A Sonnet for the Intruder

she taps her feet on two’s and four’s

fucking up my wooden floors

rap-tap-tap comes Dance again

up and down across my room

pulling legs, my bones atwist

prod me till I get the gist

beat my aching heart again

a tender drum in high volume

slap me, wake me, bend me, break me

music shot back through my veins

fix me, fend me, hurt me, mend me

saddle me and flick the reins

she first sings sweet as sound permits

but when she goes I’m blown to bits

-o0o-

An Appreciation of Kitsch

what isn't straightforward

                               is kitsch

bent and twisted               

         distasteful

                 queer faggot dyke

                         female / femme

            not white

                          transgender non binary

decolonized

beautiful               

this is what I want          

metallic trim on martini glasses     

plush toys hanging from my rear view mirror

garish clothes                                   

insulting to the sensible       

food for the senses   

          kitsch is my blood spilt

                   kitsch are my dead friends

                                      kitsch is my dead flowers in the window

that I keep anyway

            kitsch is bad eyeliner

kitsch is how I dance

               all elbows and stomping

  kitsch is dinner at my house                                    

                                             late, rich, and far too much   

kitsch is my body                                     

                      far too fat                                       

            far too scarred                                        

far too ugly                                                        

                               kitsch is my love

                    reckless and fast

kitsch is history from the perspective of the victim                  

kitsch is music sung from a grieving mouth             

                     kitsch is staying up way too late to watch YouTube videos

kitsch is late for my appointments  

  kitsch is curved and hurting

  like my spine

                                               kitsch can't stand up when it's cold

                                                               kitsch cries with me when I'm in pain

                                             kitsch bleeds with me when my veins won't clot

      kitsch cries with me when I'm depressed

and the world is like a leaden sinker             

dragging me down                                                 

                       kitsch is glitter on my pillow

          that's what I want

                                           allowing a suffering world to be beautiful

                                         in the face of such incredible hatred and violence

kitsch is the messiah                                              

who fucks so gently                                      

and kisses to tenderly                         

and tells us that everything   

is going to be          

alright          

-o0o-

When a friend gives you music...

has a friend ever given you music

introduced you to new songs

and you've enjoyed it so much it

caused pause

those throngs like tem-po-ed heartbeats

plucked tendons in your arms

compelled to move by new charms

this is not so much a poem

more an observation

the effects of music shared

and my obvious elation

(Damn it, friend, I want to work, and I've been dancing to this stuff all morning.)

-o0o-

Tip

and I...

tilting my eyes downwards

sideways

askance

I looked at the thing dangling somewhat

and it...

over-ended on the side of my desk

tilting dangerously

and rolling

edge--edge

here--here

the contents spat out on the mat

and it...

that cup beginning that final moment

when the world's fingertip

Old-Newton's call

pawing at the little ceramic sconce

pulling

beckoning

urging its fall

and I...

intrigued by the ebb

and the effortless beauty

of the rolling pearl

that disengorged my mind 

into the air

i found myself ticking

left/right as a clock

in echo of the hollow shell

and I...

mirror to it

twined by its yaw

caught it before it fell

for fear of breaking myself

-o0o-

Meaningful Painting

in one colour
as this brush
pushed and pulled
pain plastered like putty
that squashy feel it gives
visceral
sexual
painfully immanent
one colour
simple art
the brush the plough
to texture the field
my hand a horse
to labour at the ostensibly valueless
and the farmer?
strangely absent
there will be no crops this year

-o0o-
Sent via my BlackBerry from Vodacom - let your email find you!

Guitar

Tap! Tap! Fingers running
...down the jagged edge.

Calloused fingers stuck between 

...the strings just like a wedge.

-o0o-