Thursday, 30 April 2015

The Cross Roads VI

On a moonless night the Loner awakens by some stirring 
in his stomach and decides to go strolling around the Cross Roads. 
As he walks he mumbles to himself. All of a sudden he stumbles 
over something. It is the sleeping body of the Wretch.
He grumbles and turns around to continue his sleep. 
“I never knew this is where the Wretch sleeps. 
Isn’t the poor fool freezing out on these plains?”
Not too fussed about the comfort of the Wretch, the Loner
walks back to the Cross Roads. As the sun is rising he reaches
his pile of rocks. He fumbles through his little heap of earthly goods. 
“What do I have to do to get something to eat? I’m so tired of 
this hunger. I don’t know how the others stay alive.”
As the sun is revealing its full splendour the Carillon
commences its jolly morning song.
“Oh shut up, you blingy belly thing!” shouts the groggy Cave-Dweller.
“Can’t we just for once sleep the day away?”
“Argh, shut our own trap!” the Prehistoric Postal Agent hits back.
The Cave-Dweller clearly in a scurrilous mood reveals
what everyone has been thinking about:
“We have been here for time immemorial and we have
depleted all our food. There are no more roots, bulbs, fruit,
seeds, nuts and grasshoppers to be found.
I have lost all my energy and lust for life.”
“Thank Godot someone else is also thinking about their stomachs!”
the Loner vociferates.
Up until now no-one knew that the Loner has been rationing
his last piece of guava since last Winter’s harvest.
He takes it out from under his pile of rocks and lovingly rolls
the pink fruit in his palms. As salivation starts forming on
everyone’s lips, the Wretch comes plodding over the plains from
his cold and exposed sleeping spot and eyes the feeding proceedings
with great interest.
Unlike his non-sharing nature, the Loner cuts the remnant of the
guava into four miniscule pieces and hands it out to the
four other denizens of the Cross Roads.
“Oh, someone is in a generous mood.” the Anarchist glibly sputters out.
The Loner, stung to the quick, snatches the guava piece from
the Anarchist’s hand.
“You don’t deserve my giving spirit!” the Loner cries out.
“I want that piece!” screams out the Wretch. “I have been here
for much longer than any of you.”
The Carillon chimes in “What about me?
No one ever thinks of my alimentary needs!”

The links to the previous five Cross Roads poems >

Wednesday, 29 April 2015

vat ek hierdie veranderende gesig van my vas

hierdie gesig wat van dag tot dag 
haar eie wispelturigheid volg
ek het geen houvas op dit wat 
die hoeke en kontoere en lyne 
van hierdie gesig bepaal nie
geen kamera spieël waterpoel of venster-weerkaatsing
stem ooreen met die gevoel 
van hierdie gesig nie
ek dink, nóú, gaan ek hierdie veranderende gesig van my vasvat
dan glip sy deur my vingers
en lag sy vir my narcissistiese wil om skoonheidsbeheer!

staan

in die nie-aanvaarding van 'n sit-lewe 
staan
ek 
en 
skryf 
hierdie 
gedig 
nou kan ek waarlik sê 
ek dink op my voete

Tuesday, 28 April 2015

die soeke

heen en weer spring my oë in die soeke
na waarde en ‘n opregte klank van lewe
ek kyk in die boomtoppe
teen die rand van die berg
op die donker vlek van my skaduwee

ek spits my aandag op
die krake in die muur en holtes in die grond
iewers skuil en broei dit fungus-stil
ek soek in die heuningpot se taai deksel
in altwee my broekspype
in al die deure se sleutelgate
dalk sit dit in die stof wat geruisloos in hoeke vergader

waar kan dit wees?
ek klim op die dak en kyk vandaar die vertes in
en roep met luide sillabes na die vreemde werkinge van vrede
en die geheimenisse van kreatiewe drange
om hulself uit hulle esoterika te ruk
en hulle helder verskyning te maak

moenie te ver kyk
dit sit moontlik hier reg op my voorkop
op die gehardheid van my sternum
tussen die riffels van my verhemelte
dalk net duskant my tempels
of in die heilspellende holte van my hand

ek soek dit in die lig in mense se oë
probeer dit vind in die toesprake van helde
in die voetsole van die ontdekkingsreisigers
in die asem van die Buddha
by die oprig van brûe
dalk is dit daar by die geboorte van babas
of tussen die vere van die digter se kopkussing

ek hardloop met ‘n oop mond die wind in

die soeke sal nooit stop

ek vou my hande so styf in mekaar
dat die kneukels wit staan soos sampioene

toegewyd sal ek bly in hierdie soeke

Friday, 24 April 2015

Groot Gees

sit al die ligte af
brand mpepho en salie
roep die geeste van die Woord op
onttrek myself van enige drink of eet
ek uiter geen woord
is stil en oop vir
die manifestasie van
‘n rustige ongretigheid

vanself begin my lyf draai in ‘n kolk om en om
word ek dronk op die suiwerende oomblik van
die letterlike loutering
trek die walms van die brandende kruie
diep in my longe
sien hoe die woordgeeste
vorm begin aanneem in
hierdie rare aardse verskyning

