"combi" poems
—for Mariel
She sells 2 sole paltas beside street
vendors who whistle at crop-top-clad girls,
spewing profanities complete
with broken English. She has four girls
hungry at home. They dream of science, stars,
constellations that spiral and sparr
with particles that make us what we are —
interrupted by howling dogs, the 5
AM tamale man, and stray **** crows.
Amid dust-clouds of Zona D, the sun arrives
over the peak Luis claims once exposed
his innocent eyes to an angel: one
tale of faith raised on culture come undone
presently. Poet Andrea Gibson
writes, “I said to the sun, ‘Tell me about
the Big Bang.’ And the sun said, ‘it hurts to
become.’” At dusk, Mariel takes a Combi out
sixteen stops from Quince, up 302
steps to a turquoise shack and a red rose
garden, and plants avocado seeds at her toes.
Poco a poco, se anda lejos.
Apr 4, 2015
Apr 4, 2015 at 10:59 PM UTC
when the world,
was much younger
and i was a stupid-crazy
girl-ly-chick, enamoured
with her youth.
i drove, a sunshine,
lemon, yellow bottomed, white pith on top combi van. coyly, cloyingly named Mello Martha.
it was...surfboards and swimsuits,
egg and bacon sangers,
early morning breezes,
after a blitz at the breadbox.
before... changing into
the structured, tortured baby, bank teller blues,
in the back,doors left open.
it was... rockin, knockin,
*** on credit,
to a promised future,
alluded to, but postponed,
for the moment.
it was... bruised back and
grazed knees,
harder, deeper oh god!
oh god! please... faster, fucken frenzies,
on a saturday night.
it was....running away to nowhere,
to find myself,
then finding me,
running away from,
the self i didn't want to know.
noway, nowhere, nohow.
it was... a barrel of monkeys, a barrel of laughs,
a keg of beer,
a box of wine,
under the crowded stars.
it was.... a roadtrip,
up the coast,
midnight bonfire,
midnight munchies,
playing hunches,
exploring reefs and reefers and such.
it was...far from family
and church rules,
a friendly rebellion,
of loud, proud youth.
totally and brazenly,
uncouth
it was... wham! and m.j.
cindy and boy george's culture club ,paperlace,
billy idol and the beach boys.
sung with abandon,
at spinal tap level eleven.
it was... peaceful, quiet, sleeping grace.
insanely in love with...
i forgot his name.
it was.... the birth of bodaciously me.
all brass hair and bosoms,
wild and carefree.
it was ....so long ago,
it was... yesterday night,
when i saw... Mello Martha's identical twin,
stopped at a traffic light.
it was... sunshine and lemon, bitter and sweet,
as she sailed off, down the street.
i sat and watched,
wist, full of recollect,
far and away, from my presently minded place...
sitting in, the driver's seat,
of my mom-blue subaru.
Jun 8, 2014
Jun 8, 2014 at 6:16 PM UTC
You go strains of mad when...
...Ambition becomes Eating Your Own Hunger Pains
With savaged pride you feel that all you need to achieve in life
Can be done faster with gold and good courtship
You croon apologies to your ideas and hope they stay.
They don't stay.
You go strains of mad when...
...Demonic intercession is hailed as miracle
You pay your division of a vast tithe into coffers you never see
and watch with shame and awe at a penetrative truth
working noisily behind curtains.
This polls well.
You go strains of mad when...
...Dust and diamonds are sold as combi-packs,
**** comes in boxes of strict six; for illustrative purposes, if you want four you've got to sell or discard two for your reputation.
There's no loyalty card or price-break on bulk.
I'm flat broke.
You go strains of mad when...
...A nobody sketches you with disarming accuracy
Their medium is a third hand snipe relayed with bitter remove
No more the taut nymphette lounged aground, on the rocks
The naked crystal uniform of your debtless regime, gone.
You're a shirt and name-tag girl now.
You go strains of mad when...
...Pockets burst outside the Church yard sale
The Ministry guilts you into buying all the furniture and music
moving it one piece at a time into your life until
suddenly you have a Church to burn
Just in time for winter.
Sep 7, 2016
Sep 7, 2016 at 8:30 AM UTC
for some reason,
unnown yet
i am sitting here
hot coffee in hand
transfixed by the
memory of a day
lifetimes ago.....
when i took a wrong turn
seeking a small town... and
a cobbler of soft leather shoes...
instead i found myself
on a bush track, far too
narrow to turn my combi
van around
forced to travel on...
getting further and further
along
until, abruptly the track widened
and the most gorgeous vista
appeared
green grass, sedges and spinfex in waves,
led down to a billabong, eucalypt gums,
ghost and red,
large in size and old in years
dotted the irregular,
ameboic shape
and the water,
so clear, so clear, so clear
reflecting the cloud dusted sky,
to one side the face of a gorge, ochre red rusted
crazed weith black cracks
and green whiskery growths,
on which rock wallabies fed.
unafraid of the big lemoned
wedged combi, who sat
monolithically in their environs.
as i disembarked,
up from the grass thicket, one thousand and one (i counted) budgerigars alight and took to the wing,
in a swirling mass of
god's whimsical glory.
the sound, a deafening
chirk-chatter and whoosh
as they, in sychron,
wheeled and turned flew over my head and back into the bush.
needless to say, i never bothered to buy those soft
leather shoes.....
May 18, 2014
May 18, 2014 at 7:03 PM UTC
He could have walked away,
For there were many a reason to do so;
But he never did;
He was there through the highs and lows.
I gave him many a reason
To walk away for good;
And yet he stayed beside me
While I was in his neighbourhood.
There were panic attacks, crying,
Semi madness, paranoia;
All the usual consequences of
Being assaulted a year earlier.
