Stories told

I write in my native tongue,
the language of my ancestors,
I re tell the stories passed down to me,
stories fantastical,
mythological,
too unreal to be logical,
but too logical to be unreal
I speak in words that were spoken to me,
when I was too young to understand their meaning,
meaning to understand when I was young,
and remember when I got older,
and I think I did-
I sing songs that I don't remember the words to,
to the offspring of those who came after me,
after all my own are too old for such things,
I write words in my native tongue,
lest I forget from where I came,
so the words will be there,
long after I am  not.

On this Day

And on the day they will come for me,
they'll remember the heavens opened and drowned their souls
trying in
vain to purify the rotten heart that beats within them,
they'll remember the sky darkened before it's time,
into a colour no artist had ever seen,
would see ever again
the howls that escaped from deep throats wild with pain,
anger
and a cowardliness that only comes after the fact
regretfully,
or not,
they would remember,
they would,
for time has a habit of holding on-
history has a habit of being relived
and mistakes of those who came before us
are repaid by those who are yet to come,
on the day they come for me

Don't be afraid

If you take all the bad in the world
bundle it up into one hazardous waste to humanity,
don't be afraid,
don't...
then stand back and take stock of all the other things,
it's amazing what you'll see-
beneath weeds,
sprays of violets,
daisies and wild irises
flocks of feathered friends calling for family,
come,
eat, is there anything better than this...
trees green, uplifting arms to catch the warmth on budding leaves,
smell the air,
smell it-
children screaming without inhibition,
in the streets,
parks,
in packs too large to count-
envious adults standing close, arms twitching,
mouths moving silently
wanting to break out in song,
the elderly tapping their feet to tunes only they can hear,
or smiling to voices of yesterday,
blue skies,
stretching as far as the eye can see,
and then some,
clarity
serenity
peace-
freedom,
don't be afraid,
don't.

How to

It reveals itself to me in small fragments,
mine is not to question,
but to piece together the whole body—
segmented and nonsensical
disjointed, 
I make mistakes
I wait,
patience has never been one of my strong traits,
sometimes— 
for days,
for weeks
the pieces delude me,
hover around me,
taunting me,
will there be an end,
and then,
when all is still
silence blankets my world,
my mind,
the pieces come together,
the body is whole
and the mind can rest

Sometime, Tomorrow

Sometime,
tomorrow,
I will ride the wave of my life.
I will be the success of successes
I will do great things—
tomorrow.

I will fly planes, across lands undiscovered,
heal the sick
and create world peace,
tomorrow.

I will write a literary great,
have scholars—digress,
regress,
possess
my words,
tomorrow.

I will—
define the secrets of the world,
the righteous paths that lead to forever,
define everlasting life to the dying
gratify the souls of the damaged,
the lost,
the forgotten.

I will,
tomorrow.

A little Girl's Footsteps

A little girl's footsteps,
lead to nowhere.
She was here,
she was,
was she?
Where do they lead,
but to nowhere,
nowhere discernable.
I saw her,
dressed in a green dress,
ankle socks,
and little black shoes,
ringlets as gold and as shiny as the sun,
rosy cheeks
and a smile wide,
skipping,
heard her laughter carry through the air,
alone she was,
but she didn't seem to mind,
I saw her I did,
I did see her,
skipping
and laughing—
alone,
so where did she go,
this little girl,
her footsteps—
footsteps,
there,
lead,
lead, to nowhere.

Diminished Light

Oh!
My diminished light,
what has become of you?
I started off with great intentions,
big plans and the need for success
and what followed—
pure misery.

Where did I go wrong?
Oh, light of lights
that you should distinguish at that most crucial moment
that you should leave me blind,
not just in the dark,
but with a darkened heart
and soul that left me to find refuge somewhere else.

What happened?
I do not know,
did not know,
could not understand why...
still do not.

Oh!
I am rendered helpless,
hopeless,
a failure—
lead me again,
show me something,
anything,
before it is too late.

