Mother of the children
            I'm here
Yes I'm here, but I'm so tired
I have a knife that's sharp and indiscriminate

W hen he of the itchy fingers is around
keep an eye on your fowls and your goats!

When he warns you about your fowls and goats
He's being evasive; I'm the village stud, ask your wives!

Mother of the children
            I'm here
Yes I'm here but I'm so tired
I have a knife that's sharp and indiscriminate

Sleep, baby sleep, and be silent
I don't need any water; your father is here
He's sweeping my nether  lands with a broom that tickles me
So sleep, baby, sleep, and let your mother be a queen tonight

Mother of the children
            I'm here
Yes I'm here but I'm so tired
I have a knife that's sharp and indiscriminate

i'm the blue sky
with a swallow careering around it
i'm the void
that has room for you no matter what
i'm the blue sky
dotted with fluffy clouds
on some lazy afternoon
i'm the blue sky
waiting for evening to come
and you're the star
that lights me up on dark nights
see how i blossom
and how you tickle the smiles out of me
we emblazon the universe with soulful bliss
and we're for ever riding the wings of time

we hurt most
those we love best
paradox

hopes in threadbare tatters
and exotic dreams shattered
i hobbled home
like a beaten soldier
dying to see one last time
that face that launched my ego trip
i knew now beyond any doubt
that truth was resident in the home
that i forsook all those years ago
and that glamour lived next door
in the warm eyes of that girl
who could blast me into oblivion with a word

you took me on a wondrous  space trip
to the vastness of a foreboding outer universe,
to places i had never thought i could traverse.

i learned that the imagination is as vast as cyberspace
and that all things are possible to a fertile imagination
especially to one looking for  magic and wonderment

so in the depths of our speculating minds
the word was made flesh in a spectacular flash
as your imagination wove a tapestry of things uknown

it mattered not that spoil-sport reality soon set in
or that once more i landed on terra firma with a bump
we had the power to wish into being all our fancies
and the duration was of little importance in our utopia

it is all rather insincere and futile
when you’re old and almost senile
to try doing a few  new things this late
on the premise better late than never
you will learn much to your chagrin
how your remorse and deep regret
fail you and there’s no peace ever
lesson for us all dear fellow wayfarers:
‘isikhumba sigoqwa sisemanzi’
‘tis best you tan a hide in its freshness

By forty you’d be rich and famous
              So you said
By fifty you’d be a revered opinion maker
With princes and the rich queuing for your ideas
              So you said
By sixty you’d be a modern but erudite oracle
Dispensing flakes of stunning wisdom to all
              So you said
By eighty you’d be a rare phenomenon
Physically strong and mentally sharp beyond belief
              So you said
But who’s this tattered old person in rimless glasses
Begging the indulgence of amused passers-by
And selling rusty memories at two for a dollar?

we never really forget the pain
since our hearts carry the stain
etched there by wanton partners
driven by unbridled debauchery
and a wild sense of adventure
so we never really forget the ills
and we never forgive the sins
of our lovers in a thousand years
so let your unseeing eyes weep
and your foolish heart bleed
till the bare truth is wrung out
of the chronicles of your malice
and i have the lovely satisfaction
of seeing you squirm unforgiven
as it dawns on your indolent mind
that you can never make amends

big red sinking sun
hangs low, and the
horizon is a canvas;
that silhouettes
dance eerily on
for night is coming
and the yellow moon
has a cold numb glow
the leaves whisper
a swishing melody
dreading the touch
of a cheerless moon
that paradoxically
makes  the girls swoon
on this nightmarish evening
wolf whistles slice the silence
with a sick aching desire
atop mythical wings
speak softly and hold me close
strange things can happen
on nights such as these

her shredded heart hot with shameless tears
she felt him close the door to her dreams
              and it was night at noon
she watched him go rucksack on shoulder
blending with the sunset like a Hollywood hero
              and time wept with her
her thoughts screamed his name heplessly
but modesty told her she knew better
             and night crept into her soul
a little voice sailing the evening breeze
said a girl must always have something to hold back
             till a bountiful morning came
but she knew he was gone for good without any doubt
and there she was once again bowed like a weeping willow
             and tears welled in her eyes

