Emergence / Home

I have been invited to write and perform poetry for the opening ceremony of the International Aquarium Congress presented at the Cape Town International Convention Centre on Monday 10 September. It will be the first time that The Two Oceans Aquarium in Cape Town will be hosting this prestigious event (and the first time to be hosted in Africa and the southern hemisphere). I have been given specific guidelines to relate a certain narrative. There are three poems that I will be performing between visual projections and live music. Seeing that I was not completely free to write "as I please" I was faced with challenges. It is a complex yet interesting endeavour to write for scenarios like opening ceremonies. The text need to be clear, understandable, accessible and still moving and poetic. It was requested that each poem should be around a minute long. I have included here the first poem. (I am still slightly shy about the 2nd and 3rd poems for they don't sound completely sincere and genuine; they have something a bit "cliche" about them.) I have never struggled so much to strike a balance between a  vision, aesthetic, intelligence and  inspiration without it bordering on  "corniness". Yet I rest on the hope that the text will be experienced as part of a greater drama.

PART I

- Emergence / Home –

before breathing began

before hearts started to beat

before hunger struck consciousness

deep and dark pools grew

emerging from a liquid spark

bursting forth slowly and silently into the first throbbing cells

pulsing through darkness

holding onto the waves that thrust

their virility into hungry life

chiseling cathedral cavities

where tidal pools shape and temper consciousness

casting an oceanic spell on all living things

moulding watery awareness in all of life's core

clinging onto that instinct to dive, to swim

deep

deep

into the womb of life

oh , ocean, you make the earth stand to attention!

feel and listen to the resonating growth in the organic pool

filling this great reservoir of life with marine mysteria

feel and see the grand variety of colours and rhythms

exploding in abundance in one of life's most monumental dramas

the glistening peaks of waves

exalt with tremors of

deep

deep

memories

that build up the knowledge

that these waters

these fine waters

these wild waters

were our very first home

Gedig sonder grense - a failed attempt

uit die binnewerke van my maag

breek daar 'n butterfly los toe ek hoor

ek moet 'n gedig sonder grense skryf

nou vir wat wil ek my tong se grense oorskry?

ek breek alreeds so baie reëls

kan ek nie vir eens binne perke bly?

ek raak nou moeg vir gedurig my sondes bely

ek's alreeds haaks en steeks

nou wil julle hê ek moet my arme taal

uit sy seams laat breek!

die butterfly hy fladder nou wild

want die fifteen minutes hardloop hele-mal te vinnig uit!

jirre dit vat lank om 'n gedig sonder grense te skryf

ek try blêrrie hard

om soes 'n kjênd van die streets te klink

dit kô nie naturally om op my gat te sit en dig nie

dêmmit!

gee my 'n fiets

gee my 'n wind

dis al hoe ek seemingly reguit kan dink!

18 augustus, helenvale poets' workshop

The Arrow Lattice

This poem is inspired by the engraved pieces of ochre discovered at the Blombos caves situated on the Southern Cape coast. These pieces are dated to be about 75 000 years old and regarded as the oldest known art work and a clear sign that the people from Middle Stone Age  were functioning  and behaving cognitively in a modern and sophisticated way. Thanks to Simon Bannister who introduced me to this remarkable piece of history and initiating the process to engage poetically with the markings of the ancients. (The title of the poem is Simon's creation)

