Archive for August, 2017

You ask me how I write.


and free.

A gift from God,


A passion…

I listen to the voice within,

sometimes it sings.





So, how are we to play?

Remembering the passage of time:


and lost,

flow and stagnation,

obscured reflection,

water in a dirty ditch.

The Chess set has fairly nice pieces,

but the board is so worn,

and I can’t forgive the missing pawn.




I was in a good place

until around you came,

with your crappy chess set,

making me play your game.




Too stark, she says,

this thing we have done,

contrasting bad and good,

replacing wrong with “right”…

revolutions and intentions.

Pause, reflect,

so much lost,

a relative black hole.

Indeed, we need to ameliorate,

find appropriate red paint,

restore our fate.

… Is it possible?





Wave of futility sweeps over me…

Kalahari iceberg melts,

washes my dreams away.




Sport is a rort, these days.

If you wanna make it work

you have to play the game,

smile ambiguously,

entertain …

TV interview …

… Say the right things, at the right time,

in the appropriate sickly sweet voice,

and you’re in.

… You win!

Alas, shame I don’t speak American…

… Lingua Franca,

and discarded morality…

We dance for Dollars

and cents.




Shut the doors and windows,

Turn the TV off.

People confuse and distract,

like cataracts.

Silence child,

Listen within,

search wisdom,


Your destiny awaits!




Something beautiful,

or at least I thought it was,

and/or wanted it to be.

Now tarnished,

sullied with hurt and pain.

Communication breakdown.




It is.

It was.

And it is gone.





Gift of Life,

from God Almighty,




and rejoice

through your inner tears,

you exist! …

Celebrate, the ultimate:

you were born …

Happy Birthday, indeed.