Life in the Green

A seed thrown

seeking life,

blade of grass,

seeks sun,

water to grow,

hungry,

yearning

almost abandoned,

a fighter

against the troops that

threaten it,

invading

suffocating

determined blades

spread their arms wide,

the war is lost,

but ever brief,

this is history,

a multitude of green shape leaves,

the sun teases,

teases,

overnight a green carpet

some soft,

some prickly,

I lay myself down,

enwrap me,

let me become

from a seed,

nature’s life

I am a pawn

Improvisation keeps me alive
drowning otherwise in your everyday
no one hears my distress call—
why should they
flares splutter
anti climactic
and I'm still pigeon holed because you say so—
ah,
what a disgrace,
what have I become
a nothing in a nothing world
where gamblers
and junkies
and hooded men
rule kingdoms bigger than what King Arthur ever did
naive sufferings
this is the now
and I am a pawn
dictators
and motivators
and self help gurus,
you have nothing on me
I will fade to waste
in a world that
just
does
not
care anymore,
did it ever
I don't think so

Predetermined Destiny

He was a damaged man,
they all spoke in whispers
sometimes loud enough for him to hear
that he was the forgotten one
she'd left him you see,
but you couldn't blame her,
not really—
just look at him,
they'd say,
could you blame her?
He was a damaged man,
a simple man
he could not add
could not dress
how could one expect a woman to stand by his side
what could he offer her?
He was a damaged man,
it wasn't his fault
not really
you only had to remember his mother
his father—
though many chose to forget that beast of a man
who used her like a punching bag
battered black and blue,
just
before
he
was
born—
ah, it all makes sense really,
he never had a chance
he was always a damaged man
it was his predetermined destiny
how was he ever to survive...

When it all makes sense

Sometimes all the right words get glued to the roof of my mouth
and the only ones that find their way
are the words that don't mean much—
sometimes the memories that I want to remember
are locked in a vault
so deep that I cannot grab them
and the only ones that I can remember are the ones that make me
sad—
sometimes when I close my eyes
and try to find you,
your eyes,
lips,
hair evade me—
I only see me
sometimes the pain is too much—
gut wrenching,
I cannot breathe
and sometimes I lay away at night and it's all that I can do
from crying myself to sleep
but then—
something happens
small
in an everyday
mundane thing—
I smile
sometimes I even laugh out loud
without feeling silly
or feeling like I shouldn't
sometimes through the clouds
the sun shines through
and—
I feel you
and you're okay
I'm okay
sometimes

Whining, whining

I won't be there in the morning
your self pity is evident even while
you are asleep—
your defeatist attitude
lack of stance—
responsibility baffles me
I cannot be around you anymore
you bring me down
rapidly and with force
you weigh me down with your imcompetence—
negativity
whining
whining
whining—
I cannot stand
Grow up!
This is it—
it doesn't get any better than this
whoever told you it was easy—
lies,
all lies!
Take charge,
I cannot pave your path
nor can I hold your hand forever
this is it
make it yours

Let history dictate

Parvati came to visit
Devi Durga, I bow before you
Divine knowledge, I seek
She spoke in quiet tones—
soothed my soul
this is history, she said
Agni, Vayu, Indra
no good can come of this
be true to your self
and everything else shall follow

My time

Desire life
I toast you
glass in hand
this is your time—
they are all here for you
fireworks light the sky
a choir,
they chant your name—
this is your time
believe

Weak

Deliver me a sentence
anything other than this,
in shackles, I've stood by you
black tape—
I cannot speak
but this was your plan all along

How grand!

Deliver the news—
big breath,
it is time.
The audience sits,
waits,
fingers strumming on knees
anxious faces,
this is it...
this is it...
this is it!

Oh, the memories

These are the days—
mixed with song
dance
and a giddiness that makes my head spin
twirling
these are the days—
drinks overflow in the best crystal glasses
food overflows on tables laid with lace
these are the days—
that laughter rings in the air
music loud
hands clap,
in tune
out of tune
these are the days—
that make me want to live forever

Indian Summer

Indian summer
trees sway in the breeze,
a lonely sparrow

The Rise and Fall

Take on board all criticism

and disregard it like you would an old coat

leave it beneath your feet

step on it—

stomp on it—

dance on it—

every day if it helps

until it is all but a distant memory—

in time

dust will collect upon it

and years from now

when you are old and grey

you’ll trip on threadbare woolen shreds

and you’ll remember what was said

it won’t matter any more

nothing will—

you will have made your way

success will be yours

and those who spewed forth that venomous doubt

in a verbal spate

will lie humbly six feet under

So it goes

I am swimming between two oceans

I cannot swim 

so I am drowning

in a chasm of green 

blessed by the gods

contaminated by man—

I cannot drink it

nor bath in it

instead I float and pray

ahead I see an island

a chimera

I think—

hope not 

my arms move with a steadfast determination

I ache and yet I swim

until I cannot any more

and I let myself be guided

arms open

the sea is my friend—

I tell myself

I close my eyes

and dream

until I can dream no more

Dreams burst and die

When I succumbed
I knew what I was getting into
there's no point saying I didn't
I'd be lying to myself and to you
you bid your time
I could have fought
I chose not to
why—
I do not know
deep down I'm sure I do
there would be hell to pay
but hell was everyday
no surprises
nothing new
I forgot
at least for a while
and it felt good
to be needed
superficial though it was
you didn't fill my emptiness
you didn't fix the wrongs
you never made any promises
nor I believe you would—
it wasn't ever going to last
naive though I was
this I knew
and when it ended
I was glad

