Wednesday, 22 January 2020

the mouthbow – a play




a player’s lament

bow put together. arrow put together. bow and arrow put together. bow, arrow and player brought together. plays. entranced… overwhelmed. remembers… flashes… starts to fill with painful memories… deep sadness... tears… plays it out… has to…

the melody returns… the tonal rhythm haunts, pays testimony to the vibrations felt… that fill space, the chamber of the skull, body. the bow remembers… the string ties past and present in the now… the player is afflicted… gripped, enchanted… increasingly strained by it, by the need to play out the full story… the ache, the pain… the player feels compelled to embrace the bow even if it means another plunge, another lunge… more pain, further than before… as the bow trembles… the player is compelled to feel… play, listen/speak, be it…

to memory
to remember
different tune…same visions
to out, to move on…
what was there
before – and – after
the laughter – and then the silence
the drought – and then the blood
the cries – and then the slaughter
the disbelief – and then the end…

eagles circled there
where nature fed life abundantly
where love played in song
vultures kept to the haziness of the horizon

when nurture came to take life
to feed the cold greed of muskets
the earth vanished

characters:
yellow sand dunes, millions of grains
rock circle formations, hundreds of rocks
snakes, bats and crickets
widgets
gadgets
dogs
birds of paradise
brush and humble grasses
circle of eagles
three crows
lone emaciated vulture
large baobab trees
goats
huts
mist
unbridled horses
wind
children
light
dark
silence
bow-player complex
tears
guns, rifles
whiteness
praying mantis (without head)
an eland, in flight
god, in omniscience

witnesses to that day
trees sang and birds bore sweet fruit
when life was a song in season
until the melody of the dog’s mouthbow
started to sound deadly restless
and the sand dunes acted shifty
in the stillness of the breeze

witnesses to that day
the kommanie came through the mist
the sand contains and remembers
the trees have willowed
under the weight of its muteness

crows come to tell of that day
a village fell silent after the noise
a valley fell empty of life and limb
and vultures mourned their luck

what was that there
in time and space?
before – and – after
the laughter – and then the silence
the drought – and then the blood
the cries – and then the slaughter
the disbelief – and then the end

eagles circled there
where nature fed life abundantly
kept vultures in the haziness of the horizon

what happened
when nurture came to take life
to feed the cold greed of muskets

a deadly silence has perpetuated
through the tender ages
the string of the bow had been broken
the memory of a people wiped
the land rendered void, discovered

the bow-player/plant/animal complex beckon
outside of circles that entrance tribal fires
memory floats in swirls of melody
the bow has remembered the string
the arrow has been recalled to song

the wind speaks for the trees
and birds sing for souls unsung
in the ear of a bow, a string tremors of
memories lost and found on the wind

the story has entered the skull
the eardrums of the bow-player tells
of the complexity of human, wood,
stone, iron, bone and sinew
the cosmos resonates

in the vibrations between
heaven and earth, where justice is silent
trees have carried a heavy burden of truth
birds have chorused the details
to reach the beat of the player’s heart
!gda

the big sober up


the big sober up
alas! there was none
no appetite but bigger thirsts

pace, hung over for profits
in stupor to flail by the flagon
to quench the guzzle

the insatiable dragons,
routed in trade winds,
seed deception cum confusion

fires won’t light
grass won’t burn
conversation wont strike

tinder wet as powder
as society lies binge drunk,
delirium tremors entertain dogma
!ggda

Monday, 20 January 2020

for no good reason



and that pain has a long tail...and an even longer memory that reaches from the dusty plains and sand dunes of the desert, to now... today's pain... an old pain that knows the inner flame of living other-ed and casted out, crushed, dispossessed, colonized...  a new pain that now knows the burning that swells up and devours the tamed.

shhht!



‘n ernstige shhht!
‘n doodse stilte val in die klein saal

die ou swaar deur kraak en ‘n lig kruip die gangetjie af
…dis toe dat die leier verskein en versigtig daar in wals
al agter sy skaduwee aan, vorentoe

effe ongemaklike in skoene wat duidelik knap druk;
uitgevat in ‘n formele pak gesny uit jammerlappies
met naate netjies  toegewerk met
toiing-garing van beknopte politieke beloftes en
‘n lang oorjas van wolhaar-kombersie
en ‘n watwatse kravat uit afdroogdoek
en volg sy skadu, na die stage
die mic was aan op die mic stand
die stage was geset en hy was dressed for die occasion.

ughum! Hy maak keel skoon. Die mic werk.
die stilte verdiep, en hy haal saam asem in…

eye to eye through a scope


the sacred mountain, where oceans meet
and rainclouds gather, was a table
in the hungry eye of the sick sailor,
who could only see mirage, food and water

and dry land, in the greedy eye of the sick mariner
who in his delirium could only see a vacant outpost for empire
sails set to the trade-winds of fate that feed the south
like blood and beast follow the flow of water to death

deep down to where gold lie thirsting for men
and diamonds cut truth, to,
like a dog be a best friend to women
in the name of love and fatherland

something had to die for love to live here,
that something was a someone, who moved with the sun
and somehow got “othered” en mass, dispossessed
a people’s humanity, sacrificed at the altar of colonial ritual