Long South africa Poems
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G20 calls.
And South Africa waits.
But the mirror does not lie.
A nation once rising
now sinks in its own shadow.
Do not blame Trump for his absence.
Do not blame Xi for his silence.
Blame yourselves.
For power without wisdom
is a kingdom without walls.
Once the pride of Africa.
Once the hope of the world.
A golden child among nations.
Favoured.
Respected.
Beloved.
Now a mafia state.
Now a broken promise.
Now a house with no doors
and no guardians.
The infrastructure collapses.
The lights flicker.
The streets crack.
The cities decay
like forgotten kingdoms in old tales.
Johannesburg,
your crown jewel,
now looks like a battlefield.
Ashes where beauty stood.
Chaos where order breathed.
Why should G20 leaders come?
Why risk their lives?
Why waste their time
on a land trembling under corruption
and unburied truth?
You inherited wealth.
You inherited gold.
You inherited systems
built with precision and discipline.
But you shattered them
in a single generation.
Leadership failed you.
And failure became a culture.
Opportunities were many.
But vision was none.
A nation cannot live on memory.
A country cannot rise on slogans.
The future demands architects,
not actors.
South Africa,
withdraw with dignity.
For G20 is no place
for a kingdom in ruins.
Your wound is not history.
Your wound is the present.
And it bleeds every day
while leaders dance
in palaces of illusion.
It is easy to destroy
what you never built.
It is hard to rebuild
what your hands never shaped.
Now the rainbow fades.
Hope trembles.
And the world watches
as a giant falls
under its own weight.
South Africa,
wake up from your dream.
Or be swallowed
by the very darkness
you refused to confront.
Hi dear friends, I’m back after a bad shingles attack and straight after that bronchitis verging on pneumonia.
Little Robin red breast bobbing up and down,
Would take away with glee, anybody’s frown
And friendly buzzing Mr Bumble bee delights,
Us one and all, he does not sting, it’s not his thing.
He visits flowers , red, yellow purple , pink and blue,
Which attract him, loves their pollen and alluring hue.
One day bumble bee and little robin decided to be human,
So prepared for tea and pancakes, without the gluten,
They saw Katy the caterpillar crawling on the lawn,
And invited her to join them, the following morn at dawn,
They all met for this fun occasion by the nearby river,
But an uninvited visitor arrived with shiny wings, such a diva.
A Hadeda elegant and loud of call thought she was an opera
Singer, had one thing on her mind, which was Katy Caterpillar,
She slowly walked on her stalk like legs towards this prickly
Little insect, wanting to swallow Katy who was so wiggly,
Down her gullet, but Robin red breast said no no, no,
And Bumble bee agreed and said, I think you ‘d better go
So with his wide spread wings the Hadeda flew away,
Leaving Bumble bee and little Robin to enjoy their day,
How wonderful was their idea for pancakes and tea.
Another visitor arrives, so famous, known to you and me,
Can you guess who.
He wears a top hat, mutters crazy sayings,
And carry’s a full tea pot , ‘do you want a cup of tea,
Oh dear, oh dear, my or me, he or she or maybe you.
He takes his watch out of his waist coat pocket and says,
‘I’m late, I’m late for a a very important date, no time to
Say hello goodbye I’m late I’m late I’m late’
‘It’s time for me to go,
Au revoir from your dizzy beau.’
It was the Mad Hatter, of course,
An Alice in Wonderland source.
What happened to Katy caterpillar, well fearing
For her life, Katy crawled under a nearby bush,
Did not intend to be a snack, or mealtime mush.
NB – THE WORDS UTTERED BY THE MAD HATTER – are both from the book Alice in Wonderland by Lewis Carroll and some of my own.
HADEDA IBIS - referred to in South Africa as only Hadeda.
The Roads of South Africa
To travel the land of one's land is to meet oneself,again and again,in dust and cockcrow.
I am convinced that mist and mountain leave at daybreak to date at Sani Pass.The bend between them is a prayer breathed to the wind.The world here twinkles in folds of cobalt blue and is aflame with warm copper tones . Goats stride like prophets.As the thin air harries your heart it sounds like a drum calling the spirits of your ancestors.
zephyr of mountain gods-
clouds bow at the road's shoulder
boots remember home
The Panorama Route is a complete storybook.God's Window,a laceration of light.The hawk whirling aloft knows no awe.It is awe itself.It has always belonged here.
gap of ancient song,
winds write anthems on ochre...-
echoes wear the sun
A ribbon of defiance is Chapman's Peak Drive.It cuts between the mountain and the sea.Listen closely and you will hear,''beauty is dangerous ''.The sea conducts a reckless choir. It crashes its body against cliffs.A road where valor restrains restlessness and danger seduces the incautious.
froth kisses granite
A gull dives through light and fear,
Waves hail the sky
Long Tom Road winds through mist and memory,canons from the conflicts of Autshumato and Jan van Riebeeck sleep beneath the pines.The virulent air smells pine and history and grilled asparagus tied around pine branches,served with pine oil and pine salt.Long Tom Road is an epistle half written,half read.
