Die soen

ek kan niks anders vind wat beter is as

die soen van jou mond teen myne

met die soen word

ons monde en koppe een

ons weet nie watter lippe watter tong watter tande

is myne

en

watter is joune

om jou te soen is om 'n woudpad voor my

te sien oopbreek in die skemer van die dag

om jou te soen is 'n verrukking wat my hele lyf omswaai

en in 'n heel nuwe wentelbaan gooi

om jou te soen is om myself te verdrink in die kelk van 'n papawer

ek voel die lente deur jou lippe breek

dit proe na koel-soet dou in die vroeë oggendure

jou soen wat liefde so eindeloos spreek dat dit

my hart bont-vol laat staan van oorvloed

ek kom soek my asem

ek kom soek my asem op hierdie papier

ek kom delf vir 'n bietjie vrede vir my hart

uit  in die oopte verloor ek my bedaardheid

met enige wenteling van die oomblik

ek verloor kop

ek snak na my asem

my keel trek op 'n knop

al wat ek weet

is dat as ek kom skryf

raak dit stil in my

as ek sin maak op papier

dan begin dinge sin maak om my

eenvoud-dig

ek wil net slaap

maar hier staan ek

met my uil pantoffels

voor die laptop en

maak sin van die

punt blare wat wieg

in die wind die

hoenderhaan kraai die duif

tortel ek sug en die

rooi kar sny deur

die grondpad en groen

weivelde dit trek my

oog na die bottelborsel

wat net so lekker

aan't wieg is en

ek raak op my

voete aan die slaap

ek moet net nog

een keer kyk na

wat daar so graag

gesien wil word my

oё raak weg in die

jasmyn en die plantasies

en my ore word

ge-abba deur krieke ek

hoor die vlieg agter

tralies ek maak die

venster oop

hy vlieg buitentoe

en laat my

alleen

hier binne agter

First drop

For Kim

Your love
is like that moment
that
first
drop
of
water
breaks through the parched earth

-

You are the beauty of the earth
I want to enshroud you
like
slippery moss

-

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

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

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!

in die jagtog klou die rillingvleis verewig aan die sluimerende paradys

in die jagtog klou die rillingvleis

verewig aan

die sluimerende paradys

soek die duiwe skuiling

in

die suising van die stilte

al wat groei

is sampioene uit

die tortelerende monde

uit die wit-blou-lug hoor die soldate

geluide wat proe soos koue vakume

in porselein koppies

die ander naamlose gevleueldes

klink soos kastanjette

hulle staccato interjeksies die lug in

my mond kwyl soos ek die dansende kolle

oor my bewende oogbal sien kwinkeleer

mag geen sweem van berou op my tempels kom lê

die geel serp gaan lê

soos 'n spasma

oor die moerse sug

haar dwalende tieties skyn soos 'n kandelabra in die nag

en die mooi van haar voete

kom lê trojanies tussen sy lakens

die vlieg bots gedurig sy vlerke teen die glas

los netjies sy insek-alarm in die lug

geen melkbottel sal hierdie angs stil

die grommende maag gaan staan wydsbeen voor die oop yskas

hy swenk syntoe in

die sig van die verkluimde goggas

ek voel verplig om al die wêreld se kakpraat

in die wasbak af te spoel en al die materialiteit

in die trap-asblik te donder

die verwaande pen het 'n maniese manier

om groter as die oomblik te wil wees

hoe afskuwelik

alweer-die-hadeda op die grasdak

wat kordaat die swetterjoel bibberende aspoestertjies

aan die slaap wek

ag skiestog, die oë in my kop is maar net

versiering

wat briljant is met die wegsteek van my non compos mentis

swart kol

in

die middel

van my bestaan

is daar 'n ink-kol 'n

groot swart ink-kol wat

 verewig my pen in sy greep

het my pen kan nie loskom soos

dryfsand soos die misterieuse

kragte van die bermuda drie-

hoek suig die swart kol

alles wat die pen ooit

wou skryf in een

vraatsugtige

sluk

op

naby nader en naaste

vir Kim

in die golwe van klanke

en nat lippe

en kerries

en

olywe

smeer ons heuning oor ons monde

en voel ons hoe die warm tee in ons

verliefde ingewandes

dieper

en dieper

afsak

die klanke van liefde resoneer deur ons dansende ledemate

en op jou voorkop ruik ek brons

en vuur en

sonlig

die mis verswelg die dag

en die tou strek ver om die vertes tussen ons nader te bring

want ons wil tog so naby nader en naaste aan mekaar wees

The Cross Roads

The mist comes nightly and drips onto the Cross Roads where 

the Cave-Dweller has laid down his stones.

There is a Wretch who strangely enough comes waltzing by

and with his vinegar lips he wants to teach the Cave-Dweller something of cordiality.

With the next earth rotation the Prehistoric Postal Agent makes his appearance

and at once the Carillon begins to chime.

"I also want to be heard. What ever happened to listening?!"

The Prehistoric Postal Agent says "You are too sober – 

let us drink a toast to more drunkenness!

You will see the firmament more clearly."

Someone knocks on the door (the Cross Roads

now more clearly visible under the clearer firmament).

The Anarchist walks in and takes out his world expo

from his rucksack and in a blitz of words

he tries to convince the Cross Roads to cross at another place.

With shocked eyes the Cross Roads looks up to the clear firmament

and wonders "How the hell am I going to do that?"