i am the miracle boy
i spoke the day i was born
and had a full set of teeth
i'm the one that the crocodiles fled
i tell you this but not in jest
i brought down a Boeing 747
with a single shot of my sling
the sun winked an apology for daring to be hot
i did  not fancy wiping a sweaty brow
with that fancy white handkerchief of mine
the symbol of a heart i broke under a moonlit sky
i'm the one whose wardrobe tailors die to fit out
i'm every woman's peculiar heartbreak
and every man's litany of sad tales of loss
i walked through fire and up a wall like an ant
i marched through a hail of bullets but none touched me
when i pass by all the girls rush to have a glimpse of me
this beautiful mother's boy with charm too much to fight
i have gone into bars and made patrons cry to buy me one
my list of spectacular feats  is endless and longer than eternity ....

she was once a true love of mine
but i left her to work in an old mine
where i sang my darling clementine
like a demented and forgetful libertine
but life always pays you back in kind
when i came back with those trinkets
she was gone and i was  alone in my old age
love had not waited for this poor thing in wrinkles
chasing time on dimming eyes and dulled memory
too many years too late for the girl who had tried to wait

'times i think i have it finally
only to discover not actually
it's so slippery and intangible
it feels light as a feather
and ethereal as smoke rising:
a thing so painful to glimpse
'cause it's always in flight
a reality too much like a dream
and a love so sweet and fluffy
i must have imagined it
life itself leaves you wondering
how you ever got so suffering
time lulls you and you sleep and snore
till you think you're here to stay
but your tiny moment is a fleeting one
the accountant is always within earshot

i'm on a mad rush
to see each one gush
that lovely smile
not one but many
in each new mile
lest i procrastinate
and find one sad day
that people have forgotten
how to smile and be happy
that they have become too civilized
let me capture the sun in their eyes
and savour the deep spontaneous laughs
by people with authentic feelings
quite unlike the plastic brigade
nurtured on too much television

the tree tops are mourning
        no more monkeys
the breeze whispers a dirge
       no more monkeys
simpson street has gone concrete
and the trees are silently dying
        no more air-borne swings and leaps
they've dug up the hill and modernized it
pretentious mansions spell monkey doom
we weep to see the primates gone!

I want to lick that bit of blue sky
with my eyes; touch it with my pen
before the fumes, the smog, and the development eat it up. I want to drink
its loveliness before the mood fades  and a sick yellow hue pervades the world. I want to be flattened by
its serene loveliness going on and on
into the vistas of unfarthomable time.

You’re coy and detached
Like the proud moon
Bathed in silvery light

You’re so distant
Like the timid stars
Twinkling across the void

I am hot and boisterous
Like that old sun above
Melting your reticence away

Woo me as you do the sea
Stir up upheavals in the seasons
Of my renewed yearnings

With you life is a fantasy
Resplendent in stellar light
As the ancient dance  intensifies

walk me to the end of my dream
and to the start of my nightmare
lull me to sleep till the break of day
and rouse me into pained wakefulness
show me my sweet hopes in terrible flight
and detach yourself from the woes of my day
as love dissipates into a hallucination
and what was most unlikely takes shape
before my enraptured and unblinking eyes
I dare hope that it is all one huge concoction
but there's no tragedy in being wrong

life, said the vagabond,
is a busy highway
and we all walk it
bound for nowhere
when you see me again
i shall have been nowhere
though i'll have been away

you dazzled me with your antics
then mesmerized me with your acraobatics
till i crumbled before an expert onslaught
led from the front  by the mood swings
embedded in your hurtful shifting values

