goodbye and hello sea

…goodbye and hello sea…

I’ve come where I have gone, a long time ago,

Seems like yesterday of yesteryear, when I was but here,

Walking, dreaming of sleeping in better times,

This was – is – home, but never felt further,

Always I sought something, a far thing,

Either from fading childhood,

Or from an uncertain adulthood,

From there – here – I look, watch, what was over here,

These streets seem wider, emptier,

But filled with something else the eye can’t see,

I feel the memories like the history of ghosts,

I’ve died here before, in so many ways,

There are too many gaps here, like an unfinished artwork,

Too many incomplete strokes, too little emphasis,

But the newbies continue,

They drink from the same gutters,

Coloured differently: faded colours; changed signage,

It’s been something else, this place,

To me at least…

I’ve tasted relationships in an unhurried youth,

I served my time, watched from behind layers,

Boxed in my thoughts, I know that I fought,

For here I go now, like I never was here,

Here I turn my back like I never knew,

Anything like home, I can’t believe,

It’s been a beautiful journey, the winds have cried,

My words have flown,

My hands have touched,

My laughs have burst,

My imprint remains,

Always in my memories,

Gone for eternities…

the long white road

…the long white road pulls me,

An ogre hand of gravity,

I tilt like a withered petal,

My questions are upended…


…it sucks on my ink,

The journey leaves no prints,

But the white road demands more,

Death splatter off the shoulder…


…hazards abound, jaws rattle through the night,

The wick from a black candle,

Guides on the long white road,

Danger: endless bends…


…the road goes on and on,

All white and no shadows,

All life and no phantoms,

No: broken creatures are welcome…


…express through ritual,

Lost with no weather report, the clouds,

Hug my imagination chewing on engines,

Write through the long white road…


…enter and keep going,

There’s no traffic in a congested cupboard,

Full of skeletons: roadworks,

Detour, turn the page, to the next long white road…

The Struggle

A great mass of voices,

Connected in heart and mind,

Crying for free choices,

Why can’t they decide?

Gathered as one against state forces,

Leaders of the young fighting just causes,

Enemies in uniform, fathers killing children,

Is this why they are born?

Is this nation building?

The questions travel through time, line after line,

Why must I learn in your language when you don’t speak mine?

A chorus of God Save the Nation rises to the heavens,

Bullets sing through the air and create roses with perfect petals,

That drip to the dirt,

Mixing with the earth,

But never really quenching her thirst,

Black polished school shoes beat a cloud of dust,

Some hands hold dustbin lid shields, others throw stones,

Child soldiers with cloth face masks,

Acting without their parents, suddenly becoming old,

Through the teargas storm their path is paved with bones,

They reach for the future, for the future is theirs,

In their hands and in the shade of state capture,

What’s education when nobody cares?

Where are the leaders of iconic stature?

Imprisoned for years by oppressive expectations,

They will pay their own price,

When corruption, discrimination and inequality are inherited,

Who will seek good advice?

If it comes from the youth, then nobody is hearing it…