The other side of me

This itch is more than I can take
I scar my body and yet it persists
my blood is on fire—
poisonous
infectious
and yet you are all I think about
I cannot dispel you from within
privileged—my mind—a vault
yet you know my thoughts
intimate
personal
you feed off my vulnerability
I hate you
despise and loathe you—
but I cannot live without you
my thoughts are black
I see no sun light
why must we continue
surely—
it is time for the curtain call
to end this

Desire

Desire nothing more than life itself
the air you breathe
the people you surround yourself with
desire nothing more than your world
the things that make you get up in the morning
the things that make you feel alive—
be they the small things in life
a good cup of coffee
a beautiful meal
a good book—
movie
or night out with friends
desire nothing more than what your competency allows
then nothing can disappoint you
and your desires become reality

To My Friend

There are moments when the things that I remember
are the things you choose to forget
when I can see that you are hurting
even though a smile sits on your face
the colour of your eyes fade, just a little
and no one notices—
but I do

There are times when we're in a group
and you laugh because everyone else does
but I know you don't really want to laugh
cause your eyes are glassy—
and you do that think with your nose
so I stand closer to you
and touch your hand

There are times when you and I don't agree
you nod
but I know you really want to yell at me
cause I don't always think the same as you
and you don't think the same as me
and yes,
we disagree

There are days when I want to stay in bed
and you know how to get me going
it's not what you say
but what you don't
that gets me up
and feeling that I'm worth something
and not a waste of space

There are memories that others don't have—
and I'm not credulous
when someone says
their friend is perfect—
I'm not
you're not
but this is us

Somethings are good
somethings are bad
and it's okay
because you're my friend
and friends have those kinds of moments
and feelings
and memories
and thoughts

Money makes

Clock tower
but time stands still—on
an insignificant hour
and the world continues to pass by
unaware—
men in suits, sleek mobile languidly held to the ear
talking to some drone that promises to make them more dollars
to put in a black bag
bank account
under the bed-
more zeros than anyone could possibly count
spend
or know what to do with
enough money to feed an army
a country
a world
greed-
gorge
revolting
envy
ecstasy
doom
clock tower
hands tick ever so slowly
last breath taken
while a mother cries with rage-
no money here
no food
no meds
just death
what to do-
money makes the world go round
and round
and down

Memories are made like this

Go now, she said
you've done more than enough
more than I ever wanted you too-
go now and take some semblance of a sweet memory before it all gets too much
and you see more than I want you to
I love you like the daughter I never had
I love you profoundly
but-
go now,
you've done your part for me
your tidings I will cherish and take with me into my next life-
where beauty awaits
and those who left so long ago
will welcome me with open arms-
go now, she said

Internal wars

Oh,
wretched faceless thing
gutless are you
to attach yourself to the weak-
the old
the lost
and forgotten
Oh,
horrible mask you wear
that feeds on the destitute
until there is only a shell left
and you-
have taken every last breath from within,
What is it you seek and can never find?
Why is it that everything else may find peace-
but you
Oh,
I banish you from this world
I pray that you disappear forever-
But
deep within,
I know my banishment will never see the light
my prayers will go unanswered,
for you are too strong for me-
and this war,
this war one that I will never win

Mirror, mirror

We are the mirror image-
you older
wiser
lines etched, each a story unto its self
yours less consistent-
mine less full of character
Oh-
how times have changed
to this fragmented self
former glory
buried within a body that slowly is giving up on itself-
of a yesterday
when bosom held high
hair braided in the style that was yours alone-
no beauty surpassed yours,
both inside and out
old cliche'
your door open
a cacophony of noise
a barrage of people-
some important
most not-
always welcome,
with all that you had to offer, they would leave
arms laden with all sorts-
some needed
most not-
yours; the home most frequented
the words sought
the smile to brighten their day-
we are the mirror image
If only I am to become what you once were-
proud I am to walk in your steps

This is all I could do

Somewhere-
far, far away
I left my heart beside you
in our bed
asleep-
snoring softly, your arms held close
how you always sleep-
eyes fluttered
I held my breathe and waited-
nothing
I kissed your brow-
softly
a butterfly kiss
before I left
you stirred-
turned your back to me
it was all that I could do to stay
tears stained my face
but I held myself together-
after all tomorrow would come and home again I'd be

