Structures of Meaning

Head arches

Inflating balloon-style

As if I

Were

About to

Lift off

Propelled by:

Righteous anger,

And Hot Air.

There in the stratosphere

Contemplation of

The Structure of Meaning

Embodied in Me

At this time

In this place

Once I reach Outer Space

I will let genetic legacies fly

Joyously admixing

Till no traces

Are left

To harden 

When I land on earth

Swallowed by the ocean

I will be soft hewn

Malleable and porous

I will be True Love

Dispersing into foam on the waves

I will break on the shore

Droplets of salt water

Percolating into sand

Nothing left to hold

Nothing left to be

Lady Killerz

i was a video girl

though too shy to

step into the light

i hung back

watching dancing initials stiched on the back of their jeans

she was beautiful

i know it

just awkward in her skin

uncertain of stepping out; disjointed

occasionally feeling the power of the flow

when she shone inside it

stars on her belt glinting fierce

wild lights and Oh My Goodness!

her hips would wind and God smiled

were they wasted years?

those perfect bitches that were my inner critics

colonised my brain

spoke a language i only partly understood

well dressed and operating with

Brutal Intent

their violence targeted the potential for creative collaboration at my heart

i kidnapped the weakest one,

stuffed her in a cupboard

slipping out through the kitchen door

ready to fight a mighty battle on the dance floor

these are my creations after all

this poem my offering

for a New Year

image

Till Johannesburg

Credit limit increased
Africa shines inside a twelve week module
Constructed from
Fragment memories
Shards of remembering made-up
Snatches of conversation
The songs we feel
Inside our cars
Ancestral cults and curls
Yearning for belonging
A bigger picture
A cultural context
You know when
It feels right
And the music fills up every broken part
In-head
I offer my children apologies
For the mess we are
Though, shoulders shrugging
When occupying
A point of stillness
In the midst of the Chaos of Us
It’s the realness I get stuck on
That makes sorry unnecessary
After all this
We can only be
Where
We are
Riding the dual carriage way from the Celtic Fringe
London bound till Johannesburg