Economics, Literature and Scepticism

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I am a PhD student in Economics. I am originally from South Africa and plan to return there after my PhD. I completed my M. Comm in Economics and my MA In Creative Writing (Poetry) at the University of Cape Town, where I worked as a lecturer before starting my PhD.

Sunday, October 23, 2005

I was SOOO busy last night

Posted by Simon Halliday | Sunday, October 23, 2005 | Category: |

A tapestry of shoes 23.10.05


The structure of

completion

is a frayed collection

of threads


and it is the frays

where severances

hurt and where

they retie newborn


offshoots of hemp,

roughed off

of their own accord

but tied tighter


than old shoelaces

burnt with selotape

and holding together

rubber and the soul -


i am molded to

you in this old shoe way

scared of discard

or tempted by it


Polemic 23.10.05


it is the fuck-with-you

way with complete disregard

for anything I say or do

that says it


if this were a record of

samples, with a hip-hop

beat sliding between

them, it would yet


crave meaning, But

these words, these

linked-tight hardfast

daft yet credible


Words are what make

this, This believable

and all i do is stand

in a red t-shirt


banner in hand with

a hoarse voice and

a look of (hurt by lack of

remorse) incredulity


that changes nothing,

no thousand words

in a photo, but

a thousand unloosed


tongues with no more

voice than a woman before

Herod and even more

screaming babies dying


as i wear a red t-shirt

(it wasn't red before)

and a banner limp

(with tears repressed)


if only the wind would

shriek to steal the air

that rips from their

throats the dirge of the dead


the speedbumps are

graves as i walk, unflowered

and graveled and potholed

for the lack of digable


soil to cover up the lost


Road 23.10.05


I would be gracious

were I yet prepared to

thank you


but that is the

dark backroad that

betweens us


left open to wound

down windows

and heart-blown


kisses goodnight

(I'd rather not it's

easier to fight)


Carving tree 23.10.05


I can still see green in

the moonlight of

oak leaves


shrouding the moon

painting pointed patterns

over memories


they are sharp aren't

they when you pick

them up


enough to make an

acorn worth planting

for my intents

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