notes on london

london bridge will not fall down
better girders and the such
at least not for a few hundred years
the arizona one is safe too

the bonny brits are a wee bit much like ourselves
scary
a welfare state though
and I really missed the homeless
and drug addicts
and beggars
mulling about the streets
but one can’t have everything homey on vacation

they love their glorious past
almost as much as their billboards
the ones that roll and flip
a different ad a second
tricky buggers

notes on south africa...continued

baboons are freaks
bands of detested gypsies
no wagons
no guitars
they are there own monkeys
on their own piggybacks
babes in tow
they choose which street to cross
and when
car and camera shy
maybe they just don’t give it away free
maybe they hide from the baboon patrol
maybe they are just being baboons
and that’s not tolerated

notes on south africa ...continued

hermanus

kelp beds
waves harsh and soft
white breasted cormorants
a possible mongoose
tracks of a lynx
best not be barefoot
scorpions fiddling about
wave crashings muffle everything
and so they should
yet security is formost
and it shouldn’t be
many skeleton keys
to doors with skeletons
bars on windows
and armed response alarms
a rogue leopard searches for poodles


hermanus…continued

the surf is loud
but not loud enough
Africa cries
very few hear
I want to leave the door open
But can’t
Critters, ya know


hermanus…continued

I’ve yet to see their art express anger and pain
is there still fear of reprisal?
they have yet to learn
how to piss at the wind
art is weaponry
art is armament
art is first strike
art is retaliation
it can be censored
it cannot be quelled
yet this release I cannot find
how do they vent their rage?
how can I vent mine?


hermanus…continued

the land is old
the people are generational fixed
the democracy is young and fragile
apartheid destroyed much
it anchored imbalance

south Africa strives for symmetry
but will trickle down rule
of all I see inequitable
are we any different?
who are we to judge?

the weakest component is still the weakest link
and still defines the limitations of true greatness
without symmetry too many doors are open
for strife

this exploitation is irresponsible behavior
for anyone who calls themselves
a leader

notes on south africa...continued

the road to hermanus

the contrast is stark
living conditions dismal and dark
miles of square miles
peppered with shanties
and they stand against the wind
but I don’t know how
they stand in the middle of nowhere
waiting on something
a ride
a job
no bus in sight
and when they arrive uniform clad
piling out of vans and pickups
the shoppers mull around them
and the locals segregate as usual
and when their time is up
they return to the pieces of scrap
they have nailed into homes
it is a long process toward freedom

notes on south africa ...continued

stellenbosch

we found some old friends
they were in familiar labeled bottles
we danced with them
reasonably restrained of course
this is the land of milk and honey
whites still own
blacks still file daily in multiple trucks
each clad in uniforms
denoting their particular contribution
the food being the freshest I’ve had
the people the most hospitable I’ve met
I could stay here and write a long time
with the fuel of contradiction fueling my pen



stellenbosch… continued

we met the marketers
they touted their beloved winemakers’ wares
we met French with pens
who give thumbs up or down
depending on____?
we are not sure
we met excessive over hyped golf induced juice
we were not impressed
we met another coastal road facing south
we were highly impressed

notes on south africa...continued

district 6

desolation of community
supposedly a nice little cleansing
fascism has its ways
to make someone feel good about it all


district 6... continued

I see
I feel
so I become ashamed
and I wasn’t even there
and I feel like a glutton
and I want to fast until it hurts
and that won’t be enough
and I am angry at myself
for all you had to endure
because I am here to see and feel
the beauty of your land
I hope I can transcend
I hope I can manifest
all this pain into the hope
and wonder that lies before you
but now I drink deep
to deaden the sharp jabs at my heart
and in the morning
I will relish the foul residuals
as my punishment
punishment for my sins against you
for I stood back and did nothing
and still do



district 6... continued

lost streets
lost lives
foolish fascists
didst thou think so little of these people
foolish fascists
your prisons weren’t big enough
and the word could not be silenced
by your patriotic psychotic
intimidations
oppressions
persecutions
tortures
foolish fascists
are you still lurking in the shadows?
we know you are
waiting to pounce?
we think not
for that is not your cup of tea
you slither and bait
you penetrate and twist
and turn until you can manipulate
unsuspecting souls you wish to control
but we no longer are unsuspecting
we know all your nooks and crannies
we keep a vigil eye
we will allow you to speak
to debate
for we are not like you
we are frontal
and you are backdoor
and that’s okay
for we have posted sentries
at both entrances
checking your id’s
of course, you may exit
anytime you like
no questions asked

notes on south africa... continued

but in the meantime...

we soon will be sipping the fruits of mother nature
soon penguins will be pilfering tidbits from our picnic blanket
soon baboons will be removing our windshield wipers
soon blooms will be wavering in the sea winds about our feet
somewhere in the midst of all that
I hope we giggle

notes on south africa

capetown after the fog

in this space
in this place
where oceans collide
and political factions attempt to un-faction
for agendas of rule and dominance
where newfound hopes and dreams
sprout amongst icons of past oppressions
where people of color
some much darker
some much lighter
try to forge a new reality
there lurks the true masters of the land

they pound their chests throughout the night
and into the morning
they leave droppings and residuals everywhere they perch
they care not of struggles for justice and fairness
they only want to make noise

these are not delicate songs of happiness
they are aggressive trumpet-ings of territorial lust
it makes sleep difficult
and I dream in and out of fiery beaks
and discarded plumes
and embattlements
and feathers drifting to earth
like snowflakes with no other purpose
but they were here first

dry spell

the pen has ink
the paper can absorb it
the mind has intent
the hand stands ready
nothing happens

money fer nuthin

today the blue chips gushed
because we bombed the little brown man
and the price of gold dipped
because our bombardment was technified
instead of him bombing us insurgently
for when one of us die by his hand
we think the sky is falling
and gold is good when the sky falls
and equities are nice when our mountains shine
and his is leveled

And a capitalist somewhere smiles