Tuesday, 20 October 2015


Our Cracked heels carried dust from beneath our bare feet
The spirit of the red earth rising above our heads
Making uncertain the way ahead

Was fleeing the darkness
The violent dark cloud with angry eyes
Eyes glowing with hate
Lighting the dark, sucking me into tartarus.
The angry clouds begin to drizzle spittle
Thundering commands to the girl in the corner of the mossy wall
Her balloon navel gives life to the GMG logo on her flour-sack dress
The wind uproots a boabab and sends the slithering roots at her
It tears...
Her clothes, her innocence, her hymen
Run little girl run!

Were chasing a persona
A daddy who will not pay a lump sum
To escape a life time of installments
Who will not, like the first smoke from a wet hearth,
Spark joy and leave fast for the clouds
And leave a small boy with a birthmark and a search quest
Pitting him against a sore self
Run little boy run, there is fire on the mountain

Brushed shoulders and locked ankles
We did not fall easily
We fought off and fended off
Grabbed and missed and threw our arms wildly
scratching at the wind
We held on to fear
but we fell.