I chanced on a familiar sight
a minute  or two
ago.

It struck me as similar
but unfamiliar.

A sight of a flying machine
up above.

Once a sight a minute.  
Now out of place
in the blue sky
above.

Who is coming .
Who is going .
For the world is apart for the first time
in a long time.
Everywhere is over the seas now.
You home is your new neighbourhood
your suburb the new city
We survive with inches
Long gone are days
filled with endless miles.

The flying machine now.
Seems airily familiar.
Similar perhaps
to my ancestors first sight
of those European ships of plunder
as they slithered slowly in
on our peaceful shores.
Abundant with all that is life.

The flying machine
landed somewhere
I didn’t not see.

I have a feeling
one of these days
something more spectacular
way beyond our comprehension.
As dramatic as  
it was for us
when Jan Van Riebeek
first set his sights on us.

I have a feeling that
unlike the flying machine
what will be hovering above us
would be the sort
no living being would have seen before.

The signs are ominous
If I think the rare sight of plane is out of this world
out of this world will be upon us.
Soon than we are ready.

Our future will fly in
In a pirate ship that set sail
from a time totally unknown to us.

Carrot or the stick?
whittled down
life is pretty simple.

suddenly not doing what you had done for decades
not seeing what you used to see
smelling what you used to smell
tasting what it was you used to taste
holding what you used to hold
hearing what it was you used to hear

***** and ***** are
tragedies of Greek
proportion.
Take a man with
potential and then
give him a steady
dose of either (or both)
withdraw it,
and watch him
degenerate.

It’s not the *** act
or
the alcohol its self,
it’s the effect they
produce on
one’s psyche.
We will always
equate that which we
feel emotionally
with absolute
truth.

If one has given
himself completely
(with abandon)
to either pursuit,
when removed,
there will be
a vacuum
a gaping
hole that without an
act from the
gods,
will never be
filled