Long Unsettles Poems
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A man unpresidentially known for the showerhead
Msholozi, the man in charge of singlehandedly running a nation into crisis
With him at the helm the public anxiously watches as the state of things degenerate
The rand has slumbered, corruption trivialised and unemployment popularised
Numeric’s play trickery on his unknowing tongue
And in his mind’s eye rules of grammar are easily ignored
Unpopular for his uninspiring speeches and refusal to obey protocol
A man who unapologetically lives above the constitution without fail
Without resolve he spends his term in office under the guise of ignorance
A generous man whose time is easily spend trying to resolve crises in countries outside our shores
He gets to lead a life of privilege without burning a sweat
He carries on blindly without taking any responsibility while the rest suffer the consequence
The unjust Msholozi hypocritically lives above the law but expects others to obey
The threat of prison bars didn’t hold him down because his connections served him right
A smart man with a dedicated entourage of followers to defend his malice
From the safety of his chambers he observes like Big Brother leading a nation to its downfall
As things spiral down he generously extents the rope to which the economy hangs itself
Cynically he laughs off his critics while the believers fan off the opposition
He doesn’t get his hands dirty since willing volunteers fight his battles
The booing and anger from a nation divided never unsettles this comrade
Without shame he takes merit from the achievements of others
He doesn’t worry about his endless failures since his inactions are blamed on the past
After all, he’s a diligent leader living in a utopian valley where all his citizens are satisfied
He sees no wrong, hears no concerns and does nothing to improve the nature of things
An unscrupulous man who dishonourably musk’s his failures by claiming what others have earned
At the sound of his voice the martyrs who selflessly fought for this freedom turn from their graves
Hi puppets continue to defend him like a messiah filling his silences with bombastic defences
He’s set in his questionable ways and is undeterred by motions of no confidence
Like the mafia his enemies are harshly eliminated from the face of politics but friends handsomely rewarded
Gradually the crystalizing dawn -- more hardened
Than folded steel --- more sharper than
The blade that cuts!
Wisps of thin vapour, once loitering insidiously
At the steps of each staunch door,
Swirling away -- seemingly almost alive!
Coiling and uncoiling. Has all the litheness of a
Dancing girls weightless silken ribbon.
Until, retreating back, high, into some lofty,
Inaccessible mountain...
Dissipates as if just abandoned dragons breath.
The trees and streams are no longer so solemn.
Circling over the temple, above the brittle lands
Frosted chill, red-beaked choughs noisily engaged
In agitated clattering...
But now the temple bells are commanding those
Monks to prayer.
The blind and withered monk, who sits alone
In his unassuming corner, reminds us:-
"An emperor who abuses his power unsettles the
Equilibrium of the whole nation, the workings of
Nature,
And the livelihood of all people;
His responsibility is to maintain harmony in
Himself and the empire...
By acting in accordance with Confucian principles".
It is for them to contemplate what we cannot
Comprehend:-
We are peasants and it is not expected of us
To understand such wise things; nor should we.
We understand the fish and their ways, and the
Ways of the Blue River...
Just as monks understand our gracious lord Buddha.
Rouses the sun. Slowly lifts an enormous sky.
Glistening hoarfrost spun from bramble to
Bush -- strung from bough to branch like
Giant spider web;
Stiffened grasses that so pleasingly crunch
Underfoot;
And from these grasses, droplets of moisture
Ready to be released like slow weeping tears;
They will join with and sweeten the vibrant
Spring waters -- clearer than quartz --
That stream in tripping rivulets over yellow rocks
To splash from shallow cup to pouring pool...
Once you have tasted these waters you would
Have little more need of wine.
Wine is for idle men, or for our warring masters
To drink when celebrating great victory;
What use have we of intoxicating wine?
It is better kept as an offering...
Lest the river Gods grow angry and
Spoil our catch.
There were silence and stillness in the autumn air
Foliage adorned the trees like fair auburn hair
The stream did not bubble; the pond had no ripples
The garden seemed uninhabited by people
But the garden was not void of good company
On a bench was seated the little girl and me
‘You look quite troubled. What could be wrong?’ I asked her
‘Is there any way I could make you feel better?’
The little girl looked at me and said, ‘I feel lost…’
‘There is a debt that comes at much too high a cost
I cannot meet the price; it is just too hefty
This unmet debt unsettles me; I feel guilty…’
‘Debt? Hefty? Guilty?’ her vague statements puzzled me
‘What you are saying to me is a mystery!
What hefty debt could come at much too high a cost?
Is it greater than the price Christ paid on the cross?’
‘I understand what you’re saying in my mind’s eye
But my heart condemns me; that I cannot deny
For Christ, my Lord, tells me to love my enemy
But I can’t show concern to the one who hurt me’
I could not find the proper words to comfort her
Guilt burned within me like hot, ignited sulfur
Since the one who hurt me is not my enemy
Why does it repulse me to show her some pity?
