Masked bandit

I am ruler of all the stands before
And some of what stands behind
I control the future
And travel backwards through time
To fix the wrongs that I need to set right
My fear of flight has me stepping backwards gently
I will not make the same mistakes in my attempt to correct that which I've accomplished and failed at
Who says we can't go back and re-paint memories
I am an artist remaker of this life and the next one
I am layered and embrace each mask willingly

God

I do not fear a god who wields a sword of fire and the threat of eternal flames for my actions in the world of man
I do not fear punishment
I do not fear condemnation
I do not fear
Because god lies in me
In him
In her
In we
I cannot fear that
Can I?

Confusion

I reside on the edge of insanity
I have a fear of normality
It is in the chaos that I find the heart of me
Essence is the intangible that runs through the veins of spirit
cupid can be stupid
Flinging arrows in the wrong direction
I savour the taste of confusion
I suckle it like a hungry child
Sense is an illusion that does not exist
Do not resist, the voices say
And when they speak I listen
Even when asleep
This is my attempt to be deep
Creep, creep, creep

Utopia

We love across continents
Between us lie lakes, lands and distracted seas
The blood we bleed flows freely in water streams
We inhale the same sun
Its tongue licks our collective skin erotically
At times its touch is sordid with no respite from the heat
But it is the same
This land was once one
And as it fractured and separated
So did we
It is not the death of racism or sexism or child abuse or war or genocide
Or .........
Or .........
Or ........
It is not these and more that I seek
It is the birth of humanity we need
The birth of harmony and compassion
It is these we need
Birth not death because it is through birth that we shall create the end of the world we live in
And the birth of utopia

Re-birth

The birth of a butterfly
Is an act of love making
A caterpillar disappears within itself
And breaks out of itself
A thing of beauty
Every time we touch
We renact the birth of a butterfly

Body talk

Once again, technology has obstructed my progress hence the lack of posts. This was to have been posted last week.

My body is my temple
At which I worship my ancestors
As I carry forth our collective soul

My body is a temple
It must be decorated
And so the ink runs skin deep
Lines and shapes that speak of the footsteps I leave

My body is my temple
And the mind tattoos thoughts on my spirit
Reaching beneath the surface of the physical
To speak of my place in a world unchanged

I am another link in the chain of a people
Laying a legacy for those to come
I reach into yesterday and dance into tomorrow
And taste the essence of who I truly am

Electric fence

The electric fence cackles at random intervals
Word of warning for those who ply their trade
When the earth has rotated
And the sun warms other worlds
The comfort of the fence's watchful eyes
Lulls the sleepers into a false sense of security
Believing that the tragedy of poverty lies beyond their walls
They are ostracised from the world for as long as it takes a creative mind to chip away at the edges of their illusion

The electric fence hums in tune to the beats slipping out of the nightclub across the street
Illuminated by the lights creeping through the curtains of the flats across the street
And the lights dotted at 10 metre intervals around the complex of row after row of houses
The cats dance through the gardens
Dodging the dogs barking in rhythm
And the night owls jump at every sound
Knowing that the electric fence is not the last line of defense
And, in the face of determination and hunger, the electric fence will not stand before all who stand at its base

This I know to be true
As true as he who woke me gently from my sleep early one morning
Thinking of christmas shopping and holiday celebration

And there are more where he came from

The comfort of words

Within the bars of time
The walls that box in moments
The stereotypes that blind vision
Foolishness is the guide
And passion is the adrenalin of gods
Who believe in days beyond time

This is the hour of truth
The final dance between moon and sun
And I am the only one here
Only witness to the silence of night
Around me the sleeping bodies lie
In a state of bliss I too must turn to
But not right now

?

the headlines shout tragedy
the beauty of mankind
is only written in the small print
triumph doesn't quite sell papers
the way your blood split on city streets does
i am caught in an endless minefield
and the only reward is death
i live only to prolong that final destination
tonight i sleep with both eyes closed
and give myself to the unpredictably of life
i'm tired of trying

These city lights

They glisten on the horizon
Dance to the sounds of late night revellers
Drinking, carousing, vomiting between destinations
Each one of them signals life
Ordinary people watching tv,
Talking
Laughing
Crying
Sleeping
Their minds silent but for the dreams they see
They rest humming in the distance
And when I look at them
I think of what brought to this place
This cold, loud space built on dreams
Most broken, a few fulfilled
And I wonder what they hold for me

Need is relative

What the world needs
Is bling-bling poetry
A celebration of the material
The trivial
The pursuit of 'mine is bigger, better than yours'

The quest for perfection in word
Truth in language
Beauty in feeling
Is a devotion to wasted time

What we need
Is gangsta poetry
Words that keep it real
And wallow in the quagmire of ghetto living, of guns, and drugs, and self-pity
Repetition upon repetition to ensure that you get it

