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

once there was a corner shop somewhere here
and a toothless man who smiled from ear to ear
his hardened gums were a vibrant red colour
and his demeanor said he’d been there before,
seen all the wonderful new things in his dreams
and had a foretaste of what was now the present
from him we learned that dreams are a version
of reality tinged with foregone conclusions
today, organized chaos, tomorrow anarchy!
flowers and flower shops shall truly flourish
as we buy old fancies and dispense with surprises
in a brave new world where nothing ever matters
so let the flowers bloom and glisten in the sun
and in showers of rain and avalanches of ruin
as the edifices of conceited man tumble and crash
perhaps we might then glow softly like the petals
of new species of flowers telling the world a word
or two about duplication and replication in time

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

che turns in his grave
and lumumba sheds a tear
to think of the things they're doing
these absurd modern types
rebels without a cause
freedom fighters with no clue
what it's all about or the reason
to forego all luxury
till your colours flutter in the wind
meanwhile all you can do is
dream about pizza on a neon-lit evening
a girl sitting on your lap
a nonchalant scowl on your face
and the inevitable fizzy a-bubbling
this man who has never been oppressed
spots a mane of hair done like samson's
seeing my interest he puts a business card on the table:
freedom fighter, the card says
how different today's struggles are!

couch!
ouch ...

if you're looking for an apple
then you've come to the right place
i'm red and ready for your pouted lips
i'm smooth, glossy and juicy like heavenly nectar
i'm true, wholesome and authentic with no toxics
and with me you're guaranteed full health and happiness

if you want to cuddle
you've come to the right place
i'm long, slim and yellow with a smoothness that's hard to beat
i am good when you travel, sweet without being cloying
your banana boat song is a hymn to my tropical warmth
and i'm suave and exotic to the hilt, you can't do better than me

if you want to drown in sweetness
tangelo is your lady, and you've come to the right place
i'm buxom, round and absolutely oozing with juice and sugar
i'm exotic and you find me only where good taste is supreme
and believe me once you **** my depths and drink my juice
you're forever a great believer in aesthetic cuisine

And for you life can be gulp after gulp of sweetness and joy

your father was a gambler
and the story of his life
clung to the seat of his pants
and the holes on his knees
your next meal was always
just a deal away on some nights
his hand was rock steady
his steely gaze was cold and firm
and not even the unattired thighs
of a jezebel could distract him
after he had sniffed the money
so you flourished in a home
that was a blooming oxymoron
with a hard-faced survivor
of many knife duels for a father
and a mother with a lovely face
and a mardi gras queen smile
my fickle heart was rather coy
and my tongue was quiet and still
when i should have sung your praises
and extolled your awesome virtues
and your resplendent face in the dusk
faint heart trembles at the altar of her grace
but brave buck walks to his fate with zeal
so i kneel and i meditate your serenity
wrought by art alive in your hungry heart

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

'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

Rita
Sullen, sultry but delectable nevertheless
She looked at me like an adjudicator
And my confidence sank way down low
I became a blubbering idiot
Whimpering like an orphaned puppy

                      Theodora
Bereft of height but redeemed somewhat by her face
She looked at me like I was the answer to all her prayers
And my disdain for seekers of things personal shot through the roof
I became this despicably insensitive yuppie living only for music
And her pining heart sent her home early upon a light breeze

                       Maria
clear complexion with the tone of ripe yellow peaches
She walked out of a shower into the sunshine like a subject of art
When her gaze touched my doting eyes I was lost forever
And my obsession with beauty and allure was well and truly fanned
I became a frequent visitor at the altar of romantic slaughter where dreams die

                        Elsie
Dark, with dancing eyes and a bobbing ***** replete with femininity
Elsie tortured me with her hungry look then huffed like she was breathing her last
My infatuation with girls that treated me like a killer of their hearts began here
I desperately wanted to reciprocate her take-me-now urges under the June sky
But alas, these things were never meant to be; she was just a maid and I was on the way up

                        Peggy
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 it was a blessing
She made my ego grow in leaps and bounds and had a figure like an artist's model
I was stunned by her loving openness and could have tied the knot if I could
But circumstances, as always, altered cases and we went our separte ways for good

                        Clementine
Succulent like the clementine, her namesake, she aired her feelings out for me to see
She had a bigger sister who treated me like I was what her sister needed in perpetuity
Clementine and I shared a secret that we kept from my besotted cousin
My love for intrigue and convolution henceforth was my driver in matters of the heart
And I grew into this heartless beau who needed to be rescued from his own folly

And today in my armchair under the leafy avocado pear tree I sit and wonder where I lost it

