die djellie-trip

My pa, Louis skrik nie vir kook, bak en brou nie. Hy is passievol oor proe en eet en smul. En natuurlik probeer hy dikwels nuwe resepte uit! As ek vir hom vra, kan ons dit of dat byvoeg dan sal hy antwoord: "Moer by!"  Een gereg - komkommer jellie - het hy my eendag oortuig om saam met hom te maak ...

die resep maak my lag, die uie maak my tjank
aaarrrrgh, die geraspe van die iengliesh q'cumber vat te lank!
die suurlemoen spat in my oog
o god, dis alles 'n toets vir my kook-geloof.


fok dit! ek gryp die sitroensuur
plug die electric grater in,
sit my sonbril op
 - vir wat sal 'n komkommer,  su'lemoen en ui
my dan nou so onder kry?


ek klits met 'n nuwe lus
niks gaan nou my vuur blus!
dis net poeier van gelatien waar jy kyk,
heuning wat blink tenie mure en oppie lippe pryk.


toe, toe!! paas die dagga en die dill
dis nie nou die tyd om vir groen te gril!
(wat se^ Louix: sommer moerbye ook -
dit sal als die lus bly stook)


hokaai nou! moenie te veel proe en lek!
laat die djellie eers ordentlik stol en set.
binnekrt sal ons die tonge indip
en ons smaakkliere en ingewandes heen vat op die djellie-trip!

die son
skiet
teen
die kranse
breek die klippe
in
honderd
splinters
lig
laat my kop
tuimel
oor die die beurende klip
vryf my gesig met
die grond
van hierdie aarde
maak ek 'n masker
dat
die voorvaders
my kan herken
trap ek diep spore
dat die voormoeders
die trots in my treë kan aanskou
en weet dit is hier waar ek styf aan die lewe wil bly klou

Dankie Liesel Kershoff vir die foto!

http://www.lieselkershoff.com/

Afrika-Dig

(photo by photographer Liesel Kershoff < http://www.lieselkershoff.com/)

this is one of my favourite performance poems that my audience and i have enjoyed since i conceived it in 2009. i have never performed it in English. it is one of those poems that comes to its full right in my mothertongue. Yet for the sake of my English readers, a translation follows.

afrika-dig

ek wil 'n gedig skryf wat soos afrika ruik

wat soos die berge van afrika

onder my voete pols

'n gedig wat soos afrika jou laat voel

dat jy tuis gekom het

'n gedig wat afrika-vas is op my tong

wat gloei soos die afrika-son op my rug

my tong is warm afrika-klip waarop die son vurig neerpyl

en die sonbesies teen die boombas van my keel sing

sing sing sing

die afrika lug en doringbome en krieke

en woestyn-stilte

sing sing sing

afrika uit die woude van my afrika-tong

my gedig wil soos aalwyne die lug steek en

met bloedklanke die ondergaan van my sonswoord

tot stilte en vrede roep

my woorde wil jou roep soos die skaars watergate

in die dorre landskap en die klanke wil dorstig

opgelek word deur die tonge van skugter koedoes

met hierdie gedig wil ek nie sin maak met woord

ek wil my tong soos 'n rotsblok laat tuimel

met die steil kranse af

en met die val wil

ek leer om weer aarde-taal te praat

afrika-aarde taal

africa poem

i want to write a poem that smells like africa

that pulses under my feet

like the mountains of africa

a poem that like africa makes you feel

that you have reached home

a poem that is africa-steady on my tongue

that glows like the africa sun on my back

my tongue is warm africa-stone on which the sun fiery arrows

and the cicadas sing against the bark of my throat

sing sing sing

the africa sky and thorntrees and crickets

and desert-silence

sing sing sing

africa from the forests of my africa tongue

my poem wants to pierce the sky like aloes and

with bloodsounds the setting of my sunword

calls to silence and peace

my words want to call you like the scarce waterholes

in the bare and dry landscape and the sounds want to be

thirstily lapped up by the tongues of shy kudus

with this poem i do not want to make sense with word

i want my tongue to tumble like rock

from the steep kranse

and with the fall

i want to learn again

to speak with the tongue of the earth

africa-earth tongue

dit is soos dit is

A week ago, I cycled through the main road of Hogsback and down the Hogsback pass, in the nude.
4 people wanted to lay charges against me for indecent exposure/public indecency. Thanks to the village's Police Forum the charges were withdrawn. I got phonecalls from various journalists over the past week to hear my side of the story. As far as I know the story featured on the front page of Die Burger, News 24, Die Volksblad and The Weekend Post. I never thought this brief and rather innocent and impulsive moment of fun would cause such a stir. More than criticism I have had support and a real show of interest.
I can write so much on why I do what I do, but I think this poem that I wrote 2 years ago and performed in the nude must speak for me (an English translation follows at the end).

