administrator's blog

You Don’t Know What

You don’t know what
(your next salary will be)

You don’t know what
your next salary will be
so jokes our ex-Premier
at a surprise birthday party
(while outside are parked
the trappings of the BEE-order)

You don’t know what
your next salary will be
he jokes with local officials
on the way out

You don’t know what
your next salary will be)
a living wage or the usual
pittance of 30 pieces of silver

You don’t know what
your next salary will be

Well – join the queue

Its News to Me

Its news to me
that our local head-man
is in need of one
(a job, that is)

Its news to me
as it was to him
you heard it before
(and not from me)

Its news to me
as my impression is
that we all had work
(to make democracy work)

Its news to me
that some folk need
to get material rewards
for the good of the cause

Its news to me

Penned Thursday morning, 17 July 2008, in response to a poster saying “We find Rasool a job”.

Will You See Him

Will you see him
our local emperor
now that he is
an unemployment statistic

Will you see him
on the street where you live
if there is indeed one
and streetlights too

Will you see him
in a clinic or pension queue
waiting patiently and obediently
like the rest of us voting cattle

(Will he be driven
to drink or some other opiate
while in a queue near you)

Will you see him
baby-kissing and hand-shaking
for a new and different cause

Tell Me Why

Tell me why
is it hard to make
arrangements with yourself

Tell me why
the words of an old songster
I by coincidence was listening to

Tell me why
I am to join
the ranks of the jobless

Tell me why
I am your whipping boy
responsible for everything

Everything and more
crime, poverty, human abuse
maybe global warming too

Everything and more
Tell me why
are we not
all (equally) responsible

Land Reform and Agricultural Production

Thanks very much for the article on the increase in food prices. As far as TRAC-MP is concerned, and I am sure that these sentiments are shared with other Land Rights NGOs, the Minister should apologise to the South African public for the failure of the Land Reform Programme. Barely 5% of SA land has been returned to historically disadvantaged people since 1994.

I Can’t Keep Up

I can’t keep up
with the Cubans
our compatriots
in struggle-solidarity
(lest you forgot)

I can’t keep up
just watching them
boundless of energy
on the dance-floor
(it tires me out)

I can’t keep up
as some of us, too
have grown tired
of building democracy
here down south

I can’t keep up
so Cubans come
to help us

I can’t keep up
can you

Thumbs Up

Thumbs up
I get from a smoker
on a late-night cattle-truck
after he downed his beer

Thumbs up
after my glare
pierced his conscience
and he stubbed it out

Thumbs up
I get on my way
— a rare outing —
Friends of Cuba Society

Thumbs up I get
Was I the lucky one

Train-bound to Mowbray, Saturday early evening, July 12 2008 on my way to a Friends of Cuba Society (FOCUS) welcome for a group of new Cuban Solidarity Workers, here to help remind us just what we struggled for.

Not Even for Chocolate (In Defence of our Constitution)

Don’t kill
for anything
or anyone

Not even for chocolate
live for our Constitution
live for today (and)
for tomorrow too
which might be
somewhat better

Not even for chocolate
though we can’t
even eat it
our Constitution, that is,
or any post-Polokwane
political rhetoric though
there might be food for thought

Defend our Constitution
not in your name
or mine

Defend our Constitution
and not an individual
who promises

You Can’t Even (Look After Yourself)

You can’t even
look after yourself
mutters a Jitsvinger look-alike
(I should look up the brother!)
to a young woman he is
conveniently attached to
in our crowded cattle truck

You can’t even
look after yourself
you might to mutter
about certain young lions
defending their turf
in the name of whatever

You can’t even
look after yourself
practice what you preach
you set the example
(travel third class train!)

You can’t even
look after yourself
never you mind
the rest of the youth

Your Wild Oats (or Mine)

Your wild oats (or mine)
these we see around us
doing their thing
articulating what they do

Your wild oats (or mine)
pledging their loyalties
to emperor and fatherland
for better or for worse

Your wild oats (or mine)
laying themselves down
on the (party) line they toe
in the name of all things

Your wild oats (or mine)
prepared to go to war
prepared to make war
back to the bush (mentality)

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