There were so many times
I expected him to be gone;
I warned him in fact that -
I’m not worthy – my people are gone!
There is no need to put up with me,
Its not good for your health;
I’m used to people disappearing,
I’ll deal with things myself.
For I am being punished,
It’s how its meant to be;
At least for those of us assaulted
....in the middle of the sea.
But of course he didnt understand,
He’s from a different culture;
He wasn’t afraid to hold my hand
And protect me from the torture.
He has probably never met anyone
As mad and unstable as me;
Coming to stay in Soweto
And feeling so totally free.
He saw my love of Soweto,
For the children, the people, and more;
He spent so much time exploring his home with me –
He’d learnt which combi to get door to door!
When I had to get to clinics,
Not just one, two, three, or four (!)
He spent two days right there with me
As we waited hours to reach the door.
He didnt have to do that,
He has work to do back home;
Yet even when I shouted at him –
He never left me alone.
Of course I apologised later,
Tried to help him understand;
That my brain does its own thing,
Yet he was still there to hold my hand.
He never once walked away,
And thats when it occurred to me;
What a complete cultural contrast
....to our “people of the sea”...
My “family” are now Sowetans,
Although i’ve known that for a while;
When the clinics registered me as an “African”
All I did was smile.
Of all the times I thought i’d given
A reason for him to abandon me,
There was one in particular –
Where he’d be fully justified to flee.
To protect yourself i’d understand,
You may need to walk away;
And yet he didnt – he put himself at risk
...to protect me, I have to say....
It’s not an easy place to live,
He could have walked away;
I’m forever grateful for his bravery
And that he didnt walk away.
For a place where for so long,
Segregation was the norm,
It has come such a very long way –
Since the day I was born.
My culture, mixed as it is
Has not suffered in this way;
Instead it shuns and alienates people
....if they “dont obey”....
Well done South Africa,
Though the problems you face are not gone;
You could teach a lot to “my people”..
..a culture that needs to be re- born.
Aug 8, 2018
Aug 8, 2018 at 6:58 PM UTC
Ketchup and mustard
Cancelling each other's finest
So what, it ain't bad
But it weren't us the slightest
Apr 26, 2014
Apr 26, 2014 at 8:33 AM UTC
my mother is losing her words
or at least, misplacing them
(*there may well be,a great pile of them, lying around
lauguishing, somewhere*)
her mind is slipping,
on it's weary and
hard-work-worn cogs.
she sometimes has difficulty,
grasping new concepts,
or attatching two thoughts,
coherently together.
and sometimes the blankness behind her eyes
reaches the horizon and beyond.
(and scares the very dickens out of me)
we have lots more, doovers
and thingies and whatsits,
in the house...
and usage of these and other,
all purpose words,
that lead to subtle guessing games,
has increased manifold,
creating conversations,
that drift, into the territories of
"remember the kid with the
doover thingies,
red....on his head.... on his head" !!!
(*the boy with the beautiful
red curls and corksrew ringlets*)
perhaps having been,
away and now returned....
i see this more clearly.... whereas, whilst, living
with it daily.
....you just compensate ... and move on.
my brothers do not want to know this.... and nor does she want them to....
they,
have busy lives.....
(note the irony lost and languishing here)
i am concerned,
and speak to both her doctor and the bluecare nurse,
who comes to help with her abulutions and dresses the abrasions from her latest fall.
they say things like,
she is, within the healthy range for her age, 85.
however, there is marked
depreceation in certain areas.....
we need to keep an eye on her...
( and i am reminded of my old combi, sad but true)
in the meantime...
mother, no longer does the cryptic crossword, citing it as mere balderdash(these days)
and we often find the daily
incomplete...
May 18, 2014
May 18, 2014 at 11:36 PM UTC
Floating around the shores of a beach, whilst being all out to sea
I’ve been drifting about, the days are becoming so long
Nobody told me, it could so easily, happen to me
It’s not that it’s bad, I’ve done nothing wrong
It’s just time, as I knew it, seems to have skipped a beat
A month became a year, like time decided not to catch up and meet
Nowhere to sleep, little to eat, only new wayward floaters to greet
Can you see me or do you choose not to?
Acknowledge me, don’t look straight through me
I’m a human with a heart, if it were you, I’d ask about you
Like, how did you get here, how are you going, what’s your view
On political matters, religious stuff, world concerns, that you see
Put down ya phone, look into their eyes, talk to someone anew
Can’t find a job, most boss’s don’t like me, that’s how it seems
Can’t sing a tune or get the right pitch, just listen, that’s what it means
Living by the seashore, breeze in my face, no windows, in diss free place
Be careful who you trust, they’ll steal every dime, it’s a **** rat race
Friendly folk, pass on by, throw you a penny, ‘cause ya down on your luck
Some girls get down on their knees, handle da merchandise, then **** for a buck
Now quite peckish, haven’t eaten for days, down on one knee, oh ****
Can you see me or do you choose not to?
Acknowledge me, don’t look straight through me
I’m a human with a heart, if it were you, I’d ask about you
How did you get here, how are you going, what’s your view
On political matters, religious stuff, world concerns, that you see
Put down ya phone, look into the eyes, talk to someone anew
She’ll be right mate, but every next day, I’m still looking for a place to lay
Under a bush, upon a park bench, those **** insects, are having a field day
I’ve had enough, I got the courage, dialed the number, to get me out of here
Up pulled a Combi Van, with a smile on her face, as she wiped away a tear
Silence all the way home, just a nod or two, I'd gaze at her, the way ya do
At night, laying in bed, thoughts rushing in my head, most are true
In the morning, staring at a mirror, I finally saw the boy that my dear mom, once knew.
Dec 17, 2019
Dec 17, 2019 at 9:27 PM UTC