Tag Archives: humanity

STRINGS

STRINGS truth beauty the puppet moves, speaks I pull a few strings not my usual bag to first cause anything but when it talked slanted, funny, out of the side of its mouth I bore a hole through its wooden brain put a shot through its temple when I peepd through the hole not exactly suffused in wisdom or, since you request it, resonant with your symbolism guidimg to the light the overwhelming light

HERE


HERE

it was not a great play

the Danish constabulary
arresting Hamlet’s
uncle
    in the final
scene

bringing him to justice
full force of the law

warm
    inside we felt
but harrowing catharsis
was what we
paid for

nothing quite like the blood
soaked stage
       that marks the escalation
to biblical proportions

full geometric progression
that marks the fulfiment
of desired revenge

likewise
      love restored
Othello and Desdemona
working on jealousy and
self image
    in partners’ therapy

or Dionysus giving Pentheus
a book to read
      about his divinity help
this stupid
  fascistic king

better understand
         the god of ecstasy’s ultimate
terrible kindness,
beautiful power
     (Nietzsche’s The Birth
of Tragedy
could do this well)

but
    none of these cut it
none make the cut
          regarding what
we need.

the hours spent in the theatre
must alter time, change
our perception

bring us
      to the threshold of
apocalypse at the
                  insane spectacle

such as

          is in flood across

the airwaves
.
as is presented here

A WORD

A WORD

let me have a word

let me fill
you in
from a poetry

am going to need
twenty, maybe
thirty
thousand
characters already

oops1 sorry,
my apology

did I say
“characters”?

that was a bit
of a fatal Freudian slip

I meant to say “words”;
no sorry: lines

no I am completely wrong

in the wrong

to do this justice
I need to write
the final
death count
as poems

STORY

STORY

it’s your story
so stick to it

you need a good story
a whopper to turn

a blind eye
to all
this suffering

listen to those on
the screen who
carefully explain

see
how they attack you
when you can
no longer
believe

so much suffering
but suffering is transitory

we all
suffer

suffering is unreal

now we have
that out of the way
stick to your principles, be one
of the staunch
supporters
good
upright people

It’s your story
and you’re
sticking to it

how you
would suffer
if they took that away

OLD JOHANNESBURG

OLD JOHANNESBURG

waiting by the roadside
in old
       Johannesburg

maybe
     resurrection
will
     befall me

maybe redemption
will come my way

failing which
              perhaps

a circus or carnival will
come
     round the corner

sweep
    stubborn old ideologies
off the street

as serious joke or
perhaps just giggles

a parade of Zizeks
tumbling past me as if
Red Square
           comedy

where figures from the
Commedia del Arte
are here
       to replace tanks

look
   seriously at the world and
it suddenly goes
Toy Town

confirmation bias
on open display for
everyone to see

      fat
conspiracy here:
buses passing every few minutes
not stopping for everything
the drivers
             believe

waiting for the curtains to open

waiting for the means
transport a boardgame
           on my back

set
of lewd Cluedo
              for whomsoever might
wish
to join me

help me
to survive
life on a billiard sphere

hustling to get by
wanting to be Master
always
      a slave

waiting for the lights
to darken

have
lost the book
in which
I was made
        

****

after a
while

everything
slithers

snakes and
ladders

perhaps better to
devote time
to generating boardgames
rather than
squandering my existence
writing
    poetry or composing fiction

****

bumper to bumper stacked together
owe it to them

    to not close my eyes,
keep looking

or everything before me
will disappear

and this funeral procession
miss its target

some poor
exclusive dignitary

about to skip his rendezvous
with captivating tombstone
of proportions extreme

so much here
so mechanical

yet so many
vital nuts and bolts

****

bureaucracy
is horror

      bureaucracy
              is death

I sat with
Slavoj Zizek

through yet another sunset
telling jokes

about philosophers
telling jokes and
    the end of the Universe

(not that this necessarily
implies a causal connection)

today the lawyers
of old and new Johannesburg
are
   heading North
with a holy bone to pick.

I sat by the roadside
     play after play

oodles of
         words, scenes,
dialogue
                                even

             still in my head

ghosts of tales
still
     to be told

            (media marvels yet
to unfold)

old Johannesburg