I’m not the type
that thrives on hype
and I’m not lewd or lurid
like life gone grossly putrid
I’m a man that sees through the heart
and does not go through life playing the part
of a roaming spirit let loose among the lambs
My role is to let life roll like a well-made plan
but never to seek the glitz or glamour
that comes alive only in glossy magazines
and among the mesmerized many
True life like love goes on while you fuss
about whether your neighbour has noticed

in and out of my waking moments
drifts this flirtatious apparition
the ghost of a smile on a broken face
i feel the sanctity of my shores breached
by this stranger on my bewildered shore
the sometimes leering face is like a cloud
hovering above me only in a thick crowd
this stranger on my mystified sandy shore
forever tempting my imagination with glee

'T'was a real feisty morning
and the cold wind lashed my heart
From a distance  I saw a colourful dress
flapping in the wind like a lyrical flag
And my poor heart spun like a crazy top

The basket sat firmly atop her country head
and the chiffon she wore matched the blue of the sky
The smile in her eyes gave truth to the age-old adage
about the heart being like the seed of a wild tree
that grows and flourishes where it will, come what may

She went down on her knees, supple and graceful
and spread her tie and dye wraparound on the ground
Then her heart called out to me in a profound lyric
even as she offered me her hand whose musical bangles
wove into the chorus of sounds from the cicadas and doves

My heart sang an acceptance speech in her honour
She of the hip-long locks of jet-black hair and hypnotic eyes
Enthralled, I wanted to drink from her candid eyes
Happily, she smashed the doubts I had had in days gone by
For I was the lucky man for whom all this was enacted

With a smile like the radiant rays of the rising sun
and a face from which a rainbow could rise
she gave me what she had walked miles to deliver:
a home-made round loaf from purest wheat off her field
She bade me eat and I did eat of this gift from the heart

wearing his thick jacket and weary gumboots
                 the heat notwithstanding
the man is forever abroad on his strange mission
    his hat is the contraption that covers it all
as he feigns distraction and people call him mad
to live a life that has no surprises, only a pattern
how can they possibly know what he's brewing
or what he intends one blessed day to be stewing
in the big *** of dreams that he tends each day
those who want to know must,like him, be mad
only then will they see what really is in the sea
and how atlantis was a figment of souls hungry
for those unusual things from off the beaten path

if i could
i would go to the ends of the earth
to see this rare moment
that we can't ever replicate
blaze into infinity
if i could
i would stand under your sunshine smile
on sorry days
when simple things can gladden the heart
and on dreary days
when rain pours down like sorrow
and the sodden ground weeps a river
as hearts are torn into shreds of regret
at the confluence of  life fled and love forsaken
if i could
i would trap whispered wisdom and treasured secrets
to trade for a song on the common market of bitter sighs
where the things we imagine in our wildest moments
are the price we pay for lost times and opportunities
as the broken dreams of many litter the way
to the perches of watch towers  that are forever courting the sky

Sultry like a winter morning, but delectable, nevertheless
She looked at him with an adjudicator’s eye for the indefinable
And down into the doldrums sank his loud bravado like a stone
He became a blubbering idiot, breathless at her royal presence
Whimpering like a blind, hungry puppy in its dark world

Bereft of height but redeemed somewhat by a rather rare face
She looked at him as if to say he was the answer to all her prayers
The boy’s disdain for seekers of things personal shot through the roof
He became a despicably insensitive dreamer living only for music
Red-carded by her heart on a sleeve he sent her home early to moan

Her clear complexion with the juicy tone was like ripe yellow peaches
She walked out of a shower into the sunshine like a subject of art
When her eyes touched his doting face he was lost forever in her gaze
On this day his obsession with allure was well and truly fanned; he
Became a devotee at the altar of romantic slaughter where dreams die

Dark, with dancing eyes and a full bobbing *****, girlish but feminine
She ate him up with a hungry look and threatened to swoon as her knees buckled
His infatuation with girls that treated him like the killer of their dreams began here
Sorely tempted was he to become her instant lover under that sunny September sky
But alas, it could never be; she was just a maid and he was on the way up

Tall and sweet with articulate eyes and a younger sister that spoke for her
She was not one to play hard to get and declared her love like a blessing
She made his ego grow in leaps and bounds and had a figure like an artist's model
He was stunned by her openness and began to feel like someone arrived at his station
But circumstances, as always, altered cases and they went their separate ways for good

Succulent like the clementine, her namesake, she spread her feelings out for him to see
She had a bigger sister who treated him like he was what her younger sister needed
Clementine and he shared yearning secrets about brief looks and shy touches
Henceforth his love for intrigue in matters of the heart drove him full throttle
And he grew into this heartless beau in love with love, cursed with a wandering heart

Today he sits in a tired armchair under a weeping willow wondering what happened

smog
has assailed tropical havens
nostalgic weeping

i want you to know dear reader
that i've given up playing the saint
and it's time for a few home truths
i'm  shooting straight from the heart
and though toxic nothing will stop me
bleeding an ocean till i'm done for sure
this time my dripping words will go thud
into that shameless unfeeling love infidel
and i shall know peace of a kind at last
aaah, the beauty and the catharsis!

