Monday, 22 August 2016

ongegrendelde danse

uit hierdie wilde dans steier ek
die roekelose energie
nog taai om my kuite
spin ek uitbundig in sirkels met
die onstuitbare pols wat fakkels deur my are pomp
dit kan net vrugbare klank wees
wat so lewendig in my binnenste kom sit

met ‘n indringerige ritmika
jaag die koors van die wil deur die klank-tonnels
en hervorm my voete tot
primitiewe passies dans

styfgespande spiere tril ritualisties
soos die ongegrendelde danse oor die vlaktes skud
waaragtig! hierdie vasgevange energie ken geen gelyke
die dans praat in een taal
wat alle lywe sonder serebraliteit kan verstaan
as jy ‘n paar druppels van ware vryheid wil proe
sprei jou lyf oop in Die Dans


unbridled dancing

from this wild dance i stumble
the reckless energy
still clinging to my calves
i spin unguardedly in circles with
the irrepressible pulse that pumps firelight through my veins
it can only be fertile sound
that comes and sits so alive in my guts

with an insistent rhythmica
the fever of the will comes charging through the tunnels of sound
and reforms my feet into
primitive pulsations of dance

tautly strung muscles tremble ritualistically
as the unbridled dancing quakes over the plains
yes, indeed! this captured energy knows no equal
the dance speaks in one language
that all bodies fathom without cerebrality
if you want to taste a few drops of true freedom
spread your body open into The Dance

Monday, 15 August 2016

owed to the San

Those who invented neither gunpowder nor compass
Those who tamed neither steam nor electricity
Those who explored neither sea nor sky
But those who know the humblest corners of the country of suffering
Those whose only journeys were uprootings
Those who went to sleep on their knees - Aimé Césaire

from the day the dawn of humanity
licked the skin of your ankles
you carved open the way with your spindly-light tread
with dust on your brows and cracks in your feet
you slipped into sun-warmed valleys and dusky caves
filled them with stone, footprints and chiseled dreams
when the humble ritual of your dancing followed
the stamping of your feet would resound to a most primal beat
and your bony cheeks would break open in smiles
and make the stars dance in the skies
how could a people like you be silenced?

your blood spilt onto the cave-walls of our minds
princes of the lands the one day, wretched slaves the next
your identity torn and scarred
how can we forget?
how can we forget?
and yet, you keep on rising, the first peoples
filled with dreams and confusion, you do your daily deeds
with soil under your nails, you stitch together the continents
you keep your feet and hearts pressed firmly against the roots of the earth
feeling the vibration of mineral strength
earth is happy to feel how lightly
you have imprinted your spoor

how could a people like you be silenced?
when your tongues come to life, pure and spontaneous metaphor
leaks recklessly from your throats
and in filigree syllables
drips like stalactites in our ears
we will listen and
we won’t forget
we won’t forget

with ochre wings your spirits keep flying over mountains 
naked and free just as the wild skies like it
like a haunting hunger the memory of you clings to our bones
and keeps reminding us of the direction into which we should go
that way, that way

a people like you can not be silenced
hear how your voices break through stone and history
see how you have ignited humanity
as you came walking in harmony with the lands
your beauty throbbing with hope in your hands
hope that with or without our selfish will
will keep haunting us still
we will not forget
we will not forget

Sunday, 14 August 2016

beskawing

wat is dit om 
beskaafd 
te wees?

geskaaf van ‘n mens 
se 
wildheid

geskaaf van 
die stekelrigheid
wat jou jy maak

geskaaf om te blink net soos 
al die miljoene ander?

hoekom wil ek deel van ‘n beskawing wees
wat soveel kak aanjaag?!

ek dink dit is by verre 'n beter idee
om rond te rol in 
die lekkerkry 
van 
my ongeskaafdheid 

Wednesday, 10 August 2016

enemas

ek wil stukke digkuns 
oprol in enemas 
en dit opdruk in
die holle van die siellose politici
en hulle verrottende sisteme uitsuiwer

I want to roll up pieces of poetry
into enemas 
and push it up into
the arses of the soulless politicians
and purge their rotten systems

Tuesday, 9 August 2016

offshore

for Martin Wolfhaardt and his jazz band Offshore

synaptic cyclones spark
iridescently in my brain
blisschievous fucking that swoons in
the turbulent waves
making chaotic sense of beauty that has
never been so alive as in these sounds of
sax bass piano and drums

be ready because
it will helix you
and swallow you
into the first hole of existence
boldly filling every crevice of body and space
with orgasmic beats

the blizzard of tone clusters
remap the constellations
my guts tremble shake and reshape
with the driving bass vibrating its
obsidian deep through my buttocks
trancing and spinning me off of my axis

the sounds envelope me like a cave
i can smell the dark mossy corners
encapsulating these momentary strains of
spontaneously masterminded music 
into delicious fever pitch delirium

Sunday, 7 August 2016

metafoor

ek soek geen lomp, 
bak-been metafoor nie

ek soek 'n metafoor 
wat sing 
met 
die heilspellende keelklanke
van 
die blou kraanvoël

Monday, 1 August 2016

between the cavities of my ribs

that is where i want to be
there where continents of sound
flow from my throat and fingers
and i give birth to a whole new earth

there where the mighty poetry
determines the rhythm of the day

i feel the interminable knocking in my throat
the never-ending pricking of my ears
i stand to attention
ready for the mighty verse
to land on my palms with full-blooded wings

i dig in the seashells in search
for the truth of the word
i scratch under the toenails of the ostrich
hungry for the metaphor that will surpass all other metaphors

the words lie like ghostly footprints
on the shadows of the night
refusing to be seen or captured

and yet, like small black poppy seeds
the relentless willpower of
the poetry
lies
between
the
cavities
of
my
ribs

when the word comes
i know how rapturously the syllables
will melt like ripe slices of avocado on my tongue

let me lie deep within the grip of the word
make me swoon, make me unconscious,
make me fly, make me laugh,
make me shiver
and
make me free