Free Verse

Free Verse I live not far from humankind the cradle that is of what and where we are all coming from Johannesburg so they say and going to one human race of every colour no need for power domination colonializing margins The ‘dark continent’ where the ‘savages’ did not abide by our expectations of what civilized should be and mean where it was us the other 'othering' cannibalizing our flesh of freedom dignity compassion lost in money mind and soul My cradle rocks and sways in the wild gentle winds in torrents of emotion mood reflection history anticipation certain of uncertainty of what the intermingling retrospective past and future web together like a tapestry of life a bricolage Lost threads there are and double knitted faults and hollows shallow worn out spins and spiral knots and missing patches mended winding fabric scars and wounded oscillations swings and roundabouts cul-de-sacs and four-way stoppage Is there a pattern to cradling the moment to memories to fantasies of rooted wings and flapping roots a human kind of compass joining needles implements of mass construction subjective individual shining lights and armour idiosyncratic beauty Are we starving demising suffocating for self-righteousness loosing the plot and all the marbles thrown high up in the air with juggled balls we aim to fix the waters rivers flowing on their own with push and pull of light and lighted gravitation Just here and now not there and then when sunshine rises where rainbows glitter melt and wax the wane all of the colours into violet prisms focussing condensing refracting blinding darkness understanding knowledge of the shadows and bright clarity When I write some thoughts on paper on the screen of modern techniques and ancient art of crafted words and scripted meaning the cradling of the moment takes its paths of where I’ve started off and might be going once and only when the moment passes 02nd July 2016 written in Johannesburg and everywhere