Snow on iron rails,
History hums its refrain-
wheels turn,hearts listen
Looking skywards, the Alsatian’s eyes glinted for a split second, connecting to a piercing sun ray.
The ray beamed onto dried semen ammonia. Hot dog breath puffed from his nostrils, onto my bare arm.
He sprung next to a sweating succulent, where a tiny kruisbessie leaf quivered human sperm cell display, in a whimpering breeze.
This was a filigree second, in a day of twenty-four hours times twenty-four hours.
Next the Alsatian’s back muscles rippled.
Coarsely-soft black-brown hair along his spine needled up. Four other police dogs whelped in frenzy. He gave a whip snort-sniff, then one sharp bark of achievement.
Wolf ancestry pupils dilated, penetrating that of his handler.
Time, matrixed into bruised, scratched body was a figment, my cells metabolising light and raw earth like the fragrant koppie bushes. Detective voices sliding sediment rock were parachutes opening, falling, dissipating __the helicopter an incessant mozzie.*
“Hy’t dit gekry.” **
The Alsatian with his helper dogs found the evidence of a brutal ripping of my young teen daughter’s virginity, by an impoverished farm worker, on a rugged hill in the Little Karoo.
THE ALL partnered with dogs for humans.
from my loins, a jewel
God connected sun with earth
violence, a teacher
_________________
*mozzie : slang word for mosquito
** “He’s found it.”
_________________
This lifetime’s moment is etched into my evolving DNA as experience. The power of seeing an Alsatian’s eyes connect in radar, with the heavenly Sun, directing him to dried semen on a delicate fynbos* leaf was astounding. Instant perception was one specific gift during great trauma. I chose this unrepeatable moment as it emerged from memory when I read the contest details.
No line was hard to write, though I shed a couple of stagnant tears.
I deleted how I was able to access the best sniffer dogs in the country, the Alsatian and his handler being flown in from another city. I deleted contextual details about the time.
____________________
*fynbos : fine sweet smelling bushes, some producing small flowers, indigenous to South Africa. Rocky koppies are often covered with them, making this type of hill challenging to climb.
PLACED NINTH : Premier Contest
Sponsor: Daniel Henry Rodgers
Feb. 26
Can we see all the evidence.? Is justice in residence? Under our glorious sun what dark deeds have been done.? We knew it
By the ( moniker lucky?) Which comes from lucifer.' It never before struck me.'
Now its rolling round inside of me.? Ned
Was a man who got pushed too far, and
The empires tentacles, reached out with fan-fare'
From South Africa, an inspector came and
A mass of Vic troopers, cannibal black trackers, and the papers smeared his name, that was in 1889.! Its quite simple and plain.' 2026 now, Dezi you killed too ( no body cameras worn?) So we are
Told.' Hey you coppers is that real true? Is it
Dinkum? Or just stinkin.? Whats emmenating from your heap.? Are there any real ( lawful coppers.?) Active.
? Maybe
They have resigned, or perhaps they're
Paid to sleep.? Yet let me raise the issue;
Of a battler.' ( known as Biff ) who has
had
A past of law-less-ness.' Yet has turned
around , and willingly gives, out his feats,
just a man of
Benalla where i'd once go to watch the flicks
Turned ( journalist ) you-tuber..in Vic the
Bloke still lives? So he did a minor
tresspass.! at the place where that
(rat-sell.!) Went down, to inform the
general public, about any freaky
actions? And what have we found.? That he's being taken to court..And its rumoured he'll face
A judge he has known for years.? The same judge Dezi was taking to court.!
Yes looks like ( predjudice to my eyes )
And it tolls, also dirge-like in my ears..So
Thats the type of system, in Victoria at least, yet the states are all connected mates.' Its the nature of the beast.! A shame before the world so wide, just corruption and cover-ups on all sides
Cause Biffs legal team (
has left him folks!!) Just like that..As
with Tommy Cooper's
Catch-phrase..( which led onto many jokes.')
Yes that is the absurd reality, so I wish Biff all the best ( and a full public gallery')
May you-tubers, swarm into the joint'
And God in justice the verdict fully annoint.)