After some silence and reflection, I asked her:
‘My dear, have you brought this struggle to God in prayer?’
‘Prayer?’ the little girl fidgeted uneasily
‘Well, no… I can’t…’ she sighed and bowed her head sadly
‘Well, why not?’ I pressed her for a clearer answer
‘I’m afraid… Afraid to pray about this matter
I’ve locked it up in that dark, familiar closet
It is something I want to, but cannot, forget’
‘Why would unlocking the closet bring you such fear?’
‘I don’t want to go to that room… I’m happy here
I was once held captive in that dark, dreadful room
Confined in a closet where despondency loomed
What if my return holds me captive forever?
What if the closet recaptures its prisoner?
No, I will never set foot in that room again!
Dear Lord, please spare me the trauma; save me the pain!’
Lost for words, I reached out and took hold of her hands
‘Our fears and struggles, our Lord Jesus understands
Though words of prayer may fail us, He knows our frailty
Entrust our guilt to Him; our load He will carry’
Many moons ago the island was born
spewed up in a volcanic eruption
it was perfectly formed out of rock
five nautical miles from the mainland
A barren isle with no life on it
visited sometimes by birds and seals
over time the dung from them all
provided a base for tender shoots
There was but one stream here
which flowed from the towering rocks
cascading joyfully down into a pool
a stunning splash of viberant blue
Around it started to appear flora
the seeds carried in by the birds
were now taking root and tranforming
life now has a grip which in time flourishes
The barren island soon attracted life
first the birds who started nesting
in the newly grown lushious trees,
their songs bringing musical sounds
Then came the many different insects
most importantly the honey bees
fertilising starting new species
covering the land with lush greenery
Gradually the animals swam over
getting busy finding homes
now the island was flourishing
gay sounds breaking the long silence
Here nature has triumphed over all
transforming a bare rocky isle
life has been yet again reaffirmed
from nothing comes a veritable paradise
Man attracted visits collecting eggs
fishing the shores and lakes
Yet none set down roots here
there is a strangeness that unsettles
Instead they use it for worship
and for their native burials
for they had knowledge of nature
this was not for man to spoil
All was well in our island paradise
until white men found this little gem
desecrating the graves and plundering
the island until it was almost bare
Furious witch doctors set a curse
that night screams could be heard
the natives huddled together shaking
by morning, deep silence reigned
Looking out to the island
they saw new razor sharp reefs
completely surrounding the island
Nature had reclaimed her masterpiece
If we humans were to create the vast nature in a dream life,
A sky like a sponge would absorb the pollution spreading around,
Each day heavy with clouds that hide the divine brilliance,
The vastness of the sky would pale before our weary minds.
Perhaps we wouldn't invent birds, but silent drones for purposes
That wouldn't know the morning song, the free and unbounded flight,
Our preference for straight and uniform paths would flourish,
Where stops are already fixed, and the unknown becomes fear.
A monotonous gray sky would reflect our ashen thoughts,
And diversity would be a forgotten dream in the corners of closed minds,
For uncertainty is an unannounced storm that unsettles us,
And humanized nature would wear a veil of dark fog.
Perhaps Mother Nature would no longer wear rivers in her gentle hair,
Without the greenery that envelops her like a gentle cloak, without flowers,
Without the textures of mountains and valleys on her sun-kissed skin,
Only a robot would remain, functioning for our benefit.
In place of her warm smile, a cold plastic mask would reign,
And the ultimate goal would be serving a humanity lost in itself,
A mechanical world, devoid of the mystery and beauty of life,
Where nature would be just a tool, not a source of miracles.
Thus, in this world created by us, the magic would disappear,
Leaving behind only a melancholic longing for what we've lost,
In a stream of consciousness flowing like a river forgotten by time,
For we have forgotten to see beauty in divine imperfection.
The constant need for constant motion lulls the sharp coil
Of twisting anxiety around her core.
It begins in madness, the subconscious kick start of her heart
She knows does not exist. - I am fine. -
The unfamiliar rhythm from unfamiliar emotion is truly terrifying.
The only scenarios that flood her mind are ones of dark endings,
Are ones of non existent pain, non existent death.
Her mind races faster than the pace of her terrified heart and body.
- Not again. -
The notion of slumber fades as her muscles want nothing more to do
Than to express the complete Hell that has fallen upon her.
What evil soul deserves even this? - No one does. -
The empire she built in the safety of comfort has been burnt to ashes
By the failing of the pretence of security.
Her entire core has been broken, her spirit plunged into the depths of
Absolute madness as her body maintains this new state of panic.
- I can't breathe. -
It lingers in the back of her mind at every turn of her life,
It unknowingly makes decisions on her behalf,
It forces itself upon her. - I can't move. -
But, in a rarity of insanity,
She looks toward the sky and sees it is as blue as her dreams.
Her speeding heart calms, the trembling slows
As she regains control.
