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Tag Archives: politics

did you see the other houses down Memory Lane?
the time when you wondered
how the garlic and onions smelled and tasted?
the way they said they did when the others first heard of it

did it taste like they said it would
when it was first believed they did
when those who left Kermet,
those people of the Black Land
a land so black and rich
it was a dream so easy to pitch

so tell me, did you see the other houses down Memory Lane?
the last time you wondered there when it rained
and how will it look the next time you go again?
when you go there in their dreams…

we all go there

some of us never leave

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This is apparently a quote from Ken Peters, Professor of Economics in the Czech Republic.

“The danger to South Africa is not Jacob Zuma, but a citizenry capable of entrusting a man like him with the Presidency. It will be far easier to limit and undo the follies of a Zuma presidency than to restore the necessary common sense and good judgment to a depraved electorate, willing to have such a man for their president. The problem is much deeper and far more serious than Mr. Zuma, who is a mere symptom of what ails South Africa. Blaming the prince of the fools should not blind anyone to the vast confederacy of fools that made him their prince. The Republic can survive a Jacob Zuma who is, after all, merely a fool. It is less likely to survive a multitude of fools such as those who made him their President.”

the covers are worn
its leather looks frayed
the introduction is over
a new turn is paged

the next chapter begins
and the story unfolds, …again

and of the plot
who can tell?
an adventure delightful
or a horror story from hell?

There once was a sociopath name Zuma
Who couldn’t fuck up the country any sooner
He raped Kewzi, then us, we applauded, even jumped on his bus
File that in the annals of protest humour

we want, demand new government
but then we will want, demand again
and again we will demand to be free
free from the choices we previously made
and the circumstance that followed
we, the ungovernable
wanting to be governed
by a government who are themselves endemically ungovernable
demanding that they themselves are to remain unaccountable
to govern in freedom without external controls
uncontrolled by those who demand to be governed anew
to be governed by those who will listen to them
and do their bidding
so we vote again
and again
again

– seconds out!

round number: one million, six-hundred and twenty-eleven & three thousand

pop! go the cultures

*

the crowd are on their feat

suddenly, an unscheduled happening…

lights fail momentarily, but not unexpectedly (that’s the way we roll with Eskom)

the microphone squeals and the commentator takes the first press-ing swing

it’s a stiff jab and it finds its mark – well exceeding the quota system

the self-crowned champion stops in his tracks for a brief moment as if to catch his breath

“hehehehehehe” he chuckles smirkishly

he staggers back and shakes his head

everyone waits,

no one dares to speak

nobody thinks

*

then suddenly he scrapes his toe like a cleft hoof in the dust

defiantly, he charges…

like a bull…

CRASH!

*

round after round

objection after objection

rebuttal after rebuttal

head buttal after head buttal

back and forth the battle rages on

the champion stands firm

but – out of the crowd someone shouts

“the champion is falling…”

“the champion must fall!”

but no, he only stumbles for a brief moment

and then staggers

he turns to his corner and fires a few of his ‘seconds’

“he must fall” some spectators shout

“no, he mustn’t” say others

*

the judges object, …eventually

“we must go according to the rules!”

“what rules? …hehehehehehehe!” says the champion

*

points are taken away

…and then added on mysteriously

*

the battle rages on into the night

*

will cultural tribalism triumph over constitutional democracy

or will it all end in unresolved conflict outside the ring?

*

[break for advertisement – Big business make their presence felt]

*

new replacement seconds out!

round number “AGAIN!”

*

the battle rages on

sweat drips,

runs into blood

(thank God blood is a consumer commodity and easily tax deductible)

*

the clock ticks on…

years turn into days,

days into centuries

decades turn into decadence

unwritten history rewrites itself

*

deadlock

both contestants drop to the canvas

bloodied, exhausted, frustrated

fights break out in the spectator seats

*

chaos

*

the fighters leave the ring momentarily

while local boxing clubs realign regional constitutions

the janitor shuffles amongst the overturned seats

all that can be heard is the slow swish, swish of his broom

*

“a point of order! a point of order!”

“the chairs have been unseated”

*

“when the lights are out its the janitor who is President”

…the sweeper mutters under his breath

promises are promising
when the promise is made
but time is the judge of most things it is said
speaking with a forked tongue
cuts just as bad
as a stab in the back with double-edged blade

but who is the culprit
who could it be
the double talking promiser
or those who promise to believe?

a chameleon remains a chameleon
regardless of its colour
though it tries and tries
with all its might
to become like another
we can close our eyes
and clench our teeth
and hold our breath forever
but everybody knows
that culture grows
regardless of the smelly effect
it has on the nose

they speak with forked tongue
cleft of lip
a jump to the right
on a slow sinking ship
it sounds like drunkeness
but is far, far worse,
a snake would be envious
of the hiss of this curse
honey rots
before hitting the floor
no more sweetness is left anymore
bitter tastes on the children’s tongue
but the swines puke on
their bile not yet fully sung
they dance on the graves
of those gone before
they stagger to the trip
it’s the dance of the whore

flapping lips
flapping lips
giving us those useless tips

useless lips
useless lips
until the flapping finally tips

talking heads
talking heads
empty sleep on shallow beds

flapping lips
flapping lips
rudderless sailing ships

without a keel
without a hull
life out at sea is never dull

until you hear the deafening lull of…

flapping lips
flapping lips
giving us all those useless tips