Speaking with Sanity
Something in the moonlight foretells of trouble:
an event coming to threaten my stability-bubble;
a happening that would abandon me beneath masses of rubble;
to locate me would be an assignment for the Hubble.
Something in the scent of the air hints at collapse;
this would occur when my Sanity, once again, snaps.
My Sanity is a hotly-contested issue
by the voices within my head (who speak only that which is true).
Then my Sanity debates with them also:
how are the voices informed? He and I want to know.
The rainbow is broken
The rainbow is broken; twisted, jaded, cracked and faded.
A once-loved token; that existed – now degraded. What it lacked had made it
the most beautiful reminder of a glorious reality now left so far behind: There in the dusty recesses of time it’ll wait until someone would see the value lying there, wasted, in the shadows of a mind once fruitful; useful, truthful, youthful.
Inhabitants of Jozi *
We sleep to the humming of the mosquitoes in our ears.
Seemingly, strangers in our own beds;
translating their parasitic theft from our bloodstreams to sensible thoughts in our heads.
To whom it may not concern
Why is the sunshine constantly evading me?
I stand somewhere and I physically see it fade away.
It floats off to another place away from me,
and I shiver in the gloomy darkness day after day.
My heart is home
Africa: my heart is home;
where wide waters flood and flow,
and brave beasts roar and roam;
and the roots of Time itself find place to grow.
I am one person standing alone
beneath the brilliantly shining sun,
adoring Nature’s works of intricately carved stone,
watching the wise ants march, and the silly monkeys run.
Reasons for goodbye
For my father
As time passes by,
apparently there is understanding;
apparently there is growth;
apparently there is a reason why.
A haze builds up in front of my eyes,
clouding all the bits of universal data I ache to analyze.
Experiencing a restlessness of an intensity unusual;
growing, changing, almost exponential.
streaming urgently along the pathways
in the overstretched channels of my consciousness.
the seeming madness flows –
carving new conduits and connections:
Judge from afar
I hear booming voices analyse;
their biting comments criticise
obvious, terrible wrongs,
and many oppressive goings-on;
but none of them find strength to pray
for their enemies, for these oppressors.
They can only find hateful things to say
of these tyrants, their moral lessers.
The beats echo…
resound on the walls of my innermost cave.
The patterned sounds come and go,
come and go,
and set free my hidden-most slave.