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

Just thought I should fill you all in on some of the books I’ve read recently:

A Short History of Nearly Everything - Bill Bryson
A Really good introduction to the history of science. I especially enjoyed his anecdotes about how people we idealise because of their role in science are so damn whacky. Really liked the story of how the Yellowstone Park Volcano was found. It is comically written in parts and includes many interesting commentaries of how he met some of those scientists who are still alive (i.e. not Newton et al). Good book, 8/10.

Freakonomics - Steve Levitt and Stephen J. Dubner
Written by a recent winner of the John Bates Medal (an Economics award for the best Economist under 40) and a journalist for the New York Times this delves into interesting new approaches that Levitt has for economics, hence the title. This is a really good layman’s introduction to what economics is all about – a return to trying to understand what incentives really are and how people respond to things which manipulate incentives and hence behaviour. He makes important reference to problems of modern economics, law and social norms. Was the drastic reduction in the US crime rate as a result of the legalisation of abortion in the 70s? Does education legislation incentivise cheating by teachers? How feasible is it to ask people to voluntarily pay for things? The only thing that this book suffers from is an occasional aggrandisement of Levitt by
This book deserves its rating purely because of the ideas that Levitt has and the new ways that he deals with old issues. 9/10.

Mukiwa - Peter Godwin
This is a memoir of a Zimbabwean white man who fought in the Rhodesian war. It recalls what it was like being white and growing up on a farm in eastern Zim. It shows how being political but trying to survive are very difficult things to reconcile. Although Godwin became more and more political as time passed and he basically lived in exile, and he portrayed how awful the ZANU government was in its dealings with the purges in Matabeleland, Godwin did not portray accurately enough how violent the Smith government was. Note that this is simply in my opinion. This side has been portrayed by others. The book is good because it portrays the paradox of being white in Africa. Believing you are African, but others believing you are not. Does race place us on the side of an irreconcileable barrier? I don’t know, but it is a good read, a suitable memoir, and a good introduction to the beauty and ugliness of Zim. 7/10.

Surely You’re Joking Mr. Feynman - Richard Feynman.
This is another non-fiction book. It’s an autobiographical work (one in a series) written by Richard Feynman, the Nobel Physicist. Although, he hated being classified as a Nobel Winner, his genius is conveyed on every page on the book, from his frenetic discussions of repairing radios to his portrayals of cultivating hallucinations. He goes into everything from his experiences of Japanese language and culture to his ability as a ‘code cracker’. You cannot help but be astounded by the brilliance and the comedy of the man. I cannot help but recommend this book. 9/10.



Chainfire - Terry Goodkind
This is the 8th (I think) book in the acclaimed Sword of Truth series. The thing about Terry Goodkind is that he comes up with incredibly good ideas in a fantasy environment, innovative concepts for dealing with magic and how people and magic interact. His dealings with the phenomenon of prophecy are also interesting and fun. The idea that forms the backbone of this book is that somehow someone has unleashed a massively effective spell that has forced everyone to forget his wife the Mother Confessor, Kahlan Amnell. The problem is that Richard is the only person to remember her. Everyone thinks Richard is mad, he believes he isn’t, etc. The book reveals how this forgetting has come about. The problem with Goodkind is his verbosity. Although the ideas are really fun and interesting, wading through verbose and almost arresting dialogue and sentimental dealings with self-doubt can become problematic at best and a reason to put the book down at worst. The book also ends with a serious ‘to be continued’. It’s a good book for the ideas, but Goodkind really needs to learn how to write more eloquently and to learn when to edit and abbreviate what he is writing. 5/10.

Things Fall Apart - Chinua Achebe
This, his first book, displays the ways in which a new writer is trying to come to reconcile his own background and the life and context in which he now lives. This was obviously a landmark book as far as African literature is concerned, delving into Nigerian tribal custom and the unique perspectives of a man within in that context trying to struggle against the advances of the culture of White Europe on his own. Okonkwo, the protagonist, is an ambitious, troubled character trying to overcome the shadows of his father’s laziness and lack of ambition. It is forcefully written, and I can see why he was lauded for what he has done. The problem for me arises in the intricacies of writing and literature, I don’t find this book at all intricate, but it definitely serves a purpose and was one of the better written works portraying the clash of African and European culture. 7/10.

