| naked
reading on your skin,
that you wanted me to try
to get in...i pushed forward...
and yes, i wanted more,
wanted to get to the core.
and yet, how much closer
could i get?
in the effort to reveal
the concealed,
to get to the part
you've defined as your heart,
what muscles must i move through?
it's in these sinews that i lose you.
how to get beyond bone?
is there a question no-one has asked?
can we ever move beyond
the words our language masks?
polemic # 11
nine of ten crimes,
they say, are committed
by someone the victim knows...
which goes to show –
you should be good
to those you know…
headlines:
“boy dies playing rugby”
does this mean they’ll staunch the
flow of the billions being wasted
on the rugbification of the nation?
unlikely
“boy dies while on ecstacy”
does this mean they’ll increase
their funding to keep fighting
the war on drugs?
probably.
thanksgiving day blues
(u.s. army talk)
permission to speak, sir
that’ll be all
answer the question
that’ll be all
permission to speak, sir
answer the question
answer the question
permission to speak, sir
that’ll be all
flat ladder
the numbers
keep on climbing
&
you can choose
to make them move
higher & higher
… o yea
you can work
harder & make
more moolah
so that
yr food can
have more spices
at higher prices
&
you can take care
of your flesh – pamper
it to make it live longer
&
you can
quantify yr power
in terms of the number
working under
you
but
the numbers will
...and climbing
keep on climbing, ...and
climbing
...and climbing
white guys can’t beg
white guys can’t beg,
they haven’t learnt the ropes yet.
you see them standing at the robots,
their signs limp in hand,
looking stolidly ahead
while the zimbabweans work the crowd –
“even for you only R50.00″
says the one at my window,
“i need a ticket to bulowayo”…
the whiteys just stand there, morose,
as if the audacity of having ended up
on the street is outrage enough…
there they stand,
unaccustomed to need:
“single mother…out of work… asseblief.”
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