Who is the master
And who the slave
The one with the whip, the master be
The one whipped, the slave you see

The master, must clothe feed and protect
The slave, merely work and collect

Freedom, over rated commodity at best
Only good, remembered at feast
With equality, the burden is shared
All equal, some more, in harvest bared

Freedom, the choice of master to serve
Never a freedom, more deserved
Slaves to our elect, we’ve become
Only riches and fortune, for some

The slave, now a master by right
Is everything, now alright?

Why do we run?
Where, has it all begun?
A feeble adventure, to excite the mind
An attempt, to begin to find

Find
Find what
Find the next thrill
         the next high
                next rush
Adrenalin, alcohol, drugs, ***, all played
Nothing stayed

Where, will this end?
What’s, around the next bend?

Are we running to, or
Are we running from
To, to what and why,
From, from what and why

The answer is nei

We are searching
Searching for the most precious, spectacular and valuable
                   for the uncharted, undiscovered, unexplored
                         the hidden, obscured and illusive
Searching, searching for the self

The real self is I
The I, without the ego
          without the cars, houses, status and standing
The I, that’s here to serve
                    here to apologize, recognize, compliment, help and support

The I, that I forgot

Five bedroom house, in estate
BMW, best of late
Cocktail wife, with breast inflate
Kids at play, on playmate
Mr. Jones, my best mate
Repossession of cars, on that date

A victim of my ego, I’ve become

Before dawn, on treadmill I run
Contracts, forecasts, reports my day begun
Sorry, I’ll be late, for supper ***
At home, after the sun
I promise, tomorrow, we’ll play my son

A victim of my ambition, I’ve become

Almost all, my hair turned grey
Its ulcers, that’s what the doctor say
My secretary, she led me astray
For another drink, I will stay
Tonight alone, in my house I lay

A victim of myself, I’ve become

Gentle stream, caressing stone
Tree tops sway, as breeze pass throw
Delirious fragrances, fill my own
Kind moonlight dance, on face below
A crisp autumn night, on me bestow

In the forests around Klipkoppie dam near White River, Mpumalanga, on an autumn night.

Water like horses, rolls the sand
While gentle air, breeze the land
The bow, a *** of gold to show
Drops of rain, on face bestow
I need, nowhere else to go

Standing on the Umhlanga beach on a rainy day with the sun breaking through the clouds.

Red and orange, paint the sky
Shades draw long, until there’s nei
Dark silhouette, of desert land
Untouched, by human hand
This is where, I like to stand

Sun setting over Dune 7, Walvisbay, Namibia.

Freedom of choice, can never be
Rather, a designed destiny

With
Accidents, default settings by design
Coincidences, planned occurrences in time
Surroundings, attracted by rhyme
Then what, is the influence of time?

A matrix known, to only a few
The rest a drift, never knew
Only filling gaps, for the few

Like sheep, alive in meadow
On man’s command, they go
Slaughter sheering feeding, they never know
So, do we really want them to row?

Do they want to row?

Do we actually harvest what we sow?
Or is it just, part of the flow?

The creation, the creator
Creation part, mirror of creator we got
Creator, father master or god
The creator of life
        sustainer of life
        taker of life

Life and destiny, all switches by design
Vested, in life’s spiral line
By design, responses triggered in time
Events, occurrences and stimuli, as rhyme
By design, some survive
The great deluge, and strive
To afford the creator, to retain life

Control of creation, designed precaution
For all will serve, even abortion
To evade this control and destiny
I change the switches, vested in me
Now in my hand, my destiny be.

Into wind, I turn a blistered face
Life draining, at a fierce pace
Is their any, saving grace
Please, remove me, from this place
Soon, my existence will leave no trace
Hopes dreams whishes life, erase

Absence of cool, calm and collect
Heat, the nurturer of life and respect
Now, the taker of my life, perfect
Dry, lifeless sand
        Emotionless, killer land
There, I had to stand

An ocean of fire, in all its flare
Heat waves rolling, without a care
Drowning, desert sands so bare
Exciting, enraging, stimulating fever
All this excitement, in my stare

Fire lit, to warm the hart
Warm comfort, ease for start
Fire started, with desert chart

Life without love is like a barren desert but once the spark is lit love is like a raging fire.