SLAVOJ FEARS
Slavoj fears
the prospect of Elon
drilling deep into
our brains
like we are all
a Witwatersrand goldmine
sticking us
with a tiny chip
does everything
portal to Heaven
teeny tiny
quantum clever
but titanic screen and
monumental keyboard
who knows what tune
the future will play, how
will dance
to how we are played
CATHEDRAL
sorry!
just a
slip of
the tongue
was just
imagining myself
a mamba
and
the wrong
word flickered
wanted to
was of
a mind to
say
“is it”
what came
out
what I ended up
saying
sounded like
“Zizek”
such a sublime little
slip
fork
in the road, twist
of
breath
and the hovel
of my art
rising out
of its
foundations
becomes thing
long suppressed
other
than
itself
thinking of, naming,
seeing
itself as
thing now
descending, shape
in the clouds
maybe cloud to you
but to me
some
kind of
cathedral
SHOSHONE
you were so in
need of the fruit
from the tree of antithesis
when I came upon you
arrived on the scene
slithered amongst you
rattling my
tail off to wake
you up
not much hope there
popping gobstopper-sized
pills to kill
your anxiety
already
you can see what
it has done to
your internal rhyme
scheme and system
pretty much shot to Hell
last to say this, for
obvious reasons, but
right now,
at this juncture, need
to stand
outside yourself, commit
to alterity, flick
switch to at least
semi-
Slavoj
dialectic might be just
a pipe dream
but what better
pipe
conduit to great
spirit do we
full Shoshone have?
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
AT THE CHATEAU OF TOGETHER
“There are open spaces in
Shakespeare”. Slavoj Zizek
I was happy to
meet you at
the chateau
of together
not at the Winter Palace
or haunted Elsinore
we
were both so happy
but so, so distracted
we cuddled pathetically
and I remembered
telling you
one of those astute
brainteasing jokes
of the amicable Slavoj
whose humour and
critique of power
I found myself, yet again,
struggling
to explain.
poems 2 die for