You step out of the shower
       With the sun up on high
and a rainbow rising from your *****
there’s a dream on your cherubic lips
        i smell its fragrance
          taste its flavour
feel its aura awash over me
    and kiss the sweetness
     of your elegant promise
     till the end of a moment
   and the birth of new longings

insinuate me
into your waking moments
like a pervasive mist
unveil my presence
like a long-kept secret
and hold me desperately
like i matter
nibble my ear lobe
and whisper to me
things no one else will
drift away with me
till dawn
and walk us through the avenues
of your mellow dreams
till all i can do
is pace the mad floor
like van gogh in relapse
or splash paint
like a surrealist brat
carry me on your person
like a gem
and elevate my image
like a crucifix
be thou my muse
when i create pieces of rare genius
for posterity to marvel at
above all
savour me
like i was made of honey
and follow this template of love
like your sanity depended on it

one last tearful tryst
    saturday
poor little fool*
------------------------
Short Senryu

her frown darkens the still night
and thickens the billowy clouds
till at last the skies glisten bright
with the tears of the mercurial gods
that live in our suffering memories
fall rain fall, then flow water flow
when you go i shall gaze as you sink
in a mock run of my sinking one day

The baby yells
and she tells
       him
about the sweets
    awaiting
        him
in the shadows ahead
sweets are mysteries
        she coos
and babies are so cuddly
like warm-blooded teddies
        giggle baby giggle
        drool baby drool
        dribble baby dribble
            kick baby kick
till the sun winks a smile
and the moon shines a lullaby

there are certain lessons
that life always guarantees
so, no matter how long it takes
we always come full cycle in the end
living with and loving a ******
is foolhardy and always misfires -
girl he will prize you away from decency
and love your money like a mad schemer
till the dead man weeps in his grave
weeps the tears of a sightless cadaver
whose one -time true love has gone bad
whose children are strangers and captives
in a home their father bequethed
now this smooth operator, sideburns, cigars and all
reclines in the dead man's armchair
and sips the dead man's vintage whiskey
in a vile act of virulent disrespect
and the voluptuous widow
worships the ground he walks on
she rolls around the house to please him
as her dead husband's children join the orchestra
of too many children weeping

the museums
the art galleries
all had he visited
     van gough
     rembrandt
     dali
    picasso
knew he all
and their works
   paintings
   drawings
  sculptures
 and etchings
surrealist and  cubist
and he dazzled his audiences
with his vast store of fact and opinion
        till the sorry drunk
        troubled his thoughts
       with accounts of john next door
the man who visited
      when our man was on  his rounds
      giving erudite talks
and bargaining with dealers in antiques

these joys are sacred and precious
you partake of them if you're serious
but you best flee if you're just curious
these joys are cosmic and rarefied
they shower you with the sweet abundance
of seasons of plenty when harvests are a surfeit
when you can withdraw into secret places
and there gorge yourself on shapely pleasures
and dissipate in tender exertions on an unmade bed

In that moment for mementos
When everything will stand still
We shall remember sentimental tokens
Of promises made in the heat of an embrace
And feel that we let slip drafts of elevated joy

look me in the eye
and make me high
with a passionate sigh
that's like a sublime musical note
and I shall for ever be your vote
in the annals of lovers' exploits

Does it all lead to just this,
a gaping hole in the ground,
sniffing but impatient mourners
their predictable tissues at the ready?

an all-too-practised priest in familiar garb
does the expected; his suitably tremulous voice
has the standard formality as he goes through the ritual
and those years of convolution spiced with some straight and narrow

do they culminate in this terrible charade?
Surely this can't be it, this cavalier show by fellow-travellers,
by small cliques here and there, sharing juicy titbits of gossip
- least concerned with the slowly sinking forgotten casket

in my heart of hearts i say this can't be it, surely!

well hello hello big man
you're looking quite suave i must say
your almost palpable gloss is off the fat of the land
i suppose you could say you're the leader of the band
but you choose not to; you're far too smart for obvious moves
understandably, it's been goodbye to all that stuff from years ago
they suffer densely and in perpetuity who wait for providence
is your guiding principle; so the quicker, the greedier, the better!

sometimes i sink
to depths of despair
that leave me gasping
for air in claustrophobic spaces
       then i hear a voice calling me
       to rejoin the chorus of life
sometimes i think it's the end
and that i'm finally spiked and dried
no more clinging flesh or sightless eyeballs
just a mounful song swishing through my skeleton
       then i hear a voice urging me on
       telling me to rise up and soar
       into the blue heavens
       where anachronistic melodies play
       on rusty harmonicas trapped in gravity
then sometimes i think i'm dreaming
when life bubbles and is exuberant
in my heart that's full of melodious chants

you're the  tempting thing my father forbade
the very same that Mother bade me forsake
but when did i ever listen to anyone's entreaty?