A tinted rainbow smeared with blood
On its surface lies the bodies of youth devoured by guns
Guns aimed at them by the same people who were meant to protect them
46 years later we are still fighting the same battle as the class of 76
But now the narrative has changed
Instead of fighting against being taught in a language we don’t understand
The fight is against fees and black on black oppression
Please forgive mama that they didn’t tell you when you were voting in 1994 that you were voting for your grandkids and great grandkids to be unemployed
Please forgive me sir that they didn’t tell you ukuthi you were voting for your kids to be working at a carwash with a Masters degree
I am sorry that they didn’t tell you, you were voting for black-on-black oppression
Whose got the whole world in its hands?
Whose got the whole world in its hands?
It is shocking that the world is in these hands.
A tough pill to swallow of arguments
that causes the family tree to collapse.
The global economy and the technologies,
a population lacking all emotional intelligence
dating back to the histories of immense abyss
but at least the horror feels better.
Whose got the whole world in its hands?
Whose got the whole world in its hands?
A poverty of capitalist consequences and the world
keeps all the chaos and thinks
to not make room for peace.
Lying to the public,
standing on the podium of tragedy
wearing the same greed in a black suit.
These palms read threats but
have no ambition to reach recovery.
Whose got the whole world in its hands?
Whose got the whole world in its hands?
Boredom has got the whole in its hands.
A Visit From Some Old Friends
(Thanking Carl and Phyllis)
By Franklin Price
10/02/2015
A visit from some old friends
Turns back the hands of time
Back to the days of riding
And maybe misdemeanor crime
Met them in the HOG club
The Harley “Mary Poppins” group
When we were week-end rebels
From the times of hula-hoop
Those days were so much different
Chose two wheels over cage
Trips a thousand miles or more
For us was all the rage
Starting then, before the sun rose
Stopping hours after set
The ride was what it was about
Not the ending, you can bet
All five senses were aware
Of the wind, and open road
Saddlebags and tour packs
Carried all our journey's load
Never was a thought of trailering
Even when from coast to coast
If we had hauled the bikes behind us
We'd have no reason now to boast
Living then in florida
Rode from there, throughout the land
The lower forty-eight were done
Canadian Maritimes were grand
Riding in South Africa
On the left side of the lane
Saw DLT's and Ostriches
Found tractors were a pain
There are so many memories
Could go on forevermore
But I hear you now are knocking
Must stop and open up the door
No Constraints at all upon me
doing just what I would like
travel free with nothing to pay
wherever I go, always one to strike
Wouldn't it be just amazingly great
visit all my dear poetic friends
wherever in the world that they be
drop in unannounced as one sends
I would have my private jet
with my private pilot sent to go
get up one morning just decide
where that day I could put my toe
Surprise looks there I'd truly find
catch them on the hop without fail
U.S, South Africa, India, Canada, U.K
there my friends do reside, wag my tail
Well it's a nice thought to dream
to live my life fully free
this dream would be truly fab
drop in for coffee asking no fee
(This is written when thinking if I didn’t have any constraints in life, so I attempt to describe what life would look like.)
Ronnies Sex Shop
http://ronniessexshop.co.za/
By Franklin Price
6/1/2017
While riding through the klein karoo in South Africa one day
We came upon a place of fun as we went along our way.
Was an isolated, unexpected, place for us to stop.
Hand-painted large upon the side, were the words, “Ronnies Sex Shop”
Our Harley's stopped, as mouths had dropped, we could not pass this by.
There had to be a story here went in to find out why.
Was kind of cool a swimming pool was outside in the back.
The building a few meters square was concrete not a shack.
As we went in.,expecting sin, we had not gotten far,
If this had been the U.S.A. would be a biker bar.
T-shirts tacked on ceiling, maybe a bra or two,
Ronnie was behind the bar, “What can I get for you?”
The beer was cold and I was bold, said , “what's this place about?”
He told this story to me. The truth never was in doubt.
Ronnie had been a rancher not of cattle but of sheep.
Entertainment for his shepherds was too far with mountains steep.
Always a good employer, he wanted happy men.
He built this tiny building for the party to begin.
He stocked it up with alcohol much beer and liquor too
Brought his workers to the opening, here is Ronnies Shop for you.
That's what he painted on the side in letters of bright red
“Ronnies Shop” was written there and that was all it said.
That was not to last for long demon alcohol would hex.
The drunken shepherds thought it fun to add a little sex
They found the paint, the word to add, and put it in between.
Did not change the purpose but changed what there was seen.
Tourists soon were stopping to see what they could buy.
Ronnie made much money, the bar the reason why.
He got rid of most his sheep opened every day the bar
In this isolated place became a super star
I asked if he still had some sheep, he said only just a few.
I said I bet you kept the best and good looking ones for you.
He said I think you've found me out that's exactly what I did
Still having much more fun at this, than I did as a kid
Then the tale was ended. It was our time to go.
“Ronnies Sex Shop” still remembered as the greatest roadside show.