10 years later (2023) I discover this poem by Yeats. I like to include it as the epigraph to the poem

I made my song a coat 

Covered with embroideries 

Out of old mythologies 

From heel to throat; 

But the fools caught it, 

Wore it in the world’s eyes 

As though they’d wrought it. 

Song, let them take it

For there’s more enterprise 

In walking naked.

 - W. B Yeats

dit is soos dit is

- hierdie gedig kom tot sy reg as dit in die naakte liggaam voorgedra word -

dit is soos dit is

in die vlees van my siel

is dit waar die woorde broei

en wat lug soek in die eter van die

naakte siele soos wat hulle saam uit die velle

van mense gebore word

ek kan

nòg meer vel

nòg meer vlees wees

veel meer

as wat ek hier voorgee

dit is soos dit is

die vlees in die naakte warmte van sweet

wat deur skadu van kostuum in 'n hel van klugspel

bedek word

word verwring tot 'n ongenaakbare

banale maskerade

wat is dit wat ek wil bedek met

die weefselkleed van die skaamte

wat die skone vel van sonsoen en

reënval wil weerhou

wil weerhou van die wonderwêreld van sensasie

wat so direk tot die sielshuid spreek?

dit is die waarheid

 die naakte waarheid 

waarin ek vasgevang word om my self uit te druk

soos net die naakte waarheid kan

in die holte van my selfheid

klou ek vas aan die wande van my vel

slegs aan my vel

hang ek vir my lewe

this is how it is

- this poem comes truly to life when it is performed in the nude –

this is how it is

in the flesh of my soul

is where the words breed

where it searches for air in the ether of the

naked souls as they are born together

from the skin of people

i can

be more skin

more flesh

much more

than you are seeing

this is how it is

the flesh in the naked warmth of sweat

that's covered

by shadow of costume in a hell of deceit

becomes contorted in a merciless

banal masquerade

what is it that i want to cover with

the cloth of shame

that shields pure skin

from sun-kiss and rainfall

that shields pulsing skin from the wonder-world of sensation

that speaks so directly so the soul-skin?

it is the truth

the naked truth

in which i am enclosed to express myself

as only the naked truth can

in the hollow of my selfhood

do i cling onto the edges of my skin

only from my skin

do i hang for my life

(The Afrikaans version was published in Ecca 2011 and the South African Literary Journal, New Contrast, 2010)

Ode to Sea-sand

i do not need a second invite
to roll around you, Sea-sand
fly go my clothes
just skin on sand -
what pure seduction
wind and waves
have tasted you
the spaces between every grain
pulse with the memory of the tides
ah, the thrill of you
filling every crevice
of my body
let me never wash!
i can step unfalteringly
over your golden breast
even your bite
when a wind whips
against my ankles
is delight
i do not know
where you come from
yet i would like
to fly with you
on the wind
teach me your
swiftness and
the wisdom of your age

i sing to you,
Sand of the Seas
granules of
finely chiselled Time
men keep their
machinery and gadgets
clean from
you
but oh, come
chafe and sculpt
me
with
your
immeasurable
imagination

Ode to your hands

for Simon

in your hands
lie
a harvest of visions
blessing the earth
and its stones
with their abundant richness
from your palms
rises
the
sun
from between your fingers
shoot
lightning
what divine sculptor's chisel
has webbed them with
such strength
and
such gentleness?
they have touched upon
the
sacred
arrow
kneaded
the
bread
of
life
cupped
water
for
thirst
with them you fly to far horizons and touch the faces of stars
they have carried
heavy
yet they remain
light

two wings in flight

they hold the expansiveness of the constellations
they grasp the
smallness
of
the
trembling leaf
i wish for them
to lie
on
my breast
and to feel
your
heart's
wild
pulse
beating through them
ah, the joy
when you open your hands over me
it is like stepping into
the twilight of the forests
take away food from me
but do not take away your hands

