here's to the many an avid poetic toast
to sweetly urge us on till we reach the coast
let this effervescence  be a portrait of living joy
propelled by the glowing fires of our awakenings

hold your head high poet
for your verses are sublime
do not sigh poet unless you must
but linger when you will in the stillness of a pause

tend your curiosity like a newly-discovered plant
and value it like a rare species from life's archives
let your couplets and your epigrams call the heart to attention
in the cloistered silences of your many pleasant surprises

with each sunset the days are going
and though i've never stopped toiling
this wilderness bewilders me still
till i ask myself what comes after me
what gain there is from a poet eluded by material riches
some leave dream-quality mansions for posterity
others bequeth fabulous wealth to their progeny
and they're remembered for their bounty
but i, the poet in the family,will leave only my words
they will shed tears when my images come alive
they will say how singularly spectacular was my diction
and they will make songs out of my poetic epigrams
but they will not see in their chapped hearts
how other life was always hovering around me
how the words i invoked floated near the edges of my person
and how something huge was always on the tip of my pen

jinga, jinga my sister
it's a true- vex world
jinga my sister
nothing makes sense
jinga my sister
it's a shake-your-head fix
where we're headed
i don't know jinga
oh the aches in my heart
jinga my little sister
what a drag it is
feeling so helpless
watching you get mauled
by the drooling wolves of suburbia
oh jinga i'm hurting inside
but time sometimes does wait
so show them jinga
a daughter saving a nation

the enfeebled voice spoke of hopelessness
the inflamed flesh told of a spirit subdued
shrunken and felled by a creeping weakness
her sightless eyes  were a sign of approaching demise
yet she said she would see me in the morning
and next day under the winking sun i was at her mourning
keeping a promise made a long time ago under a cork tree
to sing about the beauty of a true heart that loved well
and how there was a place and a time for sundown trysts
in the world of articulate shadows beyond the endless blue
and there an enigmatic silhouette she waits in expectant vigil

that feeling again
i'm on top of the world
  and there are no stains
      on my conscience
  i'm the idea that was to come
    the mother of all miracles
    and women's darling boy
       how they all want to cuddle!
that tangy taste in my mouth again
                   life is kicking
and everything has a taste
right now there's spice in my life
                    i'm a jetsetter
             and a party favourite
          my finances are sound
my associates are impeccable
       and i move in powerful circles
i have the pope's private number
and i am a force on wall street
             life is jumping
              not limping
              oh the jolt!
  i wake up and all i see is the mist
       of my dissipated dream
    as it vanishes into thin air
     and i'm groping again
    life, thou art a ***** still!

the lean boy with hungry eyes
kept his eyes glued on my pack
like a beggar hoping for a bowl of rice
and i who had more than i could ever want
            gave him my snack pack
            and watched him eat
just slices of bread with butter and marmalade
and he ate his meal like one fit for a king
                       with respect
                          finesse
                      a­nd ardour
in that fleeting moment i knew for sure
   that a man at table is a king indeed

Massive water body in one-time quarry
colour blue like the sky and edges green with algae
offers untutored swimming episodes with man-bushed boys
I watch them float around like effortless swallows in the sky
hoping against hope that it can be me one day
on my back  at ease like a log or diving deep
Big boy with breaking voice will carry me on his back
I strip and hike around the pool on his sinewy back
Again and again till my fears are lulled and I'm relaxed
These days I smile whenever I hear the monkey tell the buzzard:
Straighten up and fly right, for the boy shook me off
And made for the bank to watch me splash and nearly drown
With hindsight I know I should've told him to straighten up and swim right;  but that's how you learn to swim among the boys