Genesis by Wayne Visser

GENESIS

Out of the void of anticipation

Out of the time before time began

Out of the fire that sparked creation

Out of the earth that rooted a clan

Africa swirled

Africa spun

Africa world

Africa one

Out of the lava of molten streams

Out of the swamps of fetid earth

Out of the semiotic dreams

Out of the soils of fecund birth

Africa rose

Africa spread

Africa chose

Africa bled

From frothing seas and putrid ponds

With plankton tide and Pisces spawn

Life bloomed and bred and burst with fronds

And oceans glowed with Darwin’s dawn

Africa yawned

Africa breathed

Africa formed

Africa seethed

From fertile plains and sandy shores

Some creatures crept and leapt to flight

With fleeting flanks and razor claws

While others learned to walk upright


Copyright 2012 Wayne Visser

I Am An African inspires as 2012 Grahamstown Festival in South Africa

Today I found out that my poem, I Am An African, featured in a dance show by the same title at the 2012 Grahamstown Arts Festival in South Africa. Here is the blurb from the official programme:

I Am An African

Festival: Fringe  Genre: Dance  Venue: Victoria Theatre

A theatrical dance explosion of rhythm, athleticism, artistry and entertainment. Technically awe-inspiring dancers unfold the intricacies and eccentricities of choreographic dance fusions. A foot-stomping, nail-biting, hand-clapping audience will marvel at the works of some of the proudest South African choreographers. This highly entertaining, proudly South African work is set to the hauntingly beautiful poem I am an African by Wayne Visser

Details

Duration : 70 minutes

Directed By : Kelsey Middleton

Choreographed By : Supa Zungu And Kelsey Middleton

Written By : Supa Zungu and Kelsey Middleton To The Poem Of Wayne Visser

Composed By : Aubrey

Performed By : Musicians in CHNA with Footprint

Featuring : Supa Zungu, Thabiso Khomo, Muzi Buthelezi

I'd like to get hold of the artists, so if anyone knows them, please put us in touch.

My Words

I use my words to express the sounds of the mute,

My words I use to give birth to the hopes carried within the youth,

This is poetry, just my heart singing words in tune…

I use my words to break the walls that hinder people to dream, dreamers dream dreams

My words I use to destroy disobedience that traps the visions of our Josephs,

This is poetry, just my heart signing words in tune…

With my words I enter forbidden territory, lines drawn to limit one’s faith,

I break the bond between destiny and fate,

Its poetry and words from my heart in tune…

My words possess the power to create and destroy, the authority given to me by the Spirit of the Living God

My words renew, restores, rejuvenates the said to be “damaged” walls of Jerusalem,

This is poetry, just my heart signing words in tune...

My worship, my prayer, my praise and my thanksgiving, all part of my heart

And through my words I sing them in tune.

-Hlogi

We Africans by Wayne Visser

I was listening to a track by the Nigerian legendary musician, Fela, and one of his phrases caught my attention - "we Africans" - two simple words that mean so much. I was inspired to write this poem.

We Africans

By Wayne Visser

We Africans

We, the spark of creation

We, first nation of nations

Remember us

For you flow from our ancestral streams

And your hopes are what mirror our dreams

We Africans

We, the crossers of high seas

We, the keepers of memories

Remember us

For you pulse with the blood of our veins

And you cry with the fear of our pains

We’re born, we rise

We open our eyes

We crawl, we walk

We’re learning to talk

We Africans

We, the fathers of hungry hands

We, the mothers of thirsty lands

Join with us

For your toil is sweat on our furrowed brow

And your guilt is shame for our here and now

We Africans

We, the sons of rusty chains

We, the daughters of dried-up rains

Join with us

For your suffering leaves tears in our eyes

And your great escape is our freedom’s rise

We plant, we reap

We strive, we weep

We serve, we slave

We hope, we brave

We Africans

We, the farmers of the plains

We, the hunters of the rains

Stand with us

For your food is our planted gorge

And your iron is our fiery forge

We Africans

We, the nomads of the sand

We, the stewards of the land

Stand with us

For your drink is our handpicked beans

And your wealth is our tunnelled seams

We dig, we drill

We bend our will

We melt, we mould

We bleed for gold

We Africans

We, the soldiers of the thorny cross

We, the seekers of the pantheons lost

Rise with us

For your chapels enact our daily sacraments

And your deities fill our starry firmaments

We Africans

We, the pilgrims of the crescent moon

We, the students of our earthly swoon

Rise with us

For your mosques echo our calls to prayer

And your mission is our promise to care

We kneel, we pray

We sing, we slay

We lift our pain

We praise His name

We Africans

We, the singers of life’s sorrow

We, the lovers of tomorrow

Reunite