http://simontothemax.blogspot.com/2011/09/mark-of-ancients.html

photo sourced from www.chrisknight.co.uk

 photo taken of the initial ideas of Simon Bannister's The Arrow Lattice

The Arrow Lattice

I look intently through

the Arrow Lattice

I

I see a thirst for line and movement

I

I

I see the first stirrings of a restless and

craving mind setting civilization's imagination aflame

I

I

I

I see the velocity of time

I see a hunger for rhythm and rhyme

I

I

I

I

i see the hand made to order and geometrize

i see the philosophies of the old and wise

I

I

I

I

I

I see the scribblings of an absent mind

i see the sweat of the daily grind

I

I

I

I

I

I

i see the whetting of the arrow

i see the net capturing freedom and flow

I

I

I

I

I

I

I

i see a species searching frantically for the satiation of their fears

I

I

I

I

I

I

I

I

i see a confrontation with loss

I

I

I

I

I

I

I

I

I

I see a caged-in wildness

I

I

I

I

I

I

I

I

I

I

i see a lonely species

I

I

I

I

I

I

I

I

I

I

I

unravelling

I

I

I

I

I

I

I

I

I

I

I

I

yet

I

I

I

I

I

I

I

I

I

I

I

I

I

when i stand further i see

I

I

I

I

I

I

I

I

I

I

a window

I

I

I

I

I

I

I

I

a bridge

I

I

I

I

I

I

I

I

a language

I

I

I

I

I

I

I

a beauty

I

I

I

I

I

I

a togetherness

I

I

I

I

I

a conncectedness

I

I

I

I

I see the thoughtfulness of an involved mind

I

I

I

i see the integration of wonderment and order,

genius and desire

I

I

i see an aesthetic carved in awed respect for the gift of earth

I

i see

the
shaping
of

a
heart

i see    the      expansion         of            the                  universe

don't take that away

theatrical innocence clings to the seats of the unavoidable audience

within the cavities feeling the sticky claustrophobia

            hanging onto the structures

            tightly woven into laughing genitalia

                                                rattle the Greeks' walls

            please let us not have age restrictions

            it discriminates against the adults who have impressionable souls and minds

                                                           

                                                            put a star on your cock

                                                                        birds are known to give stellar performances

                        don't steal my dignity

                        and of all things don't steal my lightness

between

                        me and you

                        a dance is churning e~l~e~c~t~r~i~c~i~t~y

            please don't take away

            the warmth between us

and,

            and,

                        and

                                                            the intent look

                                                            don't take that away

Tankwa Reflex

Tankwa Reflex - Performance piece and art installation at AfrikaBurn 2012



photo: Gary van Wyk

photo: Conrad Lattimer

 

photo: Henry Fagan

 Here is a selection of poems that formed part of my performance piece "Tankwa Reflex" I performed at AfrikaBurn this year. I printed and laminated over 40 different poems to drift on water being contained in 30 green enamel bowls. Granny Smith apples were placed in a star-shape around the bowls. The piece served as an installation art work, as well as a setting for the performance poetry piece I presented on the Friday and Saturday of the festival. 
I really enjoyed the way the piece was received. I do not like to impose a definite interpretation on the piece. When people came up to me and asked "does the star-shape signify anything?" or "what do the apples mean?" or "why all this water?" then I would answer "what does it all mean to YOU?" Sometimes an art work need not be explained, but simply experienced. There was so much poetry within this specific piece - the glistening light falling on the water and the mirror-mosaic, the colour and taste of the apples, the wonderment and curiosity on the viewers' faces. "Tankwa Reflex" is simply an open-ended reflective interaction with art and performance. Within the piece there were definite ingredients giving it a shape and feel, yet what the piece stood for was as varied as the people who experienced the piece.

I should add that the incredible rain and flash hail-storm that broke through the skies on the day before the first performance made me experience the piece and the poetry in a different light. The Tankwa Karoo, where the festival is hosted each year, is known for its desert climate. If you want water there, you have to bring it yourself. No taps, no rivers. Thus, for the first time in the fest's 6-year history the rain and hail did come as a surprise and a challenge to many. Some of the art works and theme camps were "re-shaped" and "re-distributed" by the winds and rain, yet the festival-goers and artists retained their sense of humour and AfrikaBurn spirit and most of us rose to the occasion and came out the better.

A special thank you to Andreas and Chantell who made the mirror mosaic.
A big thank you to the apple seller in Paarl who gifted me the 700 apples and a hearty thank you to all the photographers who shared their photographs so generously with me.

photo: Tim Honey

Entrance of the Waters

Beloved of the rivers, beset

By green growth and transparent drops,

Like a tree of veins your spectre

Of dark goddess biting apples:

And then awakening naked

To be tattoed by the rivers,

And in the wet heights your head

Filled the world with new dew.

Water rises to your waist,

You are made of wellsprings

And lakes shine on your forehead.