The following are several recent poems. You’ll notice that when I decided not to title some of them then they are numbered. There is an ordering – they have been given prime numbers. Some will be missing, but hey, you don’t get to read all of them.

Seasonal love 07.06.05

Wet-trampled leaves, my
lovestumbling cushions

Impregnated by raindrops
I am weighty

falling onto once-hard
soft leaves



2. 08.06.05

caught in
this malaise:
loneliness

it is a crack
in which there is
nothing but darkness
the inescapability
of deep rents in the earth

lightly, if only a star would
appear, some
motivation to heal


3. 08.06.05

pilgrimages have become
broekn simbils
no longer building
nor restoring Faith

yet i attempt this
down pot-holed urban
roads to trace some path
back to restore me

little Faith do I have in my
ability to walk
crawling or pulling myself
along on bruised hands would

be more honest if
nothing else this broken
pilgrimage should attempt
some form of honesty



7. 09.06.05

Kneeling, I have cast
my dappled sorrow
at your feet

ignored, dew clings to it
and moss inveigles its
way in: enlivening

the contrasts even more.
I wait for one of
your footprints to

mark it and, so doing,
take possession of
its dank pain.


11. 11.06.05

I have seen
a mother
trying not to cry:
my words, I deem,
insufficient
to capture
the moment of that
pain
yet…

her fingers clasping a
breaking cigarette
filtering the air

charred proteas lying in
the damp ash of
winter fires

My Ex-flatmate, Kate (she's gone to Aus)
New Photo from Si

Clear winter 06.06.05

The sky was
raucous clear today
sounds carried
too far

had I heard
your voice, I
may have thought
it pertinent

to scream
both the sky, and you,
would have heard
its insistence

Memorised passages 30.05.05

the morning has every memory
etched into the soil, bark and brick
of each and every begun day

the night cannot help but recall
the howling winds, laughters and
joyous screams that she held

the day is the place in which
I feel memory is often lost
it mourns its quotidian nature. I

have left flowered wreaths at the
noon of each day to display my affections
for those escaped facts, lost and dead

among the multitude of days,
memorised passages of people
continuously forgotten.



A gap in nature 30.05.05

Crescent-shaped is
my remorse
at not having demanded
more of you,
it can only reach so high
before coming
down once more
it is these depths with which I am more
familiar


Moment-ous, 24.05.05

the realisation
I gave power
to you, to
the memory of you

there you hobble
around ranting
I stare at
these recollections

constructed ideas
of who and what you harmed
I wear that shadow
it hinged onto my

feet when you died
I feel its weight
trying to pull me into it
questioning my resistance.


Elle m’a dit “jamais” 17.05.05

To contemplate neverness
I sit here and attempt
its intricacies

but this dramatic winter
with its bellicose rain
and clouds that quarrel

above me, inspires something
beyond contemplation
for which I am unsure of

my capability


Calibration 14.05.05

I cannot
begin to fathom
the ways in which
you think

such depths are
too womanly,
I am unequipped
yet remain willing

this possible sufficiency
is several times daunting
chance may lead me
to turn and face it

Atu(-d2*) and Sipho (*I apologise for the bad star wars joke)
New Photo from Si

Vengeance will be mine...
New Photo from Si

Matthew said Dad first?
New Photo from Si

Smoke gets in your (sigma) i's
New Photo from Si

Shake it like a polaroid picture
New Photo from Si

Cunning Matt, Cunning...
New Photo from Si

I have told a couple of people to take a look at this who don't know that they can actually add posts to my blog and comment. Isn't that great. Incidentally I'll also be trying to put up a couple more photos of more recent events to please each and every one of you!

In other news, Macro is a bitch and I really don't feel like doing the tut! Damn tuts!

Bran and Kitten
New Photo from Si

Nicky
New Photo from Si

Angular James
New Photo from Si

James at a glance
New Photo from Si

Jon and Kate
New Photo from Si

The Ladies of Budock + 1
New Photo from Si

Si and Kez (NY)
New Photo from Si

Kez and Gail
New Photo from Si