Truth is for the weak
Progress is for fools

ramblings

my thirst is quenched by the blood of my ancestors
i am descendant of you & you & you
champion of your broken tomorrows
each step i take is a step further than you ever took
but the planet's surface constantly brings me back to where i begun

this is my manifesto
detailed account of what i plan not to achieve
it is all a dream and when i wake up
i shall begin at the end and return to the beginning
i am the only son of jupiter
contra-gender manifestation of venus
she has a .......
and i have a penis

baby, will you be my yoko ono
when i die publish every word i ever wrote
even the grocery list
someone has to get paid off this madness
my insanity is electric
it makes my hair stand
and my throat choke

scattered thoughts are the pillars of this society
mentally i embrace chaos
but expect order and control in my home

mommy i hear voices
they say they represent you
and i must do as they do
not as they say
but i can't see them

i wipe my feet on the moon
before stepping onto the dust of mars
pluto is great for skiing but nothing else
prefer to holiday on mercury
nice, a tad bit warm, but great for sandboarding

am i rambling
my theory is chaotic
in the random there is order
in nonesense there is sense
i feel like the n
marooned in a distant planet
between se and se
cute?

this is the product of an orgy
with decadent angels bored with the stiffness of heaven
did i say 'stiffness'?
juvenile humour has a way of bringing out the child in me

am i the only one who thinks hell is about decadence
and heaven is like living at home with your parents
ALL THE TIME
the sins of the father never visited on this son
babies come from heaven
shouldn't we return there in death
or is it a natural progression to fall down

the words reflect nothing but themselves
i am nothing but a mouthpiece
fingering keyboard because i am bored

mommy i hear voices
please tell them to STOP

She's been loved before

This is from old notes, the muse seems to have forsaken me tonight.

She loves to calm the demons
Seven headed reflection of her inner beauty
Born in the image of medusa's bastard off-spring

As painful as it may seem
Schizophrenia lies within us all
Blanketed by the layers of the normal

And she is us is she

Divine creature of day and night
Makes you see into the porous eye of dreams
Where hope is reality
And all we dream of is flight

Possibility multiplied by infinity is we
Cradled between the lines of her fingerprint

We see only the burden of the love she has loved
Never really seeing the tomorrow of the love she has loved

And she is us is she

Her bright-eyed future is ours
Where the petals of a dying rose
Are the seeds from which tomorrow grows

She may have been loved before
But she will love again as will we
Because she is us is she
She is love

The return

I am the last word
Resting on the edge of mankind's extinction
Awaiting the last breath

Many words have been spoken
Many breaths taken
And now we are at the end

The waters have risen
To reclaim their space
The goddess has been angered
And her wrath runs free
Through the towns and cities
Through farm land and distant fields

She spews lava
While the god reaches down with tentacles of fire
Melting glaciers and drowning polar bears

They come together in embrace
Their love is death

shadow talking

This was written last night but having problems with my blackberry so wasn't able to post.  was watching a documentary on cults.

 

madness begets madness

in the name of god

fantasy fulfiled in visions

of voices that whisper insanity

 

i am the saviour

i am the sun

i am the planets rotating around the sun

i am in a random orbit

and the world is my realm

 

the history of man

is littered with decadence

the source of our sadness

is the sexual anomaly

that plagues our inhumanity

 

we are vain

and the intoxication of power

breeds a cultish dictatorship

the master race of mankind fades blindly

and we, the followers,

walk off the cliff willingly

 

do or die

don't do and die

 

we cannot leave this world

coming back again and agin

we can't dream of greater days

as we fade away

 

in time we shall talk of the human age

our skeletons, treasures to be found

beneath rotting staircases

daggers still protruding from where

our chests used to be

 

submit, submit, oh, sheep

we are all going to die anyway

If

If all there was
Was this moment
I could forever
Lying right here
Her faint breath on my back
Her body lazily curled into mine
Her arm on my side
Nothing before
And nothing after
Just this moment
Forever wouldn't be long enough

Death

He died a sad and slow death
It started with the birth of a dream
Colourful, beautiful, full of vigour
The kind that paints reality with hope
Visions of tomorrow dangling on the end of a very long rope
Beckoning
But that didn't last
The rope swung in the wind
First gently, then violently
Bashing the dream against the wall of time
Until, battered and bruised,
It started to fade
At first it did not seem serious
But in time, its light dimmed
And life became about death of the dream

Lost words

In the corner of my home
Tucked just behind
And to the left of the television
On an old rickety bookshelf
Between poetry and stories of vampires
And dragons and extraordinary lives
And entrepreneurship
Lie my forgotten words tucked between the pages of stained notebooks
On the edge of scrap pieces of papers
And on crumpled serviettes

I have made a life of writing words just for me
and they languish on a corner bookshelf
Calling me to pick them up again

Fruity fraternity

Strawberries & cream
Peaches & syrup
Guns & blood
Laughter & tears
Sweet & salty

Or

Calabash & rain dance
Ancestors & zion
Babylon & oppression
Azania & consciousness

If I write poetry about the destruction of africa
The pain of colonialism
The tragedy of slavery
Does that make me an african poet?

A thought

Rainbow tears
Trace the horizon
With bittersweet colour
Giving and taking life simultaneously