My childhood was both sour and sweet,
Sour because I lived with two mothers who were immiscible liquids,
Sour because of sibling conflict and strife,
Sweet because my brother and I enjoyed the company of communal friends.
Growing up on Apple Avenue was a memorable experience,
There was a large field at one end,
It housed a public school,
There were vendors on the field who sold indigenous confections,
My brother and I were their loyal customers,
There was a tree on the field that barely had leaves even during the rainy season,
We were told different mystical tales about the tree.
The highlight of one of the evenings was a bicycle race,
Chopper versus BMX,
The race was about which bike was faster,
In the maiden race, my brother was a few metres ahead,
The Chopper rider committed a foul,
He collided with the rear wheel of my brother’s bicycle,
My brother’s bicycle tumbled and he sustained injuries,
It resulted in a fight between rival groups.
The bicycle race was on hold for a long time.
September 25, 2026.
i'm gagging
cursing the traffic lights
catastrophic sweat
i need that sensation when i pull into a decadent parking space
and walk from the car to the ticket machine
three hours early and stuffing my face back in the car park with watery meat juices
stationing the confectionary in the right cavity
memories of hot dogs and dr. robert greenberg
superb breakfasts and sparkling water
the lack of legroom in the upper circle
ushers and their laser beams into the back of heads like Predator
as they take their bows and the curtain falls and the applause ends
i yell to my son, "get to the chopper!"
# My eight hundred Koalas, emblematic and
Innocent.'
Slaughterd..Reason being.? A bushfire.'
Because of.? Overgrowth.' How many times before has this occoured.? Never.!
Because.? Farmers used to graze the forest.' Thereby keeping undergrowth as just that.' And
manageble.' Why did they
Stop.? Sy-op.? Probably.? You see climactic disasters fuel the false climate
Doom management tale..To allow over control on all life aspects.' Here it enanbled
Enviro-mentalists.? To charter a chopper so the eight hundred victims could be slaughtered, because the bushfire had taken the leaf supply..therby presenting the
Possibility.? Of my Koalas
suffering starvation,.' All because of interference in generationly viable land management..By professional
Farmers.' No experts were involved ( or harmed) in the
Creation of this write.'
Quick clay
A dog sent in
Looking for survivors
Given the last hug?
Hunting for people
Silent in quick clay
In a delivery room
She was real and she was perfect
Stillborn
A song played in the room next door
Dobie Gray – «Drift Away»
No beat
A wreck on the highway
Knocking on heaven’s door
A graveyard shift
Knocking on the door
Silence broken by
Slow steps
A ship in distress
A chopper sent in
Looking for survivors
A doctor thinking
The silent ones can wait in
The cruel sea
The room was bright
The respirator turned off
Death was pronounced
The body wheeled away
The room cleaned and disinfected
Nobody should die alone
The shelves is almost empty, the fridge too
The christmas gifts hide under the tree
Few in number, all wrapped up in blue
Nobody tells her to get up and dance
Nobody tells her to sing, sing «Silent Night»
All is not calm, all is not bright
I hear bells ringing
I hear choirs singing
All is not calm
All is not bright
Shine a little light on
The silent ones
Ahead straight, my agonist!
Neuron cells, explode!
Stab at fate and give a twist!
Lava, how you glowed...
Collaboration, my son...
Is this sure for thee?
Bullet, leap! Pour smoke, my gun!
Fine and fair and free!
Truth be told, I'm terrified?
Tiger, tall grass. Hide.
Pit viper, white ankle. Pride?
Surely woe betide...
Rain down, thought-spark! Sing, O song!
Life ahead, be long...
Inspiration, strike the gong!
Wargods, scuppernong.
Heavens, calm. O hell, burn low.
Heart within, thy lull.
Boneyard, battle, bane, below.
Baleful, brazen bull?
My glow is like a grasshopper.
Signalling to send!
Fireworks, grenades, wood chopper!
Death and Doom, make bend!
Set sail for the sun! Setting!
Shop keep in the cold!
Gambler, have you been betting?
Bell city, you tolled...
Vintage wine? O wraiths a-nine!
Service you rendered!
Salt of ocean, bring thy brine!
Optimist: occurred...
29. One expected orchid was gift enough but eighteen and of different color blossoms, well, that beats all my expectations.
30. Clover, dandelions, oxalis, and buttercups that’s our front yard. No wonder flag-man-riding-an-easy-rider-chopper-of-grasses regards me with suspicion.
31. The snow reports kept coming: first inches and then feet. This year, the Sierras, oh so fat with snow, will go on a diet. All the salmon rivers will overflow and the fish will go dancing in backyards.
32. This log carcass at my feet--a coffin’s bottom shelved against mushrooms and other soft-moss decaying things--was once the arm or a nose of a tree and a cracking-moaning breeding song of a cicada discotheque.
33. The garden broke free. My chalk lines, the twined enslavement of kale, and the chicken wire were broken, cut, or directly spilled into grass and dandelions—a family reunion.
34. Plato, I imagine, is in Greek heaven shaping olive trees into perfect spheres. From there, he longs for messy branches, sweaty breasts, and children’s uncontrollable laughter.
***~~~***
(30.4.75: the USA abandons its ally, South Vietnam:
Darwin Judge is the last American to die in Saigon)
Don't ever tell me this was dignified.
I never want to hear of heads held high,
of brothers-in-arms, or marching out with pride.
Just take the pain. It's how it was. Don't lie.
On Wednesday April thirtieth, we ran.
We scurried from the post we should defend,
abandoning the flag, the 'wife', the plan.