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!

outside the makeshift camp
in uncommonly high spirits
sat an ageless greasy *****
with a song for the drunken
said the enigmatic *****
'can i get one if i want one?'
'you can get two if you want to'
the ***** with the huge eyes
waxed lyrical and melancholic
and, shaggy heads together
in wry musing and pondering
they asked what it was, really, that
floored them so very permanently

I drink to you perfect stranger
You who ignored the danger
I drink to you son of another
You who took time to bother
About hapless misfits like me
Clueless sods that still believed
In the fictional good of humanity
In your moment of supreme grace
You freed me from my scepticism
So we became joined at the heart
And sealed our fates in perpetuity
For to have a mission is to perish
And be interred in some parish
A sentimental plaque the epitaph
To the vanquished dead and gone
By the ungrateful living here now

i've been to places deeper than the deepest sea
much higher and bluer than the bluest open sky
and perceived deeper than the profoundest seer
that all things lead to a destination somewhere
thus my mind saw and true thus my heart spoke

nothing is new in this old world
though everything is indeed new

we experience what others have
but never get a sense of deja vu

we are new to everything as it is to us

'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

look no more at the dying sun
search no further in that distance
and hope no more for magic moments

cry no more for lost opportunities
wish no more for dead assurance
that your time shall indeed come

hallelujah we march to our resolution
mindful of fun and failure at life’s rendezvous
our hearts pierced by the ***** arrows of dearth

when days of plenty abound and scarcity flourishes
we see and ****** that which our hearts yearn for
and become finders keepers as in the days of yore

She called me again today
from the top of a queen-sized bed
drenched in scents and sweat
and draped in satin and velvet

She called me again today
from the tears of a thick cloud
slowly dripping into a hole
on the broken earth below

She called me again today
from a bubbling ancient spring
into which a mad woman high on glee
had poured gallons of stale ale

She called me again today
from the torn page
of a creased exercise book
old, forsaken and mute

She called me again today
from where she waylaid me
and sap from a weeping trunk
went thud against tomorrow's hay

She called me again today
from an angry hissing tap
whose force and might
spoke of trapped time

She called me again today
softly from the pride of her casket
and I knew futility then
We live and love in one direction only

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

there are no moments of distraction
when love wanes like sickly flowers in a vase
       pining is an alien preoccupation
when love has lapped your shores and ebbed
    you sleep dead like a drunken old *****
snoring the nightmares away on a bed of stone
sighs, whispers and sweet-nothings are mirages
when love won't stay for coconut juice and pulp
you don't conjure up sublime verse anymore
  after reticent love has fled your sandy shores
you don't dream up fantastic schemes anymore
    when love proves to have been a bad idea
and you were always going to be the one hurt

His gold-capped teeth
Lost their glitz and glamour
When the peasant boy smiled
A sun-filled smile whitened by his warmth
I knew then that real value is easy and natural

cares and snares are all the same
and many thought it was a game
too late they found it was for good
and their lazy thought was their food

she cared so little
and he cared so much
he loved her to distraction
though she wouldn't have cared less
were he to drown in a mirage

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?

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

how so very sore
the irksome loss
of life and shine
of aesthetic personality:
the configuration
of your widely acclaimed assets!
lost too
what you had in mind:
a cruise on the lake
luxury on a house boat
with tiger fish jumping
crocodiles dozing on the sandy banks
and sleepy hippos yawning
alas!
the things you had in mind,
lost now, but not ever forgotten
you had such fertile dreams; a flight to Shangri-la
to live, love and frolic in the foliage
where thirsts are quenched, and
longings are satisfied; these are the things
you had in mind
so sad the converse reality of providence:
sweet dreams really should come true sooner!

aaah, the pain of the absence
and the futility of the longing
how these two start to linger
and grow bitterer and longer
as relentless time trudges on
to the inevitable conclusion
that everything is a shadow
slippery and elusive to the end
these things were never meant to be
except just as impressions
of sweet possibilities
and shaky memories
of things we think we did

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

Something fine and lyrical
A gem of aesthetic purity
Shining with resilience
That's what you are

Something defined and refined
A phenomenon in your own right
Impossible to ignore ever
That's what you are