From your sources of density you draw

Water like vital tears

You pull the sands of ancient riverbeds

across celestial nights,

Crossing rough, dilated stone,

Breaking down on the way

All the salt of geology,

Cutting through forests of compact walls

Dislodging the muscles of quartz.

Make way for the entrance of the Waters!

- Pablo Neruda

photo: Tim Honey

 Life will break you. Nobody can protect you from that, and living alone won't either, for solitude will also break you with its yearning. You have to love. You have to feel. It is the reason you are here on earth. You are here to risk your heart. You are here to be swallowed up. And when it happens that you are broken, or betrayed, or left, or hurt, or death brushes near, let yourself sit by an apple tree and listen to the apples falling all around you in heaps, wasting their sweetness. Tell yourself you tasted as many as you could.

- Louise Erdrich

photo: Tim Honey

 your wild and green veins have grown to this rocky outpost of my thirsting heart

i trust that sustenance will be found even in the most bare and dry season

it is the tip-ends of your tenacious roots that beat fiercest with craving life

and it'll grope and push through this wild darkness till it finds that rarest and sweetest of water

- Lara Kirsten

photo: Tim Honey

Climb

into

the present,

step

by step,

press your feet

onto the resinous wood

of this moment,

going up,

going up,

not very high,

Don't go all the way to heaven.

Reach

for apples,

not the clouds.

You

are

your present,

your own apple.

Pick it from

your tree.

Raise it

in your hand.

It's gleaming,

rich with stars.

Claim it.

Take a luxurious bite

out of the present,

and whistle along the road

of your destiny.

From "Ode to the present" by Pablo Neruda

photo: Conrad Lattimer

 stand in your own water!

only from your own spring

can you come to life

only from your own deep well of water

can you reach the heights of your being

stand tall in your fountain

stand strong in your rich cellular potential

grow wild and far

turn this handful of water into a wave

and turn this wave

into

your

ocean

~

- Lara Kirsten

photo: Gilles Chevalier

 Be wild as water

write, erase and rewrite

your purpose and direction.

Feast

on your seasonal moods

of fertility, fragmentation

self ruin and silence.

Be faithful

to the fire in your heart.

Strike the earth!

Split the sky!

Be true

to your shifting essence

of ice, mist and flow

and your curving bow

of liquid colour.

- Ian McCallum

photo: Conrad Lattimer

in die holte van my hand

hou ek die water van die land

en prewel 'n soete inkantasie

smekend dat ek van water kan leer

hoe om vlugtig deur jou vingers te vloei

en aarde toe te val sonder weerstand

in the hollow of my hand

i hold the water of the land

and murmur a sweet incantation

begging to learn from water how to

flow flightily through your fingers

and fall to the earth without resistance

- Lara Kirsten



photo: Gilles Chevalier

i look deep into the water

try to find its voice to teach me the rhythm of its flow

ah, i hear you water

i feel you water

i smell you water

i taste you water

i see you water

what will become

of me

without you?

- Lara Kirsten

photo: Gilles Chevalier

in touch with water

i am me

i am

uttterly

me

in touch with water

you are you

utterly

you

-

cup the water of life in your own hands

and bring to your mouth

swallow

and be blessed

- Lara Kirsten

Wit

in wit wil ek wees

in wit wil ek myself skilder

geen skaamte op my wang laat bloos nie

in geen vrees my vlerke laat val nie

in wit skone wit wil ek wees

skim

spook

'n denkbeeldigheid

kan dit dalk op eerste sig lyk

maar wit so waaragtig as wit sal ek wees

ek wil nie meer wegkruip agter kleur en

fladder en spier en spring en vlieg nie

ek wil hier

wees

net

hier

wees

en in wit sal dit moet wees

kleur my hele lyf wit in

laat geen ander kleur deurskyn

net wit

altyd wit

in wit wil ek praat 

in wit wil ek sing

in wit wil ek dig

in wit wil ek slaap

laat ek alle kleure verwit

laat wit my hele wese oorneem

elke spier

elke gedagte

elke tree

elke asem

laat dit in wit wees

kleur verlei

kleur maak deurmekaar

gee

my

eerder
die
eenvoud
van

wit