THE TRUTH ABOUT THE NOTE…

The truth of the number on it, is false
Run around miserable like a fun waltz
Dance in worship to the note, cattle, tooth
Die of tire before seeing the sad truth

The details on notes like the details that give
it power. Pushed with precision, live
men making money’s labyrinth return to
their hands, but they also wait in death’s queue.

If you need an easy buck, cut down trees, mine
coins, give it your own value. Undermine
the banks, make hatred useless, love priceless,
crush evil’s markets and invest in greatness.

That dumb note, the ruler slaving you away
The truth: it’s value is whatever you say.

A mournful wail
But brain makes her a whisper
Your heart, somewhere, feels a distance
As they khuluma
And you can’t
Yet they praat
And you caught a bietjie

long stretches of disappointing time
have turned you blind
to your dreams
X

well, in this time i have grown my vision
now i play life’s game
with better timing and precision
O

blind as you are
you’ll trip on your past convictions
flat on your face, full of regret
X

i pray
i don’t become blind
the older i get
O

resume to live by my unwise heart
manoeuvre to where
my unsure mind sees best
O

and this is how i see i’ll win,
where you have lost,
in the cruel game of life
O

(3 O’s in a row. I win!)

or
is my youth
my fall
X

and i’m unawarely
walking down the same blinding path
as you
X

will i see
that i’m blind
life has got me outplayed and i lost?
X