Ode to my feet

ode to my feet

you are by far my favourite part of me

on tar on stone on sand in water

you have burnt blistered bled and bounced

you have carried me through cities forests and grasslands

over coastlines deserts and mountains

shoes have tried to contain you

but your wild spirit keeps kicking them off

you feel the harshness and the smoothness of the land

you set in motion my muscular exploration of space

through you i feel the lightning of life

you are the first to touch the ground every morning i climb into day

i have fallen in love with you

of all my parts you are the least fearful

you show courage - sometime even more than my heart

there are times you tiptoe and sneak silently around corners

yet you do not flinch blush or hesitate

if i prayed i would not pray with my hands

 i would pray with you

my feet

you are the direct route to my soul

Poet, poet speaking bright

This poem finds inspiration in William Blake's poem Tiger, tiger burning bright.


Poet, poet speaking bright
taking words into flight
what human mind or heart
could fathom the extent of thy art?

In what vision or dream
did she find life's stream?
On what wind does she fly
to reach such a high?

Who will listen to her song?
Who will accept her when she goes wrong?
Her eyes are open to see all -
this will make her rise and fall

What rhythm? What verse?
What blessing? What curse
will be unleashed by her pen
to make her passion be felt again?

When the sun sets on her tongue
know that the quest has only begun.
She will need the dark rest
to become her utmost best.

Poet, poet speaking bright
taking words into flight,
what human mind or heart
dare fathom the extent of thy art?

by the thread of my blood

photo taken by Simon Max Bannister at the Mary Fitzgerald Square, Newtown, Johannesburg

by the thread of my blood

I hang for my life

some say blood is a saviour

some say it is a river

some say it is a curse

some say it is too real

some say it is passion

some say it is a gift

some say it is the invitation to the dance

some say it is collective remembrance

some say it is the tide of our bodies

it smells like birth

it tastes like broken stone

it incites killing

it invites healing

it brings together like compassion

it commands life

it inspires love

and it demands nothing but flow,

this sacred river of life

mag ek...

die gedig van e.e. cummings may i feel said he het in my kop gespring toe my ouers 'n woordwisseling gehad het. hier is my vrye verwerking van die toneel (EN die cummings gedig):

kan jy 'n klim-raam vir

my grenadilla-plant maak sê sy

verseker sê hy

is jy seker? sê sy

o ja sê hy

jy is 'n skat sê sy

sê net hoe groot sê hy

so breed en so hoog sê sy

nou maar toe sê hy

dit lyk nie onmoontlik nie

haai dit maak my hart so bly sê sy

niemand anders kan dit doen soos jy

nee! wat maak jy nou? sê sy

ek pas die kalkulasies so bietjie aan sê hy

maar dis nie hoe ek dit wou he sê sy

hou jou bek sê hy

my grenadilla gaan skeef groei sê sy

moenie so stres sê hy

ek gaan iemand anders se hulp kry sê sy

jy waag dit nie sê hy

nou dan doen wat ek sê sê sy

gaan vlieg in jou moer sê hy

ek gaan jou nooit weer vra sê sy

nou maar toe, ek loop nou maar sê hy

ag nee, kom terug sê sy

maar dan los my uit sê hy

onthou so hoog en so breed sê sy

ek gaan die grenadilla se nek omdraai sê hy

try dit net, en ek draai JOU nek om sê sy

die oorspronklike gedig van e.e. cummings:

may i feel said he

may i feel said he
(i'll squeal said she
just once said he)
it's fun said she

(may i touch said he
how much said she
a lot said he)
why not said she

(let's go said he
not too far said she
what's too far said he
where you are said she)

may i stay said he
(which way said she
like this said he
if you kiss said she

may i move said he
is it love said she)
if you're willing said he
(but you're killing said she

but it's life said he
but your wife said she
now said he)
ow said she

(tiptop said he
don't stop said she
oh no said he)
go slow said she

(cccome? said he
ummm said she)
you're divine! said he
(you are Mine said she)

FIRE

(photo editing by Simon Max Bannister)

This is the second part of the Sculpture/Performance poetry piece I conceived and performed earlier this year in Johannesburg with sculptor Coenie Strydom, Life Vitrified / Klei Verewig. I later performed an adapted version of the work at the AfrikaBurn festival in the Tankwa Karoo.