Poetry gives the magic back to words
and makes words flesh again
as it was in the beginning
till our quantum-leap thoughts
spurred on by incantatory rhythms
often like latterday Gregorian chants
materialize into the dancing silhouettes
of solid but surrealistic forms in fantastic hues
thus the poet is the custodian of creation from nothing

your coming in with the rising sun
in soft morning light and glistening dew
made me think life could be  a huge smile
and that nothing about you could be a trifle

conversation with you was like lyrical poetry
full of measured tones and profound emotion
words are wholesome food when one is enamoured
you sip their oozing nectar at every sugary pause

your voice was like a heavenly harp magically played
by expert fingers dancing to an inspired melody
that only i and they could hear, and cherish like a dream
thus see me now with my face still ravaged by possibilities

but alas, you decided to take your leave with the dying day
and i knew my bewilderment would last the stretch of eternity
you walked away into the twilight and never once looked back
those who go away with the setting sun do not always rise with it

He’s gone flying
Across the azure skies
While in your juices you fry

He’s gone paddling in the lake
Where tiger fish are jumping
While you lie in a puddle

He’s gone wan and solid
And remained stolid
While you wilt like a dying flower

Little ant, so small and insignificant
Yet in numbers up an elephant’s snout
How easily you make him indisposed
Lesson to learn: strength in numbers
Maxim to remember: unity of purpose

Oh termite, thou destroyer of civilizations!
How mighty when surreptitiously you creep in
Such ingenious civil engineering feats everywhere
Orderly highways with neither jams nor congestion
And tall imposing castles kissing the air proudly
Result: new architectures plagiarizing your prototype!

And you wasp of constricted waist and mean toxin
You make no attempt to hide or disguise your dwelling
Yours is a house built upon a hill for all to see and tremble
They say when a man has no obvious protection keep away
Lest you trigger subtle forces that mesmerize and pulverize you
Lesson from this: commandos are modern day human wasps

Everybody owes the bee everything, from sweetness to health
The bees a-buzzing speak of persistence and how it breaks barriers
In the end you listen because the message is ceaseless and urgent
And oh sweet bee of the hot sting shot from your posterior
No cordon bleu chef anywhere can ever approximate your finesse
Your formula and patent are hedged with natural mystery
Lesson to learn: the bitter and the sweet in judicious mixture!

Now little man recently so puffed-up and conceited and ever so inadequate
Hear ye this and know it well lest you stumble and fall into dark precipices
You’re nothing and you’ve created nothing; there’s a prototype of everything
In nature’s wonder store of huge surprises and unassuming wisdom
Lesson from all this: one day the other world will rise up and assert it itself
So steer your course differently and beware of those who bide their time
Grim in their purpose and determined in their unshakable resolve

make each other happy
if you can and when you can
and especially when feel you can’t
because opportunity often eludes us

we're all colour and bliss as we sit
fleeting guests at the table of life
where we learn to savour the sweets
of the world's ephemeral treats

when our little dance in the sun is done
like butterflies we fold our wings
till the next flight, as memories mope around
in the vaults of our shared experiences

thinking and feeling something's just not enough
and never thinking and feeling anything's just as rough
so while there's time for hope, love and sincerity
have a heart to heart talk about the things that really matter

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

from my little nook
in the pale shadows
of recalcitrant time
hawk-eyed i shall sit and watch
see you fall and rise
and be a silent witness again
to life being the sly master
in whose reticence we sink
as its lessons pass us by

a heartbreak is the open book
of love's broken promises
that by hook or crook we evade
keeping, and sink in the quagmire
of a misery enunciated by our moans
someone must break your waxy heart
to make you a true lover one day soon

a sullen blue monday
can be a lovely green haven
when new profound thoughts sprout
and we know then that heaven is a state
induced by the euphoria and warmth
radiated by the creative hub on the hearth
that incubates our long-suffering dreams
let us go forward then, today a mess of hopes
and tomorrow couch potatoes venture out

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

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

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

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

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

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

the dud man wanted a saint
but she failed his mean test
even after a faint and a feint
with a huge sigh he let it rest
took up his rucksack and left
she cast him  a long wistful look
her slumped pose the picture
of internal dejection and anguish
sharpened by an endless lament
that she'd not shown him his theft
of the aching heart of a  live woman
of vibrant flesh, blood and dreams
she longed to tell him straight
she was not an idea to be analysed
and later discarded like an abused rag
but the unkind distance engulfed him
even as the rays of the sinking sun
blended their gold with his yellow attire
thus she knew as of that unfeeling day
such mishaps were the very fabric of life

indisposition, indisposition
you drive a hard bargain!
indisposition leave me till it's done
leave me
till I've kissed a girl and made her cry
leave me
till i've written my story in one word
leave me
till i've been to the ends of the earth
leave me
till i've died a little for everyone
indisposition dear taskmaster
leave me
till i've made amends for all the crazy things i've done
and for all the phenomenal things i haven't done
indisposition leave me be
till aching dreams have eased into being
leave me
till i have proven my traducers and detractors wrong
indisposition, then and only then
can i float and gloat like a happy ghost
forever in ethereal limbo before the next airy phase
indisposition,
leave me till it's done!