This demon that invades her core, unsettles her mind,
Will never be vanquished.
It will lie, beaten and broken in the very depths of her being
In the pitch black dark, with no hope of light.
- I am fine. -
Dust circles
Night unsettles
A broken form
Now, owns the horizon
A perfect storm
Searching for...needing an origin
Tears risen
Fears driven
Into a dream
To the end of all reason
A wind so warm
To capture beauty like a prison
Chorus
Riches come fast
But it’s all gold dust
What lies in your rubble
What truth do you resemble
When we know everything
There is to know about everything
‘cos your pillars are still standin’
But we can’t reach an understanin’
So we much on
Down memory lane
To shattered homes
Where we’re unknown...this stormy season
A soul with no name
On the verge of self-destruction
Life’s golden syrup
Some joy still irrupts
Spreading life’s flow...stealing love's glow
Now about to drop
Our death trap
Onto the unforgiving cold floor!
Chorus
Riches come fast
But it’s all gold dust
What lies in your rubble
What truth do you resemble
When we know everything
There is to know about everything
‘cos your pillars are still standin’
But we can’t reach an understanin’
Unearth my fossils
My wealth you shovel
Decode my DNA...my hidden memory
I turned to stone
Oh, I returned to dust...a wasted legacy
Riches come fast
But it’s all gold dust
Cities of gold, cities of old!
What lies in your rubble
What truth do you resemble
Your salt runs into the ground
In your twisted games...you turned around!
Dust circles
Night settles
Inspired by Prime Circle's – Let the night in
I teeter on the brink of possibility.
The sun on the new horizon glistens
its rays on the undulating sea of change.
I gaze a while, drifting with a squawking gull,
or diving with a hunting cormorant -
lost in my imagination, caught in plausibility.
Sometimes a gust of wind unsettles my balance;
I totter into uncertainty, struggling to stand,
but you take my hand and steady me.
Now I only look ahead; no way back.
The chasm is inviting me to jump;
to take a leap of faith and ditch the doubt.
I place my baggage at my feet;
packages of responsibility and confusion
tucked in neatly and nestling with the past.
One last tug at the sleeve of my coat
as they make a last ditch attempt to restrain me,
and I have jumped - flying through the air, free.
As I land I see you there smiling and safe,
arms outreaching. The promise of the future beckons,
and looks inviting, exciting and full of hope.
Once I teetered on the brink of possibility
now it is a glistening reality. The sea is calm now.
And, as the sun sets on the horizon, I am home.
(note: to all my lovely friends who thought I was literally considering leaping into a chasm to
my death, I can assure that I am most certainly not!!! It is merely a metaphorocal chasm,
and I intend to stick around for quite a while yet. Heavens, I am just about to have a book
published, life is very good! Thanks so much for your concern though)
In snooker there is but one rule
To play your best at the crucible
Professionals play under extreme pressure
For the crowds joy and immense pleasure
Fifteen reds set up on the table
Potting away at different angles
Six different colours to add to the score
A 147 break and the crowd just roars
The talent so hot, competition is fierce
These geniuses play without any fears
The crowds are gathering to take their seats
To watch the rocket increase his lead
Ronnie stoops down to take his shot
Suddenly a noise in the crowd, oh' he’s shocked
Michaela raises her voice, calm down please
To late the distraction unsettles his ease
In an effort to continue he chalks his cue
Playing for green, his minds on blue
He strikes the white and hits the green
But it rattles in pocket, he's caused a scene
He knows he’s missed even before the shot
His concentration gone, another frame lost
Due to start a another frame now
Selby to break, the crowd crying out
Commentary throughout has been superb
The skill of these players we've observed
An absolute brilliant entertaining game
especially that last twist in the final frame
(Oh' Wait a minute, I think we've been snookered!)
Copyright © 12th February 2014
K.C.Leake
All Rights Reserved
Moon, Moon, see what I give you, moon.
an offering, as images
Hitherto quiescent in their primal darkness
Writhe upward from the writhing mind
Like sacrificial smoke.
For now my mind avid for the sea
Destined to replace it surges like that surface
Under the cool frenzy of your midnight glow
And unsettles to the point where I
Rehearse the end pursued: first,
My tossing on reflected horns; then after, sunk
In lucent ambiences where your pull
Unfurls the seaweed's banner from my spine
And where my vacant skull can measure out
Eternity in grains of sand.
Wholly dissolved, draw me up loosely
Till poised in an exquisite crest
I indicate the centre where your forces gather.
Moon, moon, see what I give you, moon.
To little purpose is the blood I offer:
Burdened with a death still unachieved,
I sometimes tremble when my diapason swells,
Being inwardly aware that I
But reinforce its absence by these words
Restored again by your affective light.
But I approach the headlong fall, the pitch
Which happens as the dream exhausts its depths.
Meantime I keep on waiting unfulfilled,
A rotten fruit that moulders from the core.
Moon, moon, what more can I give you, moon?