you're that thing with the sweet ephemeral scent
that wafts into my brain and dares me to ignore it
but when did i ever turn away from your honey?

you're that indefinable thing floating in my heart
teasing my consciousness with things rare and infectious
when did i ever fail to to take the bait when you dangled it?

now dear sweet never-forsaken snare lying in wait
in that always not so apparent apparition of hope
my taunting self-afflicted mirage of hallucinatory bliss

i wallow deep in life's forgotten shapes and desires
that are forever mocking me in a dance of painful fancies
and we get back to where it all started: irresistible you!

like sugar and spice in separate jars
opposite but complementary, neatly-packed
and labelled on Mother's clean shelves
sweet and cloying like sunsweet sugar
tangy and exotic like the spices of yore
that launched hapless ships into stormy waters
that's what this thing called life is like
often  a dream to live and revel in, but also
a nightmare of garish detail in relief
fouled by the ghoulish glee of decadence
and the things that we do to pander to our tastes!

this is the last mile of the long way
       i'm homeward bound
my bubbly resolve now holds sway
      i'm on the home stretch
this is where my dream comes true
       i'm firm and positive
this time around i took the right turn
      and i must surely get the prize
this is where we smile and are happy
     i'm one of the chosen few
this time the glow is huge and luminous
and my struggle leads to the next struggle
     this time my reward is certain
she waits for me with a glass of cold water
lodged deep inside the pupils of her eyes
     and i know i dreamed it all up again

imagine a famished beggar at your house,
open your doors and feed him till he's sated

imagine a vagabond on his endless wanderings,
run a warm bath for him where he can soak till dawn

imagine a country lass with smelly undergarments,
give her all the trappings and see her hidden beauty sparkle

imagine the hungry poor hoping against hope for crumbs,
take them to a five-star hotel and make them kings for a day

imagine everyone saying yes to everything worth a yes
and saying no to all things that demean and diminish us,

create a book of convergence where we sign away sorrow and pain,
and let humans with sinewy lust lay their blues to perpetual rest

from the depths of every nook and cranny
chiselled from the hard experiences of life
i heard a silky deceitful voice say
all things are possible and attainable
so i  stood upon the pinnacle of hope
ready to take off into my wildest of dreams
but alas that voice was my own voice;
it sounded just a little too tremulous

she longed to hold a child
in mellow arms and be wild
and free as a francolin at dusk
but alas, time waits for no one
now she wails in my heart
in memory of that humid day
when she planted her pain in me
and watered it with her tears
in the recesses of a day fled
in my palms i now hold shrunken hope
the price of a dream that was too vivid
to see the light of day in the haze in a maze

his eyes were dead dull
but his intellect was sharp

his demeanor was mild and dignified
made her more triumphant and less terrified

he did not see her screaming imperfections
but seemed to know all her silent actions

love for him  was a blind leap into the future
confident of a soft landing on green turf

So she learned to see things with her heart
and surprised herself with the riches there

every time she went gently by
i felt like saying a mellow bye
to friend and foe alike, and to family too
for in all honesty that whistle had me dangling
like fruit about to fall from the mother twig
i heard the enigmatic whistle of the kite
a thin eerie sound that spelt doom to stray chicks
i heard the drone of the horrid ground horn-bill in my heart
and shook in my boots; the birds in my life were portentous
You see, there was never a bird in sight at all
yet the songs were shrill and so distinct they made me fall
the day she came by and i heard the call of a laughing dove
was the day that fire rained in torrents from above
and she was gone for good with all her numinous secrets

i looked in just as you were looking out
and the thick smoke stung our eyes;
the tears went down our hands into the palms
and when we touched there was a fluid bond
that said we had drowned our sorrows in the tears
and would forever be washed clean in the rains we make

change is a constant
motion in life's instant
organic factory of growth
thus the folds at the back of my head
are a recent intrusion against my image
so are the hairs in my ears
and in my now dilated nostrils
you used to have these lovable dimples
and a delectable bounce in your walk
but now all you ever do is talk and talk
about the fictional excellence of your life
and how you're much sought after
even in this, the twilight of your days
            head bald as an egg
            walk a dawdle
           mouth a dark cavern
           physique like a sumo wrestler
           memory like a closed book
          and demise like a meteor
will i know you when i see you again?
my heart has kept you frozen and young

the moon tonight my darling
riding the fluffy clouds of night
its aura a lovely ethereal blue
is like the skirt riding your thighs
and i'm thinking, oh that blessed moon!

