the izm –


In the beginning
All was there
Eating the fruit
Broke the love affair
Of man and his maker
Woman her nature
God could not be found

Among the chaos
Noah rose up
Building an ark
In the midst of dry land
Two by two
They all went through
Forty days later
Survivors were few.

Many years later
Came Abraham
“Worship one God”
Was his programme
Nearly sacrificed his son
To show everyone
That a merciful God
Was indeed still around.

Then came Moses
“Let my people go!”
His consistent message
To the stubborn Pharaoh
Plagues hit the land
Sea parted by a hand
Grave for those
Who failed to understand.

Then there was Jesus
A virgin conception?
He walked the Earth
To change our perception
“I AM” the way
The truth and the life
Follow me and there
Will never be strife!

But put to death
By murderous man

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Woman’s World

In the branded supermarket, about to pick up the laundry detergent, he glanced at a face he knew. Long time no see! How how are you? Tell me about it, she replied. I’m alright you know. How are you? Managing affairs as we do he said. Her trolley rammed with food and sundries and his plastic basket minimal, they faced each other and began to chat as people went about their shopping.

Do you see anyone from school? Do you still go clubbing? How is work? How are the kids? Girls or boys? 3 boys she said. They can cook, wash dishes, dust and polish, hoover… they never have to rely on a woman. That’s excellent he nodded in but she sighed.

To be honest, my eldest son’s girlfriend just sits down. He does all the work. Cooks, cleans, even irons. I can’t believe it. I didn’t grow my son up to be a woman’s footstool. He’s no fool, her friend inquisitively prompted. It’s a woman’s world.  Man’s power is eroding and I am not complaining.

Well, I am not happy about that she said. I don’t want a woman to take my son as a tool. With power becomes responsibility he said, shrugging his shoulders and smiling. She smiled back. Time pressed.

OK she said. Nice to see you again. She raised her hand formally to shake.  He expressed surprise. I thought you only shake hands now, she said. Oh no. We go back from school he requited, then they cuddled each other and went about their shopping.

Heat Wave


Sweat envelopes her
Undraped by the sea
A shade degree
Higher than before

Like a naked Queen
Publicly disrobed
She sucks in sustained
Tropical air

Her black hair soaked
She flaps her breasts down
With light cotton blouse –
She cannot keep her

Pink pale legs still,
Her brain to bubble cool –
Licking her ice cream

Disrupted by a squabble
Of scavenging Gulls
And peering eyes that scan
Under a lumined sun.

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proper voice

iambic hexameters –
pentameters, dactyls
and spondees – right?
& spontaneously light

screening of Keats & Yeats,
Rumi, Joans & others
i get lost in the call,
my mind woven

strands of purple silk
deletes the technicalities
so i know nothing
Socrates said

screeching back
to the root of it all
the germ, soft touch,
your breath – – –


a proud moment attending with the Lord Mayor weighed down
by his heavy ceremonial chain in the banquet hall as he presented
her with two contour glasses for 25 years of government service.

her mother look puzzled, grabbed one and held it up
to the chandelier and flicked it. then she wet her finger
and gently swiped around the rim. not a sound. she frowned.
whatever happened to the carriage clock?

Man & the lion

The sun shone hot as normal. A quirky smell punched the caged compound. He was no fool around lions they said. He stepped inside the perimeter, but a lone lion chased & pounced, pinning the zoo owner to the floor instead – no escape. Onlookers scream as he is dragged into the bushes.

Give me three reasons why I should not maul you sneered the lion.

I’ve been caring for you since a decade – growing you up as my own, delivering high quality food on a plate, tending your health & medical bills – & – the lion blew a hefty sigh –

keeping you enclosed I have saved you from rabid beasts of the wild – man & predator, you & your offspring have been spared – & – the lion blew a heftier sigh –

I am your master. Oh yeah? exclaimed the lion & mauled the zoo owner anyway.

like art

among other slight possessions
that will outlive me is
the rubber plant in cream pot
sat upon the plastic window sill.

the ficus elastica shades
beaver fruit bowl filled
with tough lemons and oranges
brimming shine lost.

beyond the glass a Fir
forever green 80 feet tall
rooted in the grass. a man
walks past the chestnut
bricked loading bay quaint
in the background.

a magpie darts on its way
and the black bird sneaks
in the shrub.

i would like to name this tree
lime baby leaves springing forth –
if i google it i may paint
like art = a better picture

meanwhile –