A Mob-Persuaded Adventurist

The probabilities are pretty good.
So finally I have persuaded myself to do it.
This weekend.
Mobbish group of friends are to blame.
This adventure sure to be nerve-whacking.
Already feeling the Adrenalin rush.
So here I hang my hormones on the ropes.
For I am going Bungee jumping.
Yahoooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo!

The Delimma Of A Middle-aged Orphan

1978
A besotted night
A full-blooded knight
A dutiful dame
A cherished game
9 moons
A birth
A child
A son
A man
In the footsteps of time
A tragedy
A cruelty
A mother's unscheduled exit
A breached heart
Having never grieved
Sits like a stone in the corridor of anguish
Days and nights in flight
Seasons passing in haste
Years going in and out without care
The other night
The precious knight
Falls into perpetual sleep
In the path of the unending exodus
Now
With all the architects gone forever
In this silent autumn
I ask of those still around
Where are the happy dreamers?
What do I do with these memories?
Where do we belong?
Here?
There?
Left behind
I feel so abandoned

The Picture Of Love

Last night
On the way to bed
I looked at the picture on the wall
Was greeted by the satisfaction in your eyes
And arrested by the redeeming contours of your smile
And desire summoned me to your side
This morning
As you slept by my side
I stole a glance at the picture on the bed
The way you like to curl up beside me
Even in prosaic sleep you exude angelic charm and grace
Engraving the picture of contentment upon my heart
Thanks for the picture of love
Your love

The Street Child

An unwanted
Deserted
Being
Raised
On the streets
By no one
For no one

A jagged phantom
Of a wizened childhood
An ejected nestling
Roaming
The veins
And arteries
Of cities and towns
With no obligation
And no consideration

A vagabond
Of wretched existence
A weed
A parallel life
Doting
Alongside
Contours of unconsciousness
Like an aborted shadow
With no voice
And no choice

An apoptotic blip
Programmed to deviate
So he wanders
All his life
Searching
Itching
For his lot
In all the wrong places
Without peace
And without ease

Fate Or Choice?

I could not believe my eyes
The last time I saw him
My best childhood buddy
Hair hyper-greyed
Head bowed eternally to the gravity of indignity
Shoulders sagging to the tunes of depravity
Pot- bellied by the cruelty of his blight
A beautiful life wasted by the misery of his plight
A precious soul arrested by the animosity of his circumstance.
When and where was the wrong instance?

In this season of goodwill, please remember those less fortunate than yourself.

Game Of Chance?

Forget about serendipity. There is more to this than meet the eyes.
What is the probability of running into the same lady, a casual acquaintance, in three different places in three days?
Whilst you are mulling over that, the first thing I noticed on each of the 'random' encounters is the lecherous stir in her eyes. The third encounter did set alarm bells in the mind.
What did I do on the third occasion? I faked a smile and move on with my business, ignoring her. But deep within I felt there was something sinister going on.
Am I being paranoid?

Ali In The Morning!

On a frank note, I am finding it incredibly difficult to post lately.
Time constraints as well as a persisting state of acute weariness are having their toll on me.
So blogging is the last thing on my mind these days. Even when the inspiration is there, the energy to write, finish and post is often absent. Judging by the high number of unpublished posts, I am surely suffering from a form of blog fatigue. Lol.
I hope that somehow my cup of tea does not become my cup of frozen tea!

I have been reading some of my posts and you simply cannot imagine how much I am embarrassed by the sheer number of errors- grammatical and otherwise.
I wonder how anybody could make sense of some of the things I wrote. I couldn't!
Clearly I am not even close to being meticulous as I thought I was. Sorry folks for all of the incoherent sentences and the misspelt words I have left on this wall. What a torture!
Will do my darnest best to write better.

The story of a secondary school friend helps me to take a lighter look and laugh at myself.
KS was good at talking the queen's language, writing it though was a brutal challenge. He was the ultimate butcher of the English language( and perhaps of all the other languages he learnt at school) because he was the type of guy who simply wrote words the way he heard them. In hindsight, I think he was dyslexic.
"Ali in the morning" was his way of writing "early in the morning"!
Enjoy your weekend!