tomorrow to fresh quests true
and old friendships in new hue
did we not walk this road before
and weren't you my companion?

tomorrow on these paved highways
and in dreams where perfection is no myth
we shall indeed awaken once vibrant dreams
from a slumber that almost slew them

tomorrow, old conquests 'neath hissing trees
shall become fresh and new in perpetuity
and we shall see that our fears were imagined
and life itself has clones in excess everywhere

so go softly friend and sometimes look back
there will be many washed in loving tears
and others perusing the sweat of your mind
in a world that needs urgent re-arrangement

The water was quiet and unruffled:
Though intemperate winds blew on it
Ne’er once did it ever really stir
And we got so used to its pervasive presence

In line with global trends everywhere
We took notice only when loud waters bubbled
       Like wayward children we scoffed
       When delectable words of wisdom
Wafted like therapeutic mist out of Wisdom Well

But now that the well is empty and dry
Our deprivation begins in earnest
And soon, very soon, nostalgia will whip us
One and all till we learn the bitter lesson:

That second chances belong to storybooks only;
Now that this veritable repository of true wisdom
Is in other dimensions our dilemma cries out
Who amongst us shall quench our thirst
Now that the water in the well has dried

young life is  quite distinct
exudes the beauty of innocence
and has curiosity without bounds
calves run about, seized by the paroxysm
of joyful life oozing through milky teats
and lambs and kids not to be outdone
go on crazy adventures on the pastures
Lo and behold, even baby lizards are
projectiles of life bursting from within
life was meant for them and you
brother, the world is waiting out there
what does it matter if after a long journey
you discover you never left the world?

his lean body promises something flawless
and his athletic gait and poise gurantee it
this dance carries the joyful pulse of centuries
filled with the aura of a communal choreography
driven by a pulsating talking drum in expert hands
the serene contours on his contented face -
how they belie the ostritch feathers ardoning his shaven head
such artistic grace and coordination are truly phenomenal:
his dancing head shakes in rhythm to the urgent vocals
of the melody section of the dance troupe
he blows a whistle to blend perfectly with the rest of the percussion
his right hand plays a pair of shakers with amazing dexterity
even as he directs affairs with a fly whisk in his left hand
his left leg does some fancy footwork in the dust
while the right one beats time in time to a silent dirge
the beat of the drum is insistent and demands obedience
to the dictates of heritage that require fluidity and excellence
the dancer is happy to oblige with a maestro's rendition
his smile and energy from the ages speak of art almost divine
who is it that speaks of multitasking as a tiresome diversion?
in this dance where one man does six different things at once
multitasking is an indomitable brand as well as art incarnate!

You always say
that I always may
declare creation
in those speech-act moments
when words become action
Thus see me breathe life
into hitherto stiff fancies
See me empowered by verbal magic
that conjures up fanciful shapes
in the image of my inclinations
So I say let there be beauty and wonder
a swallow swishing crazily past
and a lonely dove cooing for its mate
Let there be rustics exuding the rich smells of life
from newly-turned earth with neat furrows and fat worms
wood smoke and freshly-cut grass in musty he-goat odour
Variety is the spice of life the sages from long ago said
So let there be good-time girls and pompous pimps too
and petty thieves and flashy conmen in loud clothes
Let the world sizzle with a menu of a la carte activities -
sooty greasy grime and lurid crime to shock good people
In simple terms let the world be a poem teeming with life
and let its people know their roles in the scheme of things
Let them play their parts to perfection
while I try out a miscellany of diction and imagery
to capture and portray the wonder of another complex day