die rillings breek uit oor my hele lyf 

o die oomblik kom nader
die arrivering van die Groot Gees van die Digkuns
het aangebreek
sy asem hang soos dik stoom in die vertrek
ek ruik sy woorde in die diep donkerte van die stilte
die letters drup soos warm kerswas op my hoof
moenie probeer om dit af te vee
laat dit drup drup drup in my skoot en
kwiksilwerig uitdartel op die ouija bord

ah ah aaaaah
dis onmoontlik om weg te kyk
die hipnotika is sterk in hierdie oomblik
in die mees heilsame asemrowing
hoor ek hoe die lettergrepe in die mond van
die Groot Gees die
mees magiese gedig uitspel ...

Thursday, 23 April 2015

ek wil

ek wil so 
hoog die lug 
in kreun dat 
die cumulus wolke 
in 
honderd 
nuwe
verbeeldings 
breek

Sunday, 19 April 2015

I will face the City


i stand waiting for The City to come to rest
waiting for the sun to fall down west
and when the darkness comes
i refuse to leave
i will face The City
hear her cry
hear her lullaby
i must resist my need to turn my back on her
however her breath smells
i will face The City
whatever dress she wears
i will face her
face her tears
hear her song
look her in the eye
do not lose sight of her
who can be more full of willful life than her -
she who can breathe through steel and concrete
i will not delay my greeting her with my breath and body
for she keeps on nourishing from her sooty breasts
i will suckle now because feeding season is fleeting
and hold my peace a little longer in this momentary meeting

Thursday, 16 April 2015

and so i can only keep running

and so i can only keep running on with all that i am
through labyrinths of letter and sound
through blood dances and filtrated information
through frames of technologica and self-images
blinding fears, genetica and freedoms
through sorrow and flowers
through choirs of wild voices
through african soil and mirrors
and always through love
i run and push my way through
how can i stop when such a path lies under my feet?
i search incessantly for satiation in this mercurial organica
how rich are the depths that my feet feel in that
sprinting splitting moment
i thrust through with my whole being
with winds chanting around my calves
words boiling and insurgent in my jowls
i weave my way through dark and light
sometimes seeing, sometimes blind
i can not but quake with this tenacious willpower
to tread over the uncertainties of skin and mind
stitching together the scattered remnants of ecstasy still found
in the pristine crevices of the heart

Wednesday, 15 April 2015

laat ons terugkeer hiernatoe

met die arrivering van die winter-seisoen
staan ek gereed met vlamme wat warm oor my skeen flits
ek sien ver voor uit in 
die onvreedsaamheid van die wêreld
as ek sou bid dan is dit nou
want iets skort in die lewe
die harmonie van saamleef en skep
en mekaar die vryheid van grond en atmosfeer gun

in die uithoeke van ons bestaan sal daar
nog humor moet vasklou om ons siele te red
want as ons eers ons waardigheid verloor het met
die uitwissing van liefde en vrede
gaan ons nie veel hê om aan vas te hou

laat die basuinende klanke van visionêre stemme diep in
die holtes van ons ore vibreer – helder stemme wat 
ons uit ons hibernasie sal pluk
en ons bloed die rigting sal wys
en asseblief, herinner ons om te skep in plek van ruineer
en dat dit ook okay is 
om te observeer eerder as om te reageer

leef met oop gemoedere en juig uitbundig oor
al die passievolle mooi wat 
pols en groei uit hande en monde
laat ons nooit ophou leer
laat ons bly kyk na die groei van
die sade in en om ons
laat ons sonder voorbehoud wortel en blaar spruit
wat van lig en son
skadu en vorm sal maak

laat ons terugkeer hiernatoe:
die eenvoud van skep
laat vaar die kompleksiteite en hoogdrawendhede
stroop die skeppingsdaad tot iets
so vaartbelyn en ongerep
dat ‘n enkele resonans die pupil van die hart
sal laat oopblom en tot verligting ruk

Tuesday, 14 April 2015

forgery

no photographs are allowed because 
this interminable cornucopia of images 
only exhibits our fear of forgetting 
our uproarious forgery of smirks!

Monday, 13 April 2015

gaping

as the scrounging billboards saunter into your eyes
and scrape all your gullibility into your gaping mouth
the moles dive deeper into the earth

Friday, 10 April 2015

kleef

die lewe kleef met al sy indringerigheid
al om my asemhaling
ek hardloop my lam
deur soet, taai en steek woude
die adrenalien jaag deur my are
ek draai al om en om
wonderend of die rigting waarin ek invlieg
die regte ene is
my hart wil nie ophou klop
dit probeer met al sy spierkrag
al die smart uit my hart te pomp
maar niks wil werk nie
al wat uitkom is die hoes uit my bors
wat die newelrigheid van my bewolkte siel vertolk
ek knoop my tong so styf as wat ek kan
waarvan die hart vol is
moet my mond nie van oorloop