In a small town

I know not what I write
for I don't live here
or know the daily suffering
I am in passing
temporary
fleeting
I hear-
bells sound in the distance,
of the great church
lovingly built-
sand stone block by sand stone block
stained glass intricately melded together
to form the Virgin Mary, Jesus in arms
by the nothings of this town-
the minions walk in single file to hear the words that will save
them from damnation-
and down the road,
as deep forest meets,
a young man meets his destiny-
a single bullet chosen by his best friend
the boy he grew up with-
ate from the same plate
to deliver the message from those much higher in the chain of-
greed
wealth
and a self attested power
to a boy who only wanted what was rightfully his
but knew within his heart of hearts
he would never have

Death is

Death is a ceremony
it has its own song-
smell
ambience
it has its own colour
the darkest midnight,
without a solitary star to illuminate its path

Death has its own mystery-
no two are ever alike
both in the deliverance
and the acceptance
cowered
or arms outstretched
it never receives a welcome
or anything else

Death has its own greeting
its pledge's-many
it is the most well known
above all else-
death is the holy one

Leaves of a chestnut tree

Abandoned palaces of red brick-coarse cement
terracotta
homes of the fled-
when pestilence came it did not discriminate
when life failed-
dreams were shattered
what could have been became nothing
promises-
ties made to a land that was all theirs
born unto
but circumstance prevailed
and all that is left
are the fallen leaves
now gold-
rotten
of the chestnut trees

She rules with iron fist

She rules with iron fist
determination-
authority
but at night
when darkness cloaks the day
for a break
she ponders
and lets herself laugh-
be thankful of the life she has led-
alone
a mother hen to her own and others
she's watched them grow
and leave her nest-
insignificant places in the world
from afar, she's dreamed of them
she's seen hardship
life renewed fresh and beautiful-
this is her time until no more

All about the cash

Smell the money
in thick wads
all around the world they gather-
the glamorous
made up to the nines
exuding not the sweet smell of-
Prada or Chanel
but the dizzying smell of cash-
they walk,
head poised with an arrogant casualness
as people part
like Moses parted the sea-
the rich
this place of war
jealousy
caused by an insignificant piece of fabricated paper

Distances

Giddy-
while a piece of my heart remains stagnant
an everlasting gasp of breath
suspended in time-
for the time-that time,
that one day-
one day when I see your smiling face,
again
and time ticks over once more
picking up where we left off
in your embrace
where I feel whole-
content like myself
as if we'd never been apart

Just what I am

I am nothing but a solitary figure trying to get by
Hidden in the darkest shadows
This is how I like it-
I am nothing but a void in the earths population
I account for nothing-
To know one
This is how I want it
I am nothing but your biggest nightmare
The thing that makes you awaken with fright-
Hoping this will never be you
I am this
But-
You made me

Ice cream lickers

I counted them all
They fit on one hand-
Soon though they came in packs
No longer could I count the with my fingers-
Or toes
They came bearing bundles of brightly coloured swatches
Gaudy mismatched colours that polluted the serenity of the moment
Voices loud inconsiderate and ignorant
They came laden with bottles-mistook this for a dingy drinking hole
They drank like they'd never had a drink before and once done they left-
Strewn and strayed
Dirty refuse
All for a single days pleasure

Feeling giddy

I'm chasing the lights-
For the first time
I'm seeing technicolor-
Feels good-
I could go all night
I'm singing like I've never sung
Songs I'm making up words for
Don't care who's listening
I'm just thankful to be alive-
Today's my day
Watch me dance
Feeling giddy-
No one's going to bring me down
This is it
Dancing in colour
Chasing lights
I'm not dreaming
I'm not
Cause this is it for me now

Red dust

I'm on the outskirts-
Red dust never settles
Frenzied dance
That covers everything
War paint
But there's no war here
Only a harsh life-
No swollen egos
Comraderie
And mateship-
Friends til the end
Forgotten land
But this is home

Mother

Dear mother,
I'd like to take the time
And thank you for all those times I didn't
Or couldn't
Wouldn't-
Ostinentatiousness
Arrogance
Defiance was my mantra
But times have changed-
I've grown
Come to realise you were right
I-wrong
Always
I appreciate your words more now
Your opinions
Your guidance-
It's never to late
So
I thank you
Things change when you're raising your own-
You change
Suddenly everything is different-
But then, you said that too
Didn't you?

