AFRICAN DREAM
By Wayne Visser
My Africa!
As white-hot skies give way to bloodshot red
I breathe a sigh and rest my laden head
As dark descends and blinking stars pierce through
I close my weary eyes and dream of you
I dream a dream of genesis
Of teeming wildlife on the plains
I hear a tale of Eden’s bliss
Of sparks of knowledge fanned to flames
I dream a dream of beating drums
Of painted caves and hunters’ bow
I hear the voice of ancient ones
Who weave the web of what we know
I dream a dream of exodus
Of journeys over land and sea
I hear the song of restlessness
That swells with longing to be free
I run with cheetahs, graze with deer
I hunt with lions, know no fear
I soar with eagles, hide in dales
I swim with dolphins, sing with whales
I throb with music in the air
I see the swirl of rainbow flair
I feel the stomp of dancing feet
I sweat with fever’s tropic heat
I gaze into the firelight
I sit in silence, pure delight
I listen to the elders’ words
I rise upon the wings of birds
The rivers are flowing
The brown dust turned to green
The harvests are growing
In my African dream
The fathers are yearning
The mothers’ love redeems
The children are learning
In my African dream
The peace-buds are blooming
The hope-streets freshly clean
The love-stalls are booming
In my African dream
As visions fade, all blurred and bled
My world unwinds like loosened thread
As daylight breaks and jet sky turns to blue
I wake refreshed with glorious dreams of you
My Africa!
Sunday, 27 June 2010
Monday, 14 June 2010
woke up today
‘The arrivals’ portal codes have been over ridden,
Here’s to my super connection nodes in the stamp of life from which they rendered sober vision…’
Lone-gone-cold-turkey-‘quick-snaps’ clear stand the crackling fire,
Best beat the hearts heartbeat and blow this breath through a longhorn-horn to warn you few and upon call your messiah, chayote grown version of a tame Tarzan stands the harsh outback and sends his cackling laughter… ‘Casual-counters’ consider him a coot brute of no use for he wont save their virgin born captive
‘Woke up today and saw how it comes, it creeps.
It comes in a bottle or can,
To poison the remnants of suns as the children of forgotten man…
Tames the women wild, hearts and all,
And takes rule of the palm of my hand’
A portion of hell took loose late after a ‘so tired’ unsuspecting mother discovered her hard earned papers’ worth in proper possessions was in sorts of stunning waste… the mother stood to momentarily marvel, murmuring moods at the maddening mess in a stupendous and angered state, shelved her marvel in silence, shrugged, muttered a stutter and surely shuddered…
‘I now know who my Mother is, that is; I’ve come to know her person.
I am my Queens physical memory and the blood of my King,
If I come to forget why I’m alive in this vision, and where from my soul has been,
Her struggles strife would surely worsen.’
From this then stuck his hand into one of the sporadically timed spontaneous wormholes to retrieve this tired soul, grounded solid, bound earthly, the tamed Tarzan retired bound for dimensions beyond the minds perceive…
‘She goes by name of Woman, Queen whose Son’s by Fire-hidden,
She goes by name of Daughter and Flame,
She paints her face in Green, Red and Golden stripes…
She calls them Art of Woman.
I heard…
She wakes to cry then blinks to see the thief we eye,
Then wipes her face with black again, to call this Art by Woman.’
Surly some sprites sprout to the amusement of my eyes reflection,
So as to see the bridge of the nose that boards this pass to the grass,
But not what sees the slightly pronounced bridge of their noise soaked thick by the hardness glass hustle, and the illusion that then cracks when they pass…
‘I’ve seen the sky for what it is from where it lies in the west and kept to the rising sun,
Looked in the mirror to see if we were really there, truly here in fear…
Looked if we wished to see, then they looked now you neither see nor hear…’
So after realising his opponents’ move, he reversed time to counter his opponents’ move, only to reverse time again to counter his opponents next revised move without his points convincing prove…
‘Now what’s your perception? Your meaning in Africa that is, not the land I hope… she is a people, those that first came with the memory of God and is by them close to the name of God and that’s the point she proves…’
Here’s to my super connection nodes in the stamp of life from which they rendered sober vision…’
Lone-gone-cold-turkey-‘quick-snaps’ clear stand the crackling fire,
Best beat the hearts heartbeat and blow this breath through a longhorn-horn to warn you few and upon call your messiah, chayote grown version of a tame Tarzan stands the harsh outback and sends his cackling laughter… ‘Casual-counters’ consider him a coot brute of no use for he wont save their virgin born captive
‘Woke up today and saw how it comes, it creeps.
It comes in a bottle or can,
To poison the remnants of suns as the children of forgotten man…
Tames the women wild, hearts and all,
And takes rule of the palm of my hand’
A portion of hell took loose late after a ‘so tired’ unsuspecting mother discovered her hard earned papers’ worth in proper possessions was in sorts of stunning waste… the mother stood to momentarily marvel, murmuring moods at the maddening mess in a stupendous and angered state, shelved her marvel in silence, shrugged, muttered a stutter and surely shuddered…
‘I now know who my Mother is, that is; I’ve come to know her person.
I am my Queens physical memory and the blood of my King,
If I come to forget why I’m alive in this vision, and where from my soul has been,
Her struggles strife would surely worsen.’
From this then stuck his hand into one of the sporadically timed spontaneous wormholes to retrieve this tired soul, grounded solid, bound earthly, the tamed Tarzan retired bound for dimensions beyond the minds perceive…
‘She goes by name of Woman, Queen whose Son’s by Fire-hidden,
She goes by name of Daughter and Flame,
She paints her face in Green, Red and Golden stripes…
She calls them Art of Woman.
I heard…
She wakes to cry then blinks to see the thief we eye,
Then wipes her face with black again, to call this Art by Woman.’
Surly some sprites sprout to the amusement of my eyes reflection,
So as to see the bridge of the nose that boards this pass to the grass,
But not what sees the slightly pronounced bridge of their noise soaked thick by the hardness glass hustle, and the illusion that then cracks when they pass…
‘I’ve seen the sky for what it is from where it lies in the west and kept to the rising sun,
Looked in the mirror to see if we were really there, truly here in fear…
Looked if we wished to see, then they looked now you neither see nor hear…’
So after realising his opponents’ move, he reversed time to counter his opponents’ move, only to reverse time again to counter his opponents next revised move without his points convincing prove…
‘Now what’s your perception? Your meaning in Africa that is, not the land I hope… she is a people, those that first came with the memory of God and is by them close to the name of God and that’s the point she proves…’
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