in my dreams i'm in a car
and i'm driven like a star
the crowds yell their adulation
elated i soak in the adoration

in my dreams nothing is impossible
and everything is just so possible
the hapless ones whine their malice
undeterred i rinse the silver chalice

in my dreams the prize of my longing
is the open door through which i'm going
though my goal is a starry distance away
i trudge on and do not mind the drudgery

in my dreams i cling to the elusive sweetness
of a myriad near-misses and close shaves
and time like a dream keeps on flying,flying
into ethereal worlds unknown in fancy blue

in my dreams  the sun's always shining bright
the clouds are always fleeing life's warm breath
and i'm like the messenger that never arrived
with the good news of life for all who labour

in my dreams the sound track is melancholic
it is played in low dignified notes that mourn
a past that has become the miserable present
and cry about a future that is temperamental

in my dreams everyone has a dream come true
and everyone weeps till they can weep no more
the silence is spiced with occasional sighs
and deep words that never die ride the wind

In their time
In their clime
They did
what they could
And it stood
What do we do
In our time
And in our clime?
Will what we do stand?
O fellow poets, have a heart
Be not like Aeschylus
the poet on Greek shores
so distracted and abstracted
he could not see
the lamagayer's missile
aimed at his shining dome
Your poetic heart should be home
singing sweet phrases to scarred clouds
and healing the wounds
from uncaring man's foolhardy actions
Write poetry to make the ocean's heart
heat up and sweat
Make the clouds ravenous
Till they weep upon the earth
and the world becomes a sea of green

i see you
in the magnificence of your aura
and in your splendour
a supple aesthetic comma
with cupped hands
i see you
scoop up the water and let it trickle through your fingers
even as the weaver birds chatter ceaselessly outside
i see you
in that magical moment, a rainbow on your *****
as the fine rose sprays your body with resplendent water
in a wondrous fusion of sun, water and glowing inner warmth
i see you
break into a lyrical smile brimming with beauty and belief
and i think to myself
you're the story still to be conceived
the epic poem in heroic couplets in the making
you're the holy grail men have sought in their pilgrimages
i shall create a chant and a mantra in your honour
even as your person and your image vanquish me
and that's what love is
you're consumed by your mate in the fashion of the black widow
a ravenous spider that eats love

when the rain calls
this smitten heart falls
and there are heavy showers
in its pensive chambers
torrid feelings are brewed
as the day's fare is stewed
raucous are the thunderclaps
across a grieving heart
that feasts upon the sad cuisine
spewed forth by vindictive life
and abetted by an ailing soul
this song will never end
and the tears will never stop
for it keeps raining in my heart

wherever i find myself is my home
so don't hit me with vagrancy laws
wherever I spend the night is home
home this day and the next perhaps?
let the grass shelter me
and let the dew on its blades quench my thirst
the syrup from the funnels of the flowers
sweetens my hitherto dull and predictable life
I'm so richly blest
hate no one
hurt no one
I want so little and need much less
it's everybody's world
though some may want to be grasping

this is the part where we say
it was nice knowing you dear
go to your destiny with no fear
let my tattered heart shed its tear
as i feel you slip away from me
on a morning when nothing makes sense
because you have chosen to go and make cents
in the ignominy of a fabled land across the big river
and i shall without doubt in the days ahead be in a shiver
and weep when i think of the things we do for nothing
in this world of sorrow and intrigue from the schemes of others

Jeannie
is off to the bus
Jeannie
waltzes to the bus
Ooh what a drag
the conductor says
Jeannie
the bus is full
Jeannie
has a heartbreak
it was
all for nothing
the perfume
the high heels
and
the walk on air

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 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

No matter what new trick he tried
A new deodorant or mouth freshener
Sideburns, swagger or rascally scowl
She yawned, wore her pretty little frown
And swore that he was playing the gem
When he was just another line in her poem

No matter what new-fangled idea he brought
She told him plain and square in caustic words
He wasn’t an iota of what she wanted or sought
So he went back to nights of pining and misery
And morning vigils for the postman’s delivery
Hoping to be more than just another line in her poem

Thinking and believing he could leave and learn
He went abroad to build his sunken profile
In places where none could ever him deride or stifle
Since there’s always some safety in anonymity
But when finally he landed on their shores again
He was still not more than just another line in her poem

So let's live and learn to read the writing on the wall
No matter what; and no matter how this order might be tall
For it matters not what fantasies or novelties you conjure
From what exotic lands or eccentric peoples far and wide
She remains spoken for by the high ideals of her imagination
And you forever will be just another line in her waspish poem