Common things

She was fourteen
A child but they did not see it that way
Married her off-
A large family
No money
It was the normal thing to do-
Shipped her off with a glory box of linen and broken dreams
He was older-
Wise and experienced
Only married her because they told him too
Took her from one forgotten land to another
She stopped dreaming
Forgot from where she'd come from
There was no point thinking of what was gone
Bore him a child,
Nearly killed her-
He didn't care
Not for her
Not for the child
He wanted a boy
Two years on
She looked more like an old woman than a child of sixteen
She had a baby-
A boy
He was discontented
The boy was not right
Belted her to prove it was her fault
She bore him no more children-
The days passed
He disappeared
The little girl was no longer-
This is her story
Sad
But true

Sounds

These are the sounds-
The deafening silence after a vicious argument
Uncomfortable
Irresistible
Maddening silence-
That makes you question your motives
What were you hoping to achieve
Really-
This is the sound of death-
A guttural animal sound
A wail that goes on through the night
Piercing walls
The air
With anguish
A pain you cannot live with
This is the sound of living-
Laughter
Hysterical
And continuous
Breathlessness and the need to pee
This is the sound
These are the sounds-
Listen

A writer's life

He sits at an old chipped desk-
A many-splendered coloured desk
Meridian time
Yet he works tirelessly
Sweaty
Airless
The fan in the corner remains still
His mind overloaded works fast
His fingers are not
Pencil blunt he digs harder onto the paper
Indentation of yesterday's words
And those of the day before
He poises mid thought
Parched
After this page he'll get himself a glass of water
Maybe make himself a sandwich
He's sure there's a roast in the fridge
Perhaps even some Swiss cheese-
He continues to write
The page flows into another
And then into another
The witching hour-
He lights his desk lamp
Poises
Parched-
He'll stop at the next page
Surely

A true love story

She was old
But he was older-
Speckled flecks
Peppered grey-
Lines
Story lines he liked to call them
But no one ever had the time to listen
Just her-
Heard them all a million times before
She still laughed when the funny bits came-
Still wiped the tears when it all got to much
She was sick-
He sicker
He'd nurse her nights when her temperature rose
She'd hold his hand when the pain got too much too bear
They lived alone-
Kids forgot
They tried
Never gave up-
Though never talked about it
She was old
He was older-
And when she went
He soon followed

Requited

This is how it goes-
One day
There was a man who fell in love
But she loved another
And so it went for years and years-
He never stopped pining
He never married-
Wished her a long and happy life at her wedding
Then drowned his sorrows when no one watched
Bid her good morning every day
And gave his condolences the day her husband passed-
Silently smiling
It was time
She welcomed him the first time-
He bought flowers for her the second
Asked him to stay for dinner the third
And by the fifth she realised-
She loved him-
Asked him to stay the sixth, the seventh-
And for every day after
This is how it goes...

I'm a big girl now

I'm not afraid of anything
Thanks to you
Not anymore
Not of the dark
Not of the unknown
Or of the bogey man-
You were my bogey man
A nightmare come true
Brought me to my knees
Made me weak
Until I had nothing left
But that girl's gone-
She left the other night
Woke up to someone new
I saw her in the mirror
She looked the same-
But not really
I'm not holding anyone's hand
Or sleeping with a night light
Rosary beads
Garlic
Or teddy bear
I'm a big girl now-
I'm not afraid
Cause
I say so

A solitary army

And what of it-
So I can't change the world
But I can change my role in it
I can take what's in my hands and mould it
Care for it and make it something worthwhile
Put it back into the world and be proud
So, I can't change someone's life
But I can do something unexpected
Unplanned and nice-
Make them smile, even if only for a while
No, I can't heal the sick
Though I can lend them a hand and show them that I care
No, I can't perform miracles but I can surprise someone with one act of kindness-
What of it
I can't do many things
But I sure can try to do something

Bound by shackles

My father once told me-
Treat all people fairly
Though, the ones that I say so
Treat even more fairly
I was young
Not entirely sure of what this meant
My father said
You can't treat people rudely-
It's not nice,
Except of course-
The old man with no teeth
He's not from around here and well, I just don't trust him-
Okay, Papa
My father was a fair man
He'd share the tobacco he grew in the paddocks with all the men that helped worked our land-
They'd drink and smoke until the sun went down-
Laughing
And the next morning if they didn't show up in time for work, he'd send them on a holiday-
They obviously needed one, my father would say
We'd never see them again-
My father was a fair man
Though when they came with shackles to take him away-
He went quietly

Dromana shore

He walks the sand alone-
Stops suddenly, stoops every so often
A gem-
Older than time itself
Battered by water, sand and weather
But still a beauty
A house long outgrown-
Grey, pearl-like
He walks some more
Flicks his toe
Not any will do
It has to be just right
This one shaped like a fan
Rust, copper a hint of white
Nature in its finest moment