A work of artistry and mystery
Abundant everywhere yet so rare
Forever an enigma and an obsession
That's what you are

Poetry in fluid motion, graceful and pleasing
Rhyme and rhythm in perpetual commerce
Sound and movement perfectly matched
That's what you are: a poetic angel

listen and listen well to this story
that to every lover gives glory
'tis everyone's rare narrative
a tacit reminder to everyone
that everything happens to everyone

she was once a true love of his
and gave him reason enough to kiss
for when their searching eyes locked
a sizzling  ripple lashed them both
in a moment of seizure that immobilized them

his eyes  could see only her in her rich allure
he was impaled and enslaved by her lyrical walk
and could only gape and drool while she slew him
with that body, that walk and the utter sweetness
it promised without reservation or coyness

but as life often will have it, the song that her life was
faded into the cold distance and as she ascended into time
his sore heart wailed and he sought her everywhere in vain
till it dawned on him that she had been lovely and elusive to the end
his sacred duty was to fan the memory of one once a true love of his

this story my people, is enacted every day everywhere at all times
and though there's nothing new under the blue skies above
        the pain of acute loss is never a collective experience

you have always been there for me
smiling your warm wonderful smiles
seeing the good in me  when i couldn't
for that and more, my friends, i thank you

your deep belief in me was legendary
and if truth be told, it was amazing
you hung onto my every single word
for that and more, my friends, i thank you

my dreams were always your dreams too
and you were never ever in any doubt
that one day the artist in me would shine
for that and more, my friends, i thank you

these many years later with many of us gone
some of you think i can, even now, still make it
your faith in me is really and truly amazing
for that and more, my friends, i thank you

day in and day out i cry before life and fortune
i beseech those who dispense these things
to please just give me a break before it's too late
but for everything, my friends, i thank you

i'm writing this one big book for us all
a book to justify all the waiting and all the faith
a book to make other books pale into oblivion
and for keeping the dream alive, my friends, i thank you

when she starts that yawning
you know you should be going
                  the writing is on the wall
and you can forget about getting another call

when he keeps looking at his wrist watch
you know there'll never be a cuddly touch
                  the signs are there looming large
and dead is your dream about floating on a barge

when the wild party is finally done and over
and the lights start blinking you find you've lost your lover
                                            it's plain to all and sundry
there's no capital in being solitary and sultry

since none of that can change the law of diminishing returns
though some along life's highways may wish for extensions
                                   but passing time means general depletion
and when your back and your eyes start failing it's check-out time

when he spoke
his voice was the sound of tomorrow
and his words were sweet and enigmatic
taking you to the fields and the forests
to the sound of the go-away bird
and the apocalyptic ground horn-bill
when he spoke
he was not  so small a boy
his was alive with things no one understood
and made you feel it would all go well
even as the storms gathered and there was a swell
of fervour, mysticism and gallant conviction
that sent the sons of mothers to their many deaths
his name was freedom
liberty today and tomorrow the moon!
the cry rang out everywhere with electric effect
and there was no need for the double-speak of diplomacy
or the hollow-sounding epithets of hair-splitting academics
freedom spoke for himself

glassy tears accentuate a wan smile
limp hand mirrors diminished vitality
as young flesh begins to shrink
consumed by the growling dogs of war

a comrade at arms does his best to stay calm
she looks at him as her bowels slide to the ground
from a stomach ripped open by cluster bombs
and asks him: will i be able to make it comrade
is this not the last sunset that i see with these eyes of mine

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

infatuation
ravages my gullible heart
as i am entrapped by the words
of a mouth full of artifice

Roll your mesmerizing eyes
Like you’re some out-of-this-world creature
Waiting to be in that lovely magazine feature

Roll your eloquent tongue
Like the pizza is heavenly cuisine
For the high table at the messianic banquet

Roll your rich undulating body down the street
Like you’re a cask of articulate wine with body and bouquet
And step out like one that’s caused some beauteous dismay

With the exquisite allure
Exuded by your bubbling personality bathed in mystic aura
That’s forever in evidence in your metaphorical salt licks

Where those who want emotional nourishment and equilibrium
Seek to be satiated without risk of odious opprobrium
From the curse of attention from despicable grovellers

Then roll and rock to the beat of a classic song of intimacy
Like the theme and melody were created just for you; and to
Break the hearts of the faint-hearted many lying along your way

To the peak of hypnotic arrest in the folds of time
Where those whose lazy silence slew them are forgotten
Like they are the discarded wretches of obsolescence

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 ....