We scrambled out, and didn't take our friends.
They washed up all around us, thick as kelp.
To linger here was worse than death. They knew.
Whom else but us could they beseech for help?
We climbed aboard without them. Off we flew.
"White Christmas" played bizarrely, over again,
and big white guys with guns backed from the line
where squatted cooks and cleaners, handymen.
Our time had come to go. This was the sign.
We were their only hope. But, on the sly,
(John Wayne we weren't. Not even Dennis Hopper.)
so no-one would wise up, we - Semper Fi -
snuck sheepishly aboard the final chopper.
the philosopher
The ambulance helicopter
landed on a field near the houses
and upset the mule who was
considering the philosophy of
Bernard Henry-Levy.
It had just reached the conclusion
The man was a featherweight
thinker, but looked good in his
a dark blue velvety suit.
When the clatter of the chopper
subsided, it wondered how many
doctor titles and universities do
A man needs to be careful before turning into an idiot.
my legs welcome the warmth of the Kansas sun
bird with a screech makes weird noises
sweat bee hovers close to my left ear
I swat at it with my notebook
clouds are moving tremendously slowly
an asymmetrical opening shows light blue sky
this peephole is surrounded by brilliant white
have clouds always been this pristinely graceful?
dog brings up empty water bottle to porch
he loves the crackling sound against his teeth
another dog in the distance takes his attention for a second
clouds move a bit faster, I watch, amazed
a wood chopper, car engine and loose shutter sound in the distance
barely perceptible noises, yet I hear them clearly; I have dog ears
small tweeting noise brings my attention to my elm tree
the bee is back, teasing interested dog who tries to catch him
October day, red and orange leaves, lovely heavenly clouds
waving limb with three tiny leaves, scratches against porch
clouds have formed another portal to heaven
I would be more interested if I was not already there.
You are a tree with thousands of leaves.
Yet you let them splatter.
You are human being who deceives,
thence your leaves do not matter.
Without your leaves,
You are a tree waiting for its chopper.
You are just a jabber,
with nothing to consider.
You are less momentous than before
Hence, they are your virus with no cure.
In their presence
You become more attractive.
With them there is a lot of difference.
As they water you, your roots become more active.
Their faces no longer appear with sympathy.
Even, He, Himself starts treating you with equity.
Spinning Knee Man
His knees grew bigger and
steel strong until he was big.
Whenever he wanted to he could extend his knees (and it didn’t even hurt!) ten times as big.
That wasn’t a grotesque display
as it probably should be.
No one could see his flat, rounded triangular bone,
only see his pale hairy skin that covered his knee.
Shockingly no muscles damaged.
Shockingly no tendons and ligaments damaged.
He could spin his
knees and skin like a small chopper in high gear.
His role was to air deliver packages to homes. And deliver orphans to their new homes afar and near.
Doing both was highly rewarding. The community marvelled at his ability that was totally rare.
He joked that the best thing about it was
that he got to fly for free everywhere.
Fruitlet is dangling on branches of trees.
Trees’ branches bearing leaves.
Leaves, green, yellow or brown dwindling.
Dwindling due to vicious strong winds raging.
At the tree’s foot, rotten leaves and fruit snooze.
Leaves snoozing dead fertilize the earth.
Earth to receive falling fruit to break.
To break and deliver her stone alive.
Alive, stone will sprout and feed on dead meadow.
Dead meadow grass will fodder fruitlet’s stone.
Stone to spring young from rotten ovary;
Ovary’s filth to produce a clean shrub.
Shrub, cruel humans will chopper.
Chopper to assassinate mother trees.
Mother trees who are the ecosystem.
Ecosystem agonizing human’s vicious attitudes;
Vicious attitudes of us hominids shatter the lot.
Poem by Ndabuli Mugisho
Those Bikes
See the goth heavy metal custom motorcycle
Ride past with a long haired rider
Dressed how they should be dressed
Black jeans t shirt denim leather
Low rider chopper as it should be
With twin coffin saddle bags
What a ride to the other side
Give him Devil fingers\M/!
Then there was a classic looking bike
Parked up alone
And I saw two racing bikes
One with a fairing the other naked
Heard his engine as he passed
A man asked me on the bridge
Where am I going?
Planet Mars on a custom bike
With my chick and loud tunes
I took a long look at him:
Body of user of Gym
Wants muscles, not to seen trim;
His Agnes might remain The Slim!
There a Tim trains, so does Kim;
Then, why can't he Mister Jim?
Yeah! About time Jim went to Gym
Or Gym does reverse for Jim.
While training follows his whim:
No Rock Music: sings God's Hymn,
Glass of juice filled to the brim,
Eyeglass with Coppery rim...
But Jim for Gold not Copper
His choice of bike A Chopper...
"Tomorrow, another Gym
Remember that Jim."
There is time when there is time
And there is time when there is no time
My next door neighbor, a loving lad
My Lad, You travelled west
You went far away, to fly back
Away to come back in a plane
A plane to seek my hand in Love
My Love to keep and fold
Now, my distant seeker
The seeker rode on a mule
A mule without an eye away
He arrived the day when you left
You left to pick a chopper for me
A Chopper and now I'm gone
Gone with him aboard
Aboard our Lovely mule
Tapping the ground around
Stamping love notes
Cooking on the sand
I hear you came
Smelling the best of the west
The chopper flashing the chest
Give us the chopper
To go where you went
And take our mule
To search another soul
This then you note
A mule on earth can move
Faster than a chopper
Living in the sky.
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