The Aftermath of Injustice

In Memory of Neil Aggett
1953 - 1982

You crossed the border to offer your expertise
To render a service to a people without a voice
A people in hell
To a nation stripped naked by gross injustice
Like a tree with no leaves
Stripped bare in autumn
Left with no shade from the scorching sun
The fruits had all been stolen by wicked men
Devoured by the debauched in khaki attire
Swollen and puffed with pride like pastry in an oven
They took you captive like Jesus once was
Punished for doing good
Until your heart cried out with an inner voice
Why the whips and chains
Wet and cold electrified feet
You knew then ... You wouldn't get out alive
Your passing cruelly induced
To end your life ... Your only relief
Like a whisper in a crowd
Who would hear your cry
Of course the papers had to say
He did it himself ... He did it his way
Oh how I wish I was invisible
There in your cell of hell
To name and shame the faces
Who unjustly got saved by the bell

Written by Sean Achilleos 25 January 2019©

Additional:
In this life it may seem that there are people who get away with almost anything and everything.
And perhaps they do.
However, only in this lifetime.
But sadly not in the life thereafter.
Like an alarm bell that breaks the deathly silence early in the morning.
It's not what you want to hear, but a necessary truth.

The Owls are Watching

In memory of Helen Martins
'The Owl House'
Nieu Bethesda, South Africa

In sculpture and rock rested your art
Cement faces that speak volumes
Of emotions and tales untold
As mysterious as your life itself
Glittering walls of crushed glass
That shone by candlelight
Outside of art you were branded
Though remembered as unique and ahead of your time
With big glass eyes the owls watch the world
What was once your sanctuary
Now a showcase to the world
Recognized at last
Unspeakable loneliness of a soul misunderstood
Now your handwritten letters are framed and displayed for all to read
But you don't mind the curiosity of mankind
With cement hands raised to the heavens facing the east
You drank your chosen cup
Your Mecca now complete

Written by Sean Achilleos
28 March 2016©

How this poem came about:

I was a visitor to the Owl House Nieu-Bethesda South Africa in 2015. Approximately, one year later I was inspired to write a poem about the late great Helen Martins. I was intrigued by the eccentricity of this woman.

One evening while in my living room and enjoying a glass of wine, my eye caught the cement owl in my windowsill which I had purchased outside the Owl House from a vendor. I saw its big blue glass eyes glaring at me. At the time I was listening to a Jennifer Ferguson record, and decided to write while the music was playing. Once I had completed the poem I felt exhausted. Then a very strange phenomena occurred, the lights went off for a few seconds and came back on, unlike a power surge. It reoccurred a second time that same evening, and never since. It felt like a supernatural intervention. As far fetched as it may sound, it seemed like Mrs. Martins had personally given her approval of the poem. I then decided to email it to the official Owl House website. I didn't think much would come of it. However, they embraced the poem and were generous enough to display it on their official Website for a number of years under a section titled "A Visitor's Perspective".

https://g.co/kgs/BPyx1U

Speck of Dust

Sometimes the most valuable things in life are hidden in plain sight
And now that you are gone
We are left with only a void
There seems to be some kind of hollowness
While the days are long and deeply quiet
There's a tangible silence in the air
And nobody knows quite what to say
Words can not make it right
Words won't bring you back
Even tears seem futile
A picture frozen in time
Displayed in a time capsule
You are virtual now
And will never grow old
Your smile will never fade
The smile you so often used to hide the pain ... pain unseen
Your mask became heavier to bear
Like a goldfish in a small bowl
Swimming round and round
Life pushed you down just as you were coming up for air
But we will live by your request
To remember the good times ... for you

R.I.P
Lance Christopher Weyer
23 April 1987 - 26 November 2021


- sean achilleos -

can you see me
do you recognise me
did you acknowledge me in the womb
or did you pay me no heed
a lovechild i was born
it was not i who rejected you
but you who rejected me
why should i carry your burden
your guilt
joined by an umbilical cord
your pain became my hurt
your anxiety became my fear
your rejection my way of life
my demon to fight
a void of baby photos
sparked an avalanche of photos in adult life
always posing in search of finding my face in a crowd
a mother harbouring a secret
an absent father
see me
see me
see me please
cries a silent voice inside
i seek your approval
day in night out
a closer look in the mirror
reveals a story untold
though a thousand people around me
i am always alone

written by sean achilleos 09 september 2018©

This is not just a tangible cold
But a chill in the heart
To say goodbye and love from afar
For the very one you held so dear
Became the root cause of many a fear
One never knows you're in the eye of the storm
Until you escape and look back
From the other side of the mirror
Things have now become clear
Uproot and cast away
The naysayers who sowed pitfalls in your way
Yet bid such not a bitter farewell
For hiding underneath that glossy shell
Unveiled a serpent you thought you knew so well

Sean Achilleos
April 4th, 2020

Sometimes the one closest to you is your biggest enemy...

Cracked
I thought you were perfect
Thought you were the final ingredient to making my life complete ... perfect!
Only to find that you were cracked
Yes, flawed!
At first I wanted to cast you away
Then came a rude awakening
I discovered something about myself
I found that I was cracked too
That the perfection I was seeking was driven by the imperfection in me  
I was seeking my own wholeness in you
Yet I am flawed
Yet I am cracked
Perfection now holds a different meaning
The right imperfection makes perfect
And we all need some of that imperfect perfectness

S. Achilleos
June 20th, 2020