Modernity?

An unsaintly hour tiptoeing
High
Above folksy heads
Humanity discarded
True friendship banished
Exotic options on every table
Faked sophistication
Meaningless busyness
Depravity
Vanity
Twisted motives
Cheated trust
Pretence all around
Empty smiles
Grip and grin
We crave company
In this belly of loneliness
We cry out for purpose
In this sea of mundanity
We thirst for community
Lost in our own alienation
Multitudes in maddening rush
For the very empty dreams
For which many have sold their souls
I see many standing
At obtuse attention
To the modern anthem
As they push headlong
To the place of slaughter
Bewildered dreamers
Meandering adventurers
Floating in unfamiliar spaces
Lost in the modern wilderness
Wondering aloud
We have arrived and yet we feel so lost
We have evolved and yet so unfulfilled

Improper Fractions

Zombies
Restless souls
Prisoners of vanity
Rolling stones
In perpetual motion
Improper fractions
Defying logic
KM was one of them
An Uncle dearly beloved
Was close to half a century when he dropped
The fatal flaw
Unwillingness to stick to only one dearly conjoined
He lived a passerby's dream
Wilds seeds sown across the field
Fatherless mob
Incomplete souls
Unanswered questions in tearful hearts
I am crying
I am cringing
Is there a way to repair the breach?
Will the genes receive redemption?
I dread a replicating portfolio full of bile
Disasters
Heartaches
Circles of shame sprouting behind the barns
I spare a thought
I say a prayer
Concoctions from above thrown across the fields
Healing balms in view
A new horizon
Rains of restoration pouring down
Garments of praise on the lines
There is hope after all

Succubus

I think I know who to blame for the messy saga
I am afraid Regina has gone awanger
I should have known right
She never gives up on the dight
Her mother raised her a minx
A kitten devoted to tawdry jinx
After so many parted years
Having it off with me willy-nilly

Sitting Pretty

In the corner of my sanitized view to my left
A professor emeritus
A capped staccato of dignity and service
Sitting pretty in the rows reserved for tenured stature
In the midst of the congregation of celebrated minds
In the auditorium of distinguished persuasions
A picture of ancient youthfulness so pristine
The anthem of genes crafted by generations of scholarship and fortitude
One beautiful day I will sing of her praises to my daughter
Sitting pretty by her side until her light shines so bright

Contemplations

"I am a watcher

I came as a visitor and

I am still watching my mind now"

. . . Zim Ngqawana

I think that I am entering a new phase in my life. I sense within me a shift of priorities.

I am certainly entering a new phase in my life, spiritually speaking, where I sense the need to always weigh personal ambitions against the welfare of those around me.

The quest for a personal, practical and fine balance between the intellect and intuition all of a sudden seems like a wholesome pursuit worthy of a life-long commitment.

There was a time in my life, when I was hard-hearted, uncaring and ungrateful.

Today. I see myself differently. I am learning to bring a sense of balance in my life. I am learning to prioritize and live by a value system based primarily on elevating the concerns and needs of those around me, my loved ones, above my own.

Selflessness, empathy and the desire to treat others with honour have always been part of my life, but now it seems to me that I am awakening to a much higher level of relationship with others.

I am asking myself whether I have been missing the human experience all along?

I am wondering if I am, perhaps, stepping into sentimentality? I am really not sure.

These are some of the issues gripping my mind as I begin the first week of June.

I have got to go. Bye.

The Inner Shush

I can't figure out the heart of this forbearing shush
Denouncing seems so out of place like a dance on an alter of slush
Not at a time when the sting of my voice feels so right
How do I untie the knots that hold the bonds so tight

Comfort me with your ocean of love my dear
I long for the redeeming touch of your healing lips honey

My spirit must dance again to the soothing songs of grace
My mind itches to be over the clouds of earthly embrace
Could it be that I need to look elsewhere for the rhythms of consolation
I seek the fellowship of solemn feasts to reclaim the path of consummation

Engage me in the rhyme of graceful exchange my dear

Take my hands to the delightsome curves where love river flows honey