I yell "We are not we without the Cross Roads! 
Where will we meet in the future?!"

The Loner suddenly appears, moving to the side of the Cave-Dweller.

He recommends that "You have to start to think heliocentrically" – 

a bit of sun-worship won't do you any harm.

You might become blind but who wants to see anyway if you can feel?"

The Wretch stands up and smears his mouth on his sleeve.

"I am going, I need to go water my futility."

"No come back!" shouts the Cave-Dweller "With the conclusion of the next lunar revolution we will send you an army of occupation so that you can take over the world

and supply everyone with new birthing ground."

The Carillon wonders silently by himself "How am I going to ring in thís era?"

Ryp druiwe

die klavierklanke val

soos

ryp druiwe

uit

die lug

vol trosse kom lê soet-soelig diep binne my oor

draai om en om in

'n hemelse taai mallemeul

in die ingewandes

van

my siel

die rillings breek uit oor my kopvel

en die toppe van my skouers

ek is bang as

die stilte

gaan kom

ah, om verewig in die hand van klank te lê

daar waar dit resonerend warm is

vat my nie weg van hierdie klank!

kom klank,

kom val

soos ryp druiwe

in my oor

bederf my

met

'n oomblikse versadiging

van

hierdie

nimmereindigende

honger

ripe grapes

the piano-sounds fall

like

ripe grapes

from

the sky

full bunches come lie sweet-sultrily deep inside my ear

turn round and round in

a heavenly merry-go-round

in the guts

of

my soul

the thrills break out on the skin of my head

and on the tops of my shoulders

i am scared when

the silence

will descend

ah, to lie forever in the hand of sound

there where it is so resonantly warm

take me not away from this sound!

come sound,

come fall

like ripe grapes

in my ear

spoil me

with

a momentary satiation

of

this

neverending

hunger

{[( dis actually die yskas )]}

die oggend staan so vroeg op

klim in my verbeelding in

en verbaas my met allerhande oortuigings

die grys gedreun so vroeg in die dag

gryp my om die kiewe

en ek wonder vanwaar gaan my stilte kom?

ek sal maar illusie-illusie speel

en kyk of die invloed van my kop sterker is

as die invloed van die irritasie

dit trek styf in my bors

die sien en hoor van die baster-gedagtes

breek deur my skedel

is dit alweer die hadeda wat sy roep

met soveel ongekunstelde gewoonte handhaaf

ek is verbaas ek het nog nooit 'n hees voёl gehoor nie

in die hoek van my oog skuif mense om my rond

almal met hulle oordadige doen en late

god weet wat sal ge-oes word !

ek keer terug na die suis van my kop

en al wat ek kan doen is staar staar staar...

ek voel hoe die spoeg opdam in my linker kies

die gesuis was nie my kop, maar die yskas

as ek spiere van yster had sou ek die yskas

in my ystas pak en piekniek gaan hou in die arktika

dood is die dade wat

eens op 'n tyd oor die horison

aangedonder gekom het

ek sal my aksies en reaksies temper

agter klip gaan skuil as ek moet

- die enigste alternatief

vergewe my my leë kop

moet my asseblief nie bliksem nie

dit vat nie die verwurgende waansin weg nie

ek wil weer voel hoe dit voel om inkantasies die wind in te sing

in die kwiksilwerende organika soek ek versadiging

probeer ek my klei-lyf 'n ware rugstring gee

ek verval in 'n tornado van donker sensasies

gegiet in die vrees vir die woord

diep krap ek in my onderbewuste 
opsoek na 'n onverskrokke feesviering van letter en klank

hoe ryk is die dieptes wat my keel net-net kan voel

en oombliklik weer in die niet verdwyn

ek kreun die nagte om

want waaragtig ek wil nie agterbly

ek wil weer voel hoe dit voel

om inkantasies die wind in te sing

ek wil weer voel hoe dit voel
om met my naakte vlees

die ongenaakbaarheid van die elemente

om my ledemate te voel kolk

ek wil weer die resonerende pols deur my are voel golf

ek weier om te ontrafel

ek het nog te veel vlerk wat wil vlieg –

uitbundig wil die heilspellende spel van die lewe

deur duister vrees en skaamte breek

en met hierdie stem, die enigste stem wat ek het,

wil ek my spoor vol en diep trap

uit hierdie lyf 

wat weet hoe 

oer voel in 

die alleen-grond

kom daar 

'n lus 

gegroei 

wat weier 

om 

tot 

die 

niks 

te 

verteer

i want to feel again how it feels

to sing incantations into the wind

in the mercurial organica i search for  satiation

i try to give my body true spine

i fall in a tornado of dark sensations

moulded in the fear for the word

deep i scratch in my unconscious searching

for the intrepid celebration of letter and sound

how rich are the depths that my throat can nearly feel

and then instantaneously disappear into the void

i groan the nights away

for i don't want to be left behind

i want to feel again how it feels

to sing incantations into the wind

to feel with my naked flesh

the inclemency of the elements

whirl around my limbs

i want to feel again the resonating pulse wave through my veins

i refuse to unravel

i have still too much wing that wants to fly –

the haunting play wants to break boisterously

through dark fear and shame

and with this voice, the only voice that i have,

i want to tread my tracks full and deep

from this body

who knows how primal feels like in

the lonely soil

the desire

comes growing

refusing

to

dissolve

into

the

nothing

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