Laughter

Put your hands under my thigh,
Immigrant,

You from the Eastern Peoples,
Come with the Shepherdess you call Rachel and water your sheep,

Sooth your bitter cry, Esau
You who sold your birthright for a bowl of stew,

You are not about to die,

The West’s intention is more evil than your own deceit, come
Mind not the bully with the swastikas painted on his back,

Mind not his girlfriend with the crooked teeth, fear
Not the politician and his fat briefcase,

Eat now you handsome man!
Your whole body like a hairy garment!

The smell of you is like the smell of a field!

So eat now,

Before the Policeman in Arkansas shoot you down.

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Published in: on February 13, 2018 at 13:55  Leave a Comment  
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Without borders

Work is out-sourced or,
Completed quickly,

– even for slaves –

The rest of life happens anyway, as if
Travel is free across the Earth,

People ferrying gifts for other earthlings,
And taking gifts themselves, and

Nations who visit violence on their citizens will not understand when,

Aliens arrive,
In their cars;

Who is the human,
And who the State or;

There are masses of molecules shifting through Earth’s atmosphere, that
Have the ability,

To be conscious,
Enough to,

Look after the whale, and

Not demand that the whale,
More intelligent,

Look after them or –

The starving Sudanese,
Crossing the border,

Earthlings will be eaten.

Photo – personal

-short evocative poetry-

Published in: on January 23, 2018 at 16:17  Leave a Comment  
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Encouragement

Encouragement happens when we look for it,

And give it,
In turn, it

Happens when we are not ready, when
We do not need it, yet

When,

We do, it
Is often soft and yellow,

Mellow on the face of a lover.

♦Photo – Personal♦

-short evocative poetry-

 

-John 16:16-

Published in: on January 18, 2018 at 13:23  Leave a Comment  
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Then the land had rest from war

My Gardener is enthusiastic.

He kills all the weeds in my garden,
Sweating conviction,

In purple droplets,
Muscles wet,

In the midday sun, he
Slaughters them,

My perfect weeds I spent so long cultivating,
Black,

And whites ones,
Jewish and Muslim,

Mayhem.

Now the name of Hebron formerly was Kiriath-arba.
(Arba was the greatest man among the Anakim.)
And the land had rest from war;

But –

My gardener has turned into a terrorist, and
My weeds are no longer safe.

-Joshua 14:15-

gay israel muslim christian terrorism

Photo Gay Israel on Pininterest

-short evocative poetry-

Published in: on January 1, 2018 at 14:09  Leave a Comment  
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Just do it

No one lingers on open ground in Syria,
And the buildings are silent.

The young man steadies his hand and shoots again.

It is Christmas Eve, and his
Yellow T-shirt – Just Do It – is his only reminder,

Of normal people,

And Christmas stockings,
And of his mother.

His brown Uncle says he is fighting for his niece,
His manhood, but
The woman who shot,

In his direction fully clothed was fully,
Female,

Fully functional.

The bombs have destroyed all the buildings and the shooting,
Almost everyone,

And,
The meaning on the T-shirt is not his, but

He takes aim and shoots again.

Published in: on December 25, 2017 at 10:01  Leave a Comment  
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Snatching Time

She left without saying goodbye and you,

Have no more time, no
Early morning breakfasts, no

middle-of-the-night-fights,
Gone and now you must choose,

To give hope faster.

-Photo – Personal-

-short evocative poetry-

Published in: on November 6, 2017 at 16:36  Leave a Comment  
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Parade

They paraded before him in,
High-heeled shoes and,

Dangerous blouses,
Then,
Jesse, with the strong arms, and the

High chest,
Called Abinadad of the desert lands,

Furry legs and all, and
Had him pass in front of Solomon,
But, Solomon said
Not this one either,

And the rest of the parade, each

With their own,
Bursting muscles,
Were rejected also, but

One was chosen,
With fine feet.

♦Photo – Personal♦

-short evocative poetry-

Published in: on September 14, 2017 at 11:06  Leave a Comment  
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Shoes

Shoes make the world go round,
Steady shoes,

Come home,
Stilettos,

Come sweet,
Yellow,

High heels,

Carry intention,
Fresh,

Stride,
Steady shoes,

Sure shoes,

Move,
The man in front, sure

Move the world,
Brogues,

Sure,

You can ask the time,
Leather loafer, certainly

Have my number,
Gazelle in yellow.

-short evocative poetry –

Published in: on August 31, 2017 at 17:01  Leave a Comment  
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Hippie


Envy in a bright blue dress sways down the street, turning

The doll the child is holding,
Into trash.

Her green plaid skirt –
Is useless in the wake of this drunk apparition,
And you deserve more,

Faster.

Stress, the suave gentleman in the red suit and orange cuff-links,

Plots his move.

Anger gathers dust around the
Isolated little girl, gathers

Whisper and,
Rumour,

Sets them chattering; I
Deserve better –

Cuff-links glint –

I don’t see why I,
Cannot have that doll,

That she has, it’s,

Not fair to,
Make me wait,

In plain sight, of
It,

With the straight hair,
That’s over there,

With her,
Demon!

I shall find my flip flops and search you out,
And give you a large, brown flower!

-short evocative poetry-

Published in: on August 14, 2017 at 10:28  Leave a Comment  
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Rhumba

Gentleness is a fertilizer, a
Rhumba,

Swaying wheat,
Balanced corn,

In a field,
Caressed by rain, it is

Kindness
To yourself,

Ploughing, when the harrow is ready,
And sweating,

Gentleness,

Glistening off chests, is
The masculine scent of forgiveness,

The feminine of,
Breaking ground,

Gentleman or Boer, order

In the house,
Order!

Give in.

*Photo – personal*

-short evocative poetry-

Published in: on August 13, 2017 at 08:07  Leave a Comment  
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Puppets of routine

A morning bird call broke my rhythm.

Destroy a wall, why don’t you
Power through patterns,

Holding you back;
Anger is a useless form of being.

I like to move it, move it,
Physically fit,
We can be better, we

Can always be better, save
The Earth,

Can a man scoop fire into his lap without his clothes being burned?

You have been trapped by what you said,
Ensnared by the words of your mouth.

Revenge and shame,
Are not cool rivers,

Are not brooks,
Are not life.

That comes with forgiveness, and
A habit is not what a Nun wears.

Published in: on August 6, 2017 at 10:04  Leave a Comment  
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My sister dropped her passport

My father left without saying goodbye,
Because I was late,
And CITES will not wait, for
African Leaders to emerge,
Female or male,
From the UN or not,
And the son was not at home to say goodbye
-partying as usual-
And my sister lost her passport on the airport road, we

Had to go back and hunt for it,
Lions in a pack,
Sniffing the grass,
Finding freedom, or
Yellowed inoculation cards, or
Rare Visas,
And I rushed back,

I Did,

After the bar, where I was crying
For the father whose glass ceiling meant that,
Africans cannot lead the world imagination, just
It’s institutions.

Anyway,
We said goodbye aptly. 

And we know what was in the heart.

*Photo* – personal

-short evocative poetry-

Published in: on August 3, 2017 at 21:05  Leave a Comment  
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