Commonword Blogs

He always used to wear those yellow workboots.
Their bright hue now faded and worn, yet sturdy.
The chatter they made as he walked a familiar sound.
Teamed with light blue combat jeans, a perfect fusion.

He had a smile on his face as he walked in them,
Like they were old friends, companions on his journey.

They never squeaked or creaked with age,
Instead, their movements grew more graceful as they aged.
He must have walked millions of steps in them.
Seemingly more confident with each sleek movement.

The last time I saw them, they were ancient yet sprightly,

Four women- side by side,
cycling

Their kinship cemented - like the
spokes on their bicycles.

Pedalling; against the cold chilly
air

skin fair, perfectly powdered
hair thick and strong.

Sisters, swapping stories from
their day: Then they spilt -

wheels turn different directions

Four women say goodnight
as the moon turns in.

The Piano Has To Be Pushed Aside (Black Panther Exhibition. Funeral of ...)

The piano has to be pushed aside
The windows should be open: on
A hot day the most effective minds are cool.

Guns should be on display, loaded:
Death is with us. We embrace life,
But we are not afraid of death.

Have the hymn books ready but programme
No mournful tunes, none of that shit.
I want a wake-up ceremony, not a go-to-sleep one.

Lets mike this space up, people gonna be
Coming from far, there’ll be numbers
Make sure there’s trays for the water.

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Where Your Commonword Blogs Go

The Goodbye Party
Based on ‘Where we are’ by Stephen Dobyns

Shaking a glass ball - a man
stares into the scene, as snow
falls onto plastic figures

Dipping her chips into the blob of mayonnaise
A woman bites down; white liquid oozes
through the gaps of her teeth

Knobbly elbows and stooped shoulders
lean in

Table legs wobble, white knuckles
grasp jugs of beer

Hands waft waitresses’, between sips
and slurps of drinks

Shiny paper, flung to the floor: Crushed
under careless feet

Big orange lamp swings, it’s long
plaited chain rattles the glass

Waiting, anticipating,
The spark of innovation
Ignites once more.
I'm still here, still holdin' on
To dreams of better days,
Spurred on by the promise
Once made to me.

I'm not going to fall,
In fact, I begin my rise,
I soar higher than ever before.

It was worth the heartache,
Tantrums and tears.
I never lost myself
In momentary afflictions
Sweeping over my psyche
At high speed.

There isn't a lot more to say,
Except I feel revived,
My time will come.
It edges closer each second.

I'm not going to break up
Or shake up feelings of unrest
By being bitter.

Emptiness surrounds me.
The life deserted, strangled
Of the very core of its being.
There is no sound.
Like an old black and white movie,
I'm waiting for the captions.

I'm still on duty, yet there is nothing to guard.
I have no purpose any more.
What you may not realise is that I have lost too.

Here I am, following orders set by a country that hates me.
I want to rebel, but if I do, I'll be killed.
I want to hold on to what little bit of life I have left.
My father, mother and younger brother all casualties
In this clash of wills.

I'm poised on the flats opposite me,

through the kiss | i watched her song in the mirror.
the notes dwelt, arms outstretched : a man with blue,
seeping eyes.

her voice fluttered and hissed while she swayed,
fluttered and hissed like a tape : i recalled
that johannesburg night, the smoke chanted jazz club,
the audience drowsy, wild bees toying with
the idea of love.

and her beautiful. i watched the end of my cigarette,
the smoke twisting as it fell into space, frayed
ends of blond hair.

and her words faded. i turned to the white woman
at the bar next to me - we let the first kiss, her arm static

There are no crumbs, no bed to trace
Where your body once rested

There is a space in my apartment

No one to pour me tea, two lumps
Half a cup

Bathroom turned back to normal
No water to mop up

My yoga mat sits in the corner: Lonely, like a sheep on
Barren land

My walls weep: Missing your dangly feet and outstretched hands

My sides no longer ache, from sillies and laughter
Your recitals’ of dreams and of happy ever after

There is a space in my apartment.

Your voice singing the blues: Lingers, like the towel you left draped
Over the living room door -

Shadows

Your mother, is she proud,
That her son can charge through my
Living room, making my children wet themselves?
They watch you, nails digging into my flesh
You didn’t bring kerosene, nan, or pani.
Only the dust that swirls off your boots.

Always stood out from any crowd,
I know not why Providence blessed me as such.
Never wanting my individuality cast under a shroud,
My essential nature, pure to the touch.

Was diagnosed with hydrocephalus in my very early youth,
Enlarged skull a permanent reminder of who I really am,
Spent so many years living in the shadows of untruth,
I fight it, no longer wishing to endure this mindless sham.

Sometimes I wonder why God chose me,
A 1 in 2500 chance isn't all that rare,
The ignorant hordes simply refuse to let me be,
Just try and crush my spirit - IF YOU DARE!

I want things to change
Re-arrange this mans game
These are ya sista's lets all stop calling names,
Were all bitches according to stupid rap, personally I think that's wack!
Gullible kids staying behind the lines
Dictated to by shameless minds, mixed up in matrix plans
Laddies still holding the pans
Kids confused by these crazy roll modals,
everyone beating down on each other,
come on, reach out brother,
there is a teacher, we got more to discover.
Even the president needs to fix up, yeah you big bucks!
An eye for an eye, every bodies blind

Warm skin
Clear as glass
Breaths even and regular
Hair intricately curled
Like strings around tuning pegs
Laughter capturing a youth never lost.

Smile of sincerity
Voice of comfort
Into the parameters
Of existence
I came
And you
Nurtured me.
Purity of spirit
Uncluttered mind
An independence unprecedented.

Heroine of my being
I am your blood
Conversations are sweet
In your esteemed presence.
You are open
To the revelations
Of the universe.

The substance
And purpose
In our relationship
Will never die.
I've always known this
And I say it loud

There was something he always wanted but never found.
His eyes in search of solutions but they only found problems.
He was just a boy, yet longed to be a man.
The connective light he sought was never found.

Father had eyes of granite, hard and incendiary,
Each time their visions combined, pain followed.
Father ached as son crumbled over tears of fire.
Son longed to open up, words never came.

Torn apart by circumstance, pride and tragedy.
Each night both would curl up around their insecurities.
Inner conflicts consumed their substance.
Neither spoke much, they didn't know how.

The mechanisms of this machine don't always make sense.
They are quiet, unassuming and hopeful.
You can see your dreams and escape your nightmares.
It is a busy machine, the parts well maintained.

Innovations for the future can be found here.
The courage to endure multitudes of pain lies here.
If it ever breaks down, we are lost.
Like a circuit board, every component has a vital function.

The solitude you seek can be nourished here.
It is like a computer, but much more powerful.
We need it to do all the things we don't notice.
We sometimes take it for granted, to our cost.

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