Byeeeeee :)

Howl Wolf

We were always on the border of the fence,
Armed and muddy, all for honour and love.
Somewhere in between ricocheting shots
You sneaked out to the other side
Our border exposed, my men flailed
And hid in shadows of shame

So now, when you ask for our loyalty
I resist the urge to hang you on the fence
Parade your wounded comrades before your eyes
And leave you to their memories' wrath

Wandering hearts within butterfly nets

Source of pic

The soft, beat, beat, beating
Of butterfly wings against a net
Is the symbol of Life
As long as we beat, we breathe
When this ceases, our wings lose
Their need to live, and our hearts
Forget their need to beat

Dear 2008 and Mistress of Linguistics

I take my frames off your wall

Sandpaper my name off your ceiling

Each movement tingles a bit,

Like a plaster stuck on a fine hair

Now, when I drive past your street,

I will be just driving past.

These are just things, you insist

We will always be the same

But no, like a wise lyricist said,

“You can have the past, I’ll

Keep the Change”.**

So we must embrace this

I will not cry, this is His will

And you shine with anticipation.

Like a phoenix burns to ashes,

The buzzkill** singes, then arches

Like a solar plexus balancing on the

Pilates ball of Taqdeer

**Thanks to Waseem for these

World Aids Day

Aids. How it has spread. When I was six I had no idea what it meant. And now it has become an everyday term. I wonder what my children will think of the word.

What does Aids mean to me everyday?

Well in my work as a counsellor at a university of technology I hear stories of children growing up with the scary relaity of having to look after their sick parents. Of boyfriends dying and leaving their girlfriends with a terrible reminder of the relationship. Of amazingly beautiful women living with the disease for years and having boyfriends and dreams of white wedding gowns and laughing kids one day. Of paranoia over burst condoms and drunk one night stands. Of children being looked after by their grandparents in rural areas while their parents fork out a living in cities. Of clinics with pre and post test counselling services that are neglected by those in denial.

When i wrote this poem i was livid, I had become too emotionally involved with my clients, and someone rightly criticised it as playing right into moralistic stereotypical views of Aids. I admit, it does. But this has been my experience with the disease. Perhaps you have had others, more enlightening?