It was performed and originally written in Afrikaans - a much more fiery language than English! Here follows the English translation. The Afrikaans follows thereafter.

II FIRE     

my clay body is devoured by a tornado of flame

i am called to this new burning clan

at the point where i want to melt and dissolve

a mighty flame of vitrification shoots through my veins

and i know, i can withstand the searing pain

with this body that have stood by me through

the flaming years

ah, the excitement that i will soon be stepping outside fire

so that i can pour meaning into the world

with this fired skin

the fire will burn and scorch me, torment and purge me

it will even attempt to extinguish me

yes, the flames will hit me, chew me and try to swallow me alive

it will pull the last tears from my eyes

stand strong!

let the flames come, let it bend and buckle me

let it make me scream

soon it will let my soul glow from within

and let my skin glow from without

the heat waves will keep on growing,

but i will resist, i will fight

have faith in my strength, in my hardiness

like a piece of leather the flame will twist and turn me

so that the flaming power can be lead through

and completely free my cellular potential

have you ever seen, have you ever felt  -

flame can not hold

flame can not cling

it glides flightily, mercurially over skin

even carries the face of a creature from hell

yes, he can burn, but he can not imprison

he can never estrange me from this wonder-earth

burn i will in its flaming path

but free i will stand, free!

so i have learnt to lap up fire with my own tongue

to chew and swallow it so as to ignite my own fire from within

look, the flutter flickering of flame looks just like

the flutter of tongue

sounds just like the flicker of tongue

at home is tongue in flame

it plays along in this burning game

the flame lashes around my limbs

wants to break my skeleton from its seams

i become like wood that fire greedily gorges

so that you there in the far dark corners will know:

this is one smoking and glistening struggle

that will soon spit my body out into pure sculpture

II VUUR

my klei-lyf word verswelg deur ‘n tornado van vlam
word ek geroep tot hierdie nuwe brandende stam
op die punt waar ek wil smelt en verteer
skiet ‘n magtige vlam van gehardheid deur my  are

en weet ek, ek kan die skroeiende pyn ontbeer
met hierdie lyf wat getrou saam met my staan deur

die vlammende jare

ah, die opwinding dat ek binnekort buite vuur gaan trap
en betekenis met hierdie aangevuurde kliplaag in my

wêreld gaan tap

die vuur sal my brand, sal my skroei, folter en naai
dit sal selfs poog om my nek om te draai
ja, die vlamme sal my kap, kou en

lewend insluk
die laaste trane uit my oë pluk

hou uit! staan vas!
kom wat wou, laat hy my loei
laat hy my skroei
binnekort sal hy my gees van binne
en my vel van buite rooiwarm laat gloei
die hittegolwe sal bly groei,

maar ek sal aanhou baklei en stoei
hê geloof in my standvastigheid, in my dikvelligheid
soos ‘n stuk leer sal vlam my brei
om die vlamme-krag deur te lei
en so my sellulêre potensiaal toet en taal te bevry

het jy al gesien, het jy al gevoel –
vlam kan nie vashou
vlam kan nie vasklou
hy glip, gly vlugtig, kwiksilwerig oor vel
dra selfs die aangesig van ‘n kreatuur uit hel
ja, hy kan brand, maar hy kan nie gevangene neem
sal my nooit van van hierdie wonder-aarde kan vervreem
brand sal ek in sy vlammende baan
maar vry sal ek bly staan

so het ek geleer om vuur met my eie tong op te lek
te kou en maag toe te sluk om so my eie Vuur op te wek
kyk, die fladder flonkering van vlam lyk nes

die fladder van tong
klink nes die flonker van tong
tuis is tong in vlam
dit hoort so graag aan hierdie brandende stam

met sweepslae krul die vuur om my ledemate
wil my skelet breek uit haar nate
word ek soos hout wat vuur gulsig vreet
dat julle daar in die doer donker vertes sal weet:
hierdie is een rokende en glinsterende gewroeg
wat my liggaam spoedig tot suiwer beeld gaan uitspoeg

