So I realised that I hadn't put poetry up in a while, actually about a month. So here's some of my more recent scrivings.

Something honest 14.06.05

“Tell me something true.”
“Lying is the most fun a girl can have with her clothes on.”
Larry and ‘Alice’ in Closer

I have my clothes on,
yet my animus spreads out
in the screaming tendrils
of all that can possibly be
honest

but do not claim, in your
piety
that honest is beautiful

we aren’t

neither is truth

many things aren’t truthful

rain clambering down the sides of
trees, or settling into
the leaves and petals of roses

so many wet faces and eyelids
of milling people in the street

blinking
you confuse my tears
with rain

neither of which are honest
both of which are beautiful


13. 14.06.05

Intractable
each and every facet
of the variegated shadows

oakleaves
on my tight-hair pulled
facial skin

Your hands pulling
backwards on my face,
depressed fingerprints

in new soil, dappled in
the ground, speckled
replicas of birth

17. 14.06.05

in this time of mazes
where me sits
on a blank carved
fountain right-in-the-middle

(at least its seeming is
the middle of some(thing))

of what should be a maze
grace me with touches
of your eyelashes i equally
lost as me without

the idea of mid(mid)dle
to comfort marble unsolid

middling is my understanding
of always turning left, when
there is no left when I am lost
in your opaque irises

they mist preventing my senses
exploring outside (you)



19. 17.06.05

skin flakes off
there is no more
left of me than the
stars that

make up my atoms
in this instant
cremation
carbon (I was) based

there is no reason
for this impassioned
non-existence
the release of

energy was the cultic
reason, there are flecks
of me remaining
I expect


23. 17.06.05

Palindromes, perfect
reflection symmetry
of inhumanity

my face cannot echo
that idealisation
it is overwrought

habits of frowns
and one-sided smiles
there - one place

in which I feel I reflect
I complete some
space, I echo that

which is in you
let me send it back
this palindromic

relationship is complete
momentarily centred
polar


29. 17.06.05

Automaton
such god-pious
hands wrought me
prime-perfect
impervious
(to what I remain
Unsure)

These hands clay
they may seem
glazed and burnt
in places, patched
pathetic. A grip
tentative and shirking
its dutiful perfection

that which binds me,
makes me real
and not of the me-
commanded-dreamscape
nor of your fantasies
but of this acid reality
calmly caustic

in each and every intent
manufactured by
thousands of hands -
my construction
yet I remain
perceived-perfect
godly?


There is no excuse 20.06.05

for your beauty, it
simply is
it doesn’t have
a Reason, nor Meaning
nor Motivation
it is
simply fact

(not cold though,
nor ever hard)

it is inexcusable
in the way that rain
is, making me wet
when I am where
it is


31. 20.06.05

I do not understand Christians
who try to offer proof
of God’s existence

proof that God existed
would contravene the need
for Faith, He would be fact

a fact (by its nature) does
not require Faith

it is necessary to consider
though that Faith and Logic

are both beautiful and
honest simply choosing one
gives us an idea of God

what could be better
than an idea, or a concept
that makes God real


37. 23.06.05

I would not, had I
known, slumbered well;
there was a paucity
of shape in it
such a lacking of breath
and out-fled mouth-mists

It was dry, the
flowers forlorn,
lay rotten forgotten
much as you
did:


41. 24.06.05

Grey dustontrolleywheels
floors
mirror nothing as

[wishing for an extra moment
when my back is not
turned in case I miss
a final glance this way]

good

godforsaken glass windows
allowing me to see your attempts
to stride away

you [but succeed only
in] trying


43. 25.06.05

poverty my friend
i [small as i am]
clutch all You
to tightly ;i; me
only through this [in[it[macy]
can sadzanenyama,
sampnbeans or porridge
clear these thoughts
contagious
yet incommunicable
and under this line or that
i am still poor and small
and not even unique


47. 25.06.05

the foot of an
ant slowly crawling
over you in your sleep

knowing you for such
slow moments

height lacks meaning

it is purely the textures
and the beat of you
leading me in a direction
when there isn’t one

everywhere is the direction


53. 25.06.05

clambering off of this bed
notes falling off of
a page of music
most of them staccato and
part of a minor


imagism 25.06.05

i observe this
possibly you
or this

“SPACE”

in
which you are

it has
[tail swallowing snake]
Moment

captured picture imperfect
less than a1000words
telling

but petals
scattered by metro
trains clean

meaning


59. 29.06.05

sinister
these clutchingly acute
complaints deriding
existence (not Platonic or godly)
but scientific truth –
H(ysteresis) I(n) V(acuity)

in denial power is claimed
for them, for this
debilitation

society (they say) is at fault
as is poverty
but do not claim that
it might be
biologic verity

as it strengthens
as sex is given potency
and blood, its inevitable
fear casting its amorous
shades over all who would
hear, spills over

I digest them: the fears

but cough up the phlegm
and mucus of its arrogance
A(ltered) I(nstincts) D(estabilise) S(ociety)

too soon am I hooded
and prepared for execution
condom-thick was my
mistake, but theirs is the black
cowl of a death sentence
in a free country


61. 29.06.05

“No, I am not gay, neither have I ‘used’, why do you ask?”

shattered these pieces of time
sloggingly I try to collect them
reassembling them to try to re-identify
this moment, to assess why it broke

there It is, contained in the blood
of it - the humours of me, blackened,
but its opaqueness carries clarity
and there the moment of impact

still you would like me to be a minority
some unpeopled other to whom you
cannot relate. I am all to close, that
is why you deny and would repress me.


67. 13.07.05

so He stands there in a black-white
suit declaring ‘freedom and fairness’

these political silences and
declarations of agreement do
nothing to assuage my cravings –

my burnt down house is not free
nor are electrodes on my mboro fair.

my cravings for extroversion live
unfulfilled lives

there are no manically dancing
denouncers, nor sufficient parades
in the street

I have memories of murdered fathers
of acid-burns – her black breasts pink-pale
unable to suckle her child.

why is there toyi-toyi against him in the street,
but never in the parliament?
why are we in the only to denounce, and they agree
in their tacitly colluding silences?

He is no madala, no umfwethu!

No wise man, no avuncular grandfather
and yes I care and yes I crave intervention
and yes I will scream till action is taken

but I have little faith that a one of them will
care, Rwandan-scorned I look upon
the Ruins of Zimbabwe and lament.

an epitaph: here lies the neglected civilization
of a man fallen, another Lucifer in the fall
that has been Africa before the dawn
that would never come


reclamation 16.07.05

insistent is this
fractious reality
impinging on each and every
edge of me

your breasts flush against
skin, the heat of you this
insistence disturbs
my professed borders

the horizon of your aureoles
are beyond the sights and sounds
of this hybrid hereness
you and what is left of me

these coarse hairs are barely
protection for me, yet our
mutual invasion proceeds
unresisted the requital estranged


hallowed hermeneutics 17.07.05

some would claim my
actions execrable
a carving out of
words from the page

to interpret the meaning
of the women I’ve known
to place them sacredly on
these pages

they see it as
immortalisation
that act saved for gods
and the devout

they do not realise my
devotion is that which makes
them real – holy, this
sacred truth

of the female form
and I merely the vessel
carving the darknesses
out of the page

that which makes them a word
that making them true