it's never really that important
what you amass while you live
unless it's love and goodwill
enough to give you a ***** thrill
brought on by your urge to give
therein lies the mystic mix and fix
for to give freely is to get blessed
and see your muddles melt away

i'm the drone of a distant engine
   you hear it but never go to it
i'm the  rush of blood to your head
  you feel it but do not crumble
i'm the swishing wind in your garden
  i tell you about fads and phases
        but you pay me no heed
i'm the distracted man passing by
you want to know my destination
           but you never ask
lest that adage about curiosity and the cat
       should turn out to be true
i'm the love you know you're losing
      but sorrow and rejection
           were also made
                  for you
                  as for me
         So dear home-bound
   hold fast to what you found
            that nasty morning
of numb thoughts and frozen breath

Happiness is an enigma
It is the joy in your heart
When the illusion of continuity
Plays havoc with your perceptions
The child or grandchild is only metaphorically you
Close resemblance notwithstanding my dear
You, a quivering arrow, were shot ahead so have no fear
Your child, or child of your child, is, like you, a message to the future
And happiness is a feeling of seeming well-being and equilibrium
Borne on wings of optimism and transitory like the seasons
Happiness is the sparkle in the eyes of loved ones
Brought about by your presence in a room filled with experiences
For everyone, no matter what, needs a witness
The great feats of our lives are nothing unless chronicled
By silent witnesses and scribes who see and wonder so as to tell
Happiness is a hot meal served generously on a smiling platter
And spiced with the verve of their eagerness to please and to love
Happines is many things besides, but above all it is elevation
To the dizzy heights of apparent permanence in a passing world
Happiness comes easily when we do the simple things of life
That elude those who are forever looking for complications
When you're happy it makes me trusting, peaceful and contented
Yet, in my desperation I may have imagined what pleases me most
But, as they say, 'it is well' - everything may, after all, be just a mirage

I came this far
risked limb and all
in my creaking car
just to see the sea
Lo,what a wondrous sight!

it was a bitter day, early morning
and he'd just come out of moaning
the day after the weepy mourning
occasioned by a rather soft dismissal
of his peculiarly bad circumstances
leading to that unexpected acquittal
in the courts of street common sense
where they said he was not aggrieved
that he was too well-groomed to qualify
for the title of most distinguished destitute
and that he'd never been guilty of being adrift
and the bitter tears welled in his smarting eyes
he rather liked the elevated status of depraved excellency

i'm writing
the mother of all poems
a poem with a taste like late harvest wine
a poem with whiffs of smoke and loud bird calls
i'm writing
the mother of all poems
a poem that closes the schisms and binds like glue
one that makes you drowsy under the shade
and gives shape and size to your thirsts
i'm writing
the mother of all poems
a poem with the delicate poise of a ballerina in a tutu
and the raw energy of an entranced ethnic dancer in the tropics
driven by the booming sounds of a pulsating drum
i'm writing
the mother of all poems
soft to the touch like finest silk or velvet
restful like a wind that's been around the world and back
i'm writing
the mother of all poems
a poem that will say it all in a single definitive word
a poem whose cadence is a hypnotic chant for therapeutic sessions
i'm writing a poem for all people in all places for all time
so indeed they wait and hope to catch the word in their hearts

She used to obey his every whim
       Love then was obedience
She used to let him have his way
       Love then was playing along

In those days he was never to be questioned
      His every word was like a deity's proclamation
In those days his every fancy was as good as done
       His every mood was to be humoured

Now he is the piper and she pays for his services
          He plays any melody she demands
She tells him what to dream and how to talk about it
            Lady luck deserted him the day the tables turned

her contours are what everyone yearns for
perfect and full with inimitable symmetry
she's the prize at the end of our flights of fancy
when deprivation is erased and forgotten

that walk is pure physical bliss that kills the blues
and stirs long-forgotten desires and  emotions
she rolls around as only she knows how to
and her rich bust bounces and dances happily

these are the things that we have always imagined
an aesthetic figure moulded in heaven amid music
from the depths of our deep and unihibited longing
to be held close and cherished in tender moments

woman, the ground you walk on is awed by it all
it sighs so softly you never detect its abandon
lady, your attributes are the things that define you
especially that beauty from life's bouquet of surprises

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

The song in my poem
is pure gold
My poem
overflows with cuddly music
that's a comfort when I'm forsaken
and is re-assuring when days are bad
The song in my poem is for all seasons
devastating when I'm in ruins
fortifying when I march to my demise
and a prompt for the compulsive actions
of the fools of history
The song in my poem
can lead you to perdition and oblivion
or it can lead you to ecstacy and contrived joy
or the sweet freedom of being gone forever
I am alive to all the posibilities on life's menu
and I'm the gourmet that chefs rustle up the magic for