Poetry/Creative Outputs: KHULILE NXUMALO
I TELL YOU ONCE HOW IT BEGAN
i tell you once how it began
with a shimmer; small cracks appearing
in the picture
with a shimmer; small cracks appearing
in the picture
here in the streams running
inside my head, begging me
to rush ahead, no knowledge where i was meant to arrive
inside my head, begging me
to rush ahead, no knowledge where i was meant to arrive
I was to arrive, to bury the open grave of
my father ⎯
my father ⎯
who will bundle his grudges?
who will rig the lottery with me?
who has hope for the fog melting like an illusion
who will rig the lottery with me?
who has hope for the fog melting like an illusion
like I have faces that look like me dreaming?
i am him, i have prickly, have things spitting
at the tendrils amassed at my grip
i am him, i have prickly, have things spitting
at the tendrils amassed at my grip
he’s not there, to edge his face closer to me
there’s this tear
i hear
there’s this tear
i hear
as most of my eyesight
is ripped
is ripped
*
it’s been long after i’ve left
the tubular throats of the sabc
built, one can say, so that no-one hears
the tubular throats of the sabc
built, one can say, so that no-one hears
with erect policies
with voices from a pulpit
and those plastic dungeons
with voices from a pulpit
and those plastic dungeons
now my mind has started to
sing with work that hangs still
on washing lines
and an exhausted jhb city
sing with work that hangs still
on washing lines
and an exhausted jhb city
has been painted
with visions
with missions
so many times.../
with visions
with missions
so many times.../
*******************************************************************
IN THE TIME/ BLIND SIGHT /IN THE NIGHT/ CORONA
(WITH ME PEEPS, 2020)
With Water
(Aroha-eb-ikigai-oikos-ubuntu)
(Aroha-eb-ikigai-oikos-ubuntu)
In water the taste of bread
That is the skin
The skin that has no voice
That has no inner light
But like the water and the moon
Is all reflection
Of what we imagine
The light of definition
Thrown back at the eyes
Surface
The watchtower made
Of a shape in rain
And pointing
Like a finger
To where the smoke will always
Go
After the burning
And the way the clouds
Say nothing all the time
The more I stare
But won’t be one thing
Ever.
***He wanted the sun and moon,
Ever, only.
He wanted the sun and moon,
Ever, only.
The wind lies asleep in his head.
The word in his hand.
***The grass talks again and again
With its words rolled and rolling
Like a rushed language as always
Falling into tomorrow
With a world that keeps turning
Over into the dark.
That is the skin
The skin that has no voice
That has no inner light
But like the water and the moon
Is all reflection
Of what we imagine
The light of definition
Thrown back at the eyes
Surface
The watchtower made
Of a shape in rain
And pointing
Like a finger
To where the smoke will always
Go
After the burning
And the way the clouds
Say nothing all the time
The more I stare
But won’t be one thing
Ever.
***He wanted the sun and moon,
Ever, only.
He wanted the sun and moon,
Ever, only.
The wind lies asleep in his head.
The word in his hand.
***The grass talks again and again
With its words rolled and rolling
Like a rushed language as always
Falling into tomorrow
With a world that keeps turning
Over into the dark.
It is silent in the satellite station, tonight.
.... to how change can make a new stamina
swelling
harmattaning the sea
come here
come here to the lighthouse
it laughs at the sea
i know the hard
burning of stones
when you revolve
around an ever
turning hellfire
unscathed
because forward the light pulls
i am coming to the watchtower
after i get there we must all tell
our children stories
Foretows(23/04/2020)
i.
...the monsters
...the monsters
they grow , and have outgrown my flesh to march to the sound
of your percussions in plastic
my capacity for kindness is devoured
bon apartheid...
of your percussions in plastic
my capacity for kindness is devoured
bon apartheid...
.... /umzi watsha!
umzi watsha... /...
umzi watsha... /...
in south south africa africa where is africa
nowadays, right
nowadays, right
lovers, mining workers guided by shortened lights
thrown us down, make us a tireless as the night
a homeless dust has now colored all of today.
thrown us down, make us a tireless as the night
a homeless dust has now colored all of today.
ii.
River of helop
Ants, ants ‘calling out all/underground creatures
Listening to them
This will make us overcome, noise pollution
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Qudus Onikeku
Mamela Nyamza
Nduduzo Makhathini
iv.
A year and a so
after she had moved
she began living in
after she had moved
she began living in
where the roads were never in a hurry
where bass guitars had necks that were never long
we walked the century before we were born
we brushed past the arunnaki god connection
we milked eclipses and full moons, we saw how the aliens
where bass guitars had necks that were never long
we walked the century before we were born
we brushed past the arunnaki god connection
we milked eclipses and full moons, we saw how the aliens
are the ones
that must come
to rest, completely, it has been so many centuries, so many apexes
that must come
to rest, completely, it has been so many centuries, so many apexes
i will make her the film
inside a forest that she lives in
with its very green leaves
inside a forest that she lives in
with its very green leaves
those that were breathed
and came out
from the tawny spiral
out of her back
and came out
from the tawny spiral
out of her back
behind her
i was always burning with hairy breathes
....and on.....
i was always burning with hairy breathes
....and on.....
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