Voices in Song

Voices in song

let the voices of the world

be fire in our souls

let the voices of the world

be water in our mouths

let it sing into the agelessness of time

and make us believe we are beauty

we are sun we are river

we are stone we are air

we are that which gives us life

let the voices of the world

teach us to feel

to burn

to flow

to be utterly alive

let our voices rise

like the flame rises

like the tide rises

we are life

we are elemental

we are voices that sing

that weep

we are voices that

come alive

as soon as

breath is born

the vast space begs to be filled

with that sweeping line of voice

that colours space with that wondrous harmony

that is so strongly at home in our soul

let the voices vibrate

let the voices cascade through our souls

and let us live livelier than ever before

let the voices break through the forests

break through the ocean

let fish and bird hear we can

resonate with song just as they can do

i want to be there where the soul sings

because of this life’s blessedness

let us give love through our voices

let us share this voice we have had from birth

silence is blessed

yet singing is more so

it is a resonating of the soul

a baptizing within that vibration that gives life

to our hearts and minds

the voice moves like flame

searching for air and when it is released

it gushes forth like a new spring

the voice of fire

the voice of river

let it not be silenced

let it sound

let it burn

let it flow

we can sing

we want to sing

we need to sing

if we raise our voices, let it be in song

In die grond en blom skyn die hoop

Hier die gedig wat ek spesiaal vir die FLORHA! vertoning in die Baxter Teater, Rondebosch, Kaapstad geskryf en opgevoer het >> die foto's is tydens die opvoering geneem >>

In die grond en blom skyn die hoop

En so het sy opgestaan uit die blomme-velde,

'n besete vrou gevul met drome van die aarde se diepe waters

so doen sy haar daaglikse pligte met grond onder haar naels,

borduur sy die lande aan een met die stingels van blomme

sy is alleen, net sy en haar tien vingers,

soms van haar kop af, maar altyd geheg aan haar hart en haar blomtuin

sy is deels vrou, deels aarde, deels blom

hoor hoe haar stem deur die blom-woude breek!

kyk hoe sy haar menswees bevry

deur met grond en blom liefde te maak

in grond en blom skyn die hoop

wat nog by ons mense spook

sy het vele sonkoper velde ontdek langs die kusste

het hul gevul met voetspore vol ryp wense

die dou lek sy vroeg-oggend van die lelie-blare

vee haar wange met die sagte son wat deur die struike breek

sing sy alomheen die liedere wat resonant oor die vlaktes aanrol

'n vrou soos hierdie mag nie stil bly!

hoor hoe haar stem deur die blom-woude breek!

kyk hoe sy haar menswees bevry

deur met grond en blom liefde te maak

in grond en blom skyn die hoop

wat nog by ons mense spook

dit is daar waar sy wil wees

daar waar blomme vry, wild en helder kan bloei

waar grond diep gegtrap kan word

waar groen, geel, oranje, pers en rooi

rys uit modder en 'n nuwe wêreld aanbreek

ja, dit is daar waar sy wil wees

daar waar haar siel saam resoneer met die seismiese aardskuiwings

wat tril met die geboorte van elke nuwe blom

daar waar grond haar die ritme van wind en water leer

haar leer hoe om haar vel ten volle te voel

soos wat net 'n blom kan voel

blom sing haar lyf uit elke hoek en porie

tril die vrugbaarheid regdeur haar voetsole

trap sy versigtig want blomtyd is 'n vlugtige en delikate seisoen

en tog dans sy diep, hard en vinnig omdat blomtyd uitbundig en grensloos is

hoor hoe haar stem deur die blom-woude breek!

kyk hoe sy haar menswees bevry

deur met grond en blom liefde te maak

in grond en blom skyn die hoop

wat nog by ons mense spook

grond is bly om te voel hoe diep vrou haar spoor trap

blom is bly om te sien hoe passievol sy deur die vreugde van kleur stap

sy druk haar lippe en bors ferm teen die aarde

voel die vibrasie van die magtige minerale groei

wat stoot en rys deur wortel en blaar

hoe lank het sy vir hierdie blomtyd gewag!

nóú is dit hier en blom sy saam met een helse vrugbare krag