text you
it should be emphasized
i believe
ja
it has come to this
i fear
forever and ever
aweh and amen

Tuesday, 26 March 2013

jy probeer sy dimorfika sonder xenofobia te aanskou

onbelangstellend kyk die stuk wit my in die
oog lag vir my dat ek aanhitser-aanhitser speel
"vir wat wil hierdie versie-maker nou my mooi

blanke vlak beswart met woorde?" is dit nie al
hierdie versameling woorde wat hierdie rommelary
in die wêreld veroorsaak nie? wat sal gebeur as

ons elk 'n kloosterbestaan inval sal ons dan ophou
om ons koppe te insemineer met opgesmukte idee's
dit is die noodlot met die pratende monde

ly ons nie maar almal aan eggolalie nie?
van toentertyd bly ons neerskryf jirre, die
palimpses val al uitmekaar soos 'n verrotte

sakdoek ons verliefdheid op ons sogenaamde vryheid
maak ons ewige slawe van hierdie enkele idee
boender hierdie malligheid weg! koop

splinternuwe moed by die padstalletjie om die
draai smeer fango-modder op jou gesig en
begin sing in kontrapunt ons vermaaklikheidsmania

wil heeltyd die ogiesdraad van ons grense oorskry
roep al jou kornuite saam nooi hulle vir ratatouille
moenie stres as hulle die eiervrug opslobber voordat

dit gebak het nie en pasop vir hulle dipsomaniese tendensies
jy het net soveel stamina om hulle sodomitiese gewoontes
te verduur maar in jou mou voer jy al lank planne om hulle

onder jou dwingelandy te bring jy weet nie presies hoe nie
maar jy het genoeg optimisme om in jou visie te bly glo
jy giet 'n okarina in die doodsuur van die nag sodat

jy teen sonsopkoms met al die suurstof in jou longe
die oggendsinjaal kan blaas die plaveisel kraak op
drie plekke in plaas van die dipsomaniakke wakker

maak roep die fluit vir Pan uit sy sluimering die lug raak
vir 'n oomblik newelig jy voel soos 'n slaapwandelaar
hande uitgesteek dryf jy deur die dynserigheid

jy sien mettertyd Pan se ragfyn slaapkouse aan sy bokpote
jy is oorstelp van vreugde van alle plekke en tye maak hy
hier by jou sy verskyning jy probeer sy dimorfika sonder

xenofobia te aanskou maar kry dit nie so maklik reg nie
met ongekunstelde panache kom hy sy lyf en asem soos
'n wilde rankplant om jou lyf vlei jy voel hoe die soele

warmte van 'n opwinding deur jou lendene en brein smelt
maar voordat jy met jou oooh en aaaah dwepery kan begin
span hy jou in met die disselboom jaag hy jou soos 'n pakdier

deur die strate en voer die mees ongenadige klopjag uit jy bly
loop met 'n aangeleerde lankmoedigheid jy hoor hoe
sy kloppende hoewe die straat agter jou uitkalwe jy droom

van pamperlang en dolce far niente en gesprekke gevul met
pleonastiese toutologieë maar voel hoe hierdie wilde ding die
leisels stywer trek soos wat die gesigseinder net nie nader wil

kom die mees gehardste seerower sou jou met meer sensitiwiteit
hanteer wat de hel, jy het jou maandelikse paaiemente altyd betyds
betaal wat is sy vendetta? het hy 'n kontantvloei-probleem? was sy

vorige projek om 'n oligargiese hel te proseliteer?
ironies hoe die oënskynlike vryste wese tussen ons
sy eie wilde planne het om ons vryheid vir homself te vat

Saturday, 9 March 2013

this higgledy-piggledy poem will soon do a posthumous twinge

you hopscotch through your vocabulary and wish with a dose of humility
that you will be able to reassemble all your wild running thoughts
into
one
riotously
terrific
poem
the words push you forth inexorably
if you don't play along you will turn into a deranged riparian
this long drawn-out hiatus keeps your wordy soul from doing its rigorous growing
is it something in the air that makes you so hard-headedly huffish?
you wrench the words from the dictionary scream it out aloud, regardless of
the tympanitis that the walls might suffer from
your pen can sometime be an introverted cuttle-fish
too demure, too shy or too whatever to spurt out its ink
there are rich golden hives out there that you wish would incubate your tongue
and let it grow into the most resoundingly resplendent hunting horn
but oh the chassis of your being can at any moment detach itself from sanity
and go forth into a Homeric rising of the X-factorising of the mind
jeeez, this makes your cellular make-up feel all too yeasty for your liking
this continuous detouring into twaddling...
don't you sometime wish you could turn yourself into a rapacious despot
and ravish the world with some high faluting howdah?
even the wood nymphs, periwinkles, hermaphrodites and rhebuck will
fall under your yoke
how awesome!
but enough now of this cubiclelized talk!
why can't you break out more often in some desultory ribaldry
forget about rationing the mind
let it loose!
annexate the hippodrome put on your mantle and smile your cherubic smile
you'll start speaking in tongues and writing in hieroglyphs
oh, stop this hoity toity hoodwinking and talk straight
take the tweezers and pull out the thorn of thine own foot
irrigate your mouth with turpentine
look up to the cerulean skies
lose that pot-belly of laziness
dethrone your cut-throat desires and lift the curfews of the man-made laws
learn to play the hurdy-gurdy and stop all rivalry
it will be good for your health
what if you go for some good ol' hydrotherapy
the jaundice-colour in your cheeks will lift
this higgledy-piggledy poem will soon do a posthumous twinge
hip hip hoorah!