Tag Archives: Poetry
The Dark Side of Dr Devil
The man with one sly eye is slightly broken, but not enough that he cannot lie. He takes my hand in that place where big money is manufactured – out of ‘relationships’ – And we lope into the portal of his perceptions. There we find truth. The real truth. The whole truth. Nothing but the truth. […]
Party
A crowded room
Everyone sits
Comments on clothes
Wine trickles half willingly […]
Thoughts fall like Autumn:
(For JHP) I shake like a leaf holding on to the branch of your tree. The birds sing, and it is not that I cling. I hold. My arms enfold. And it is not that I am you, but that I am with you. And I tremble because this truth is so big and […]
Dread Disease
You asked to know on the first day of long hours spent negotiating freedoms About my disease – the cancer you conjure from your book of fears… and then I was not yet moving to the lullaby of night But yesterday the ‘hateyou.bitch.don’tyougetme?’ metastasized I said (At least, it’s what I meant…) ‘Yes – I […]
Father’s lost finger
He rose from the chloroform bath Perfect, Save for one digit. That was left behind in his mourning coat pocket. There was no grief for his own life, Only for the four he’d adored. Five minus one finger on his left hand, He slipped on the silken gown, Slid his fist into the pocket – […]
marking the passage of time
then || now now now now now now now you || me.
svengali
you made me what I am, i thought who i was, is more important, than who i am, without you.
Kalava in flesh (oldie with Ramon in mind)
fingers clench (starfish bow to sun) and come to rest grid like upon the contours which beg a kiss from the scalpel – or the blunt border of your damning tongue – with sufficient valour i could peel away the façade on this day or any other to weave a fine garland of cherry to […]
Arid
I don’t have IT – that tonic, balm, elixir your gaping maw would drink in long gulps violent starveling kisses – promising depletion
I just want to write
Just want to vent all the smoke accumulated by the smoky kasi streets, The thick jozi breeze Just want to write for the ordinary man on the street Want to write for the man from the open lands herding sheep The woman catching a taxi to work because she wants her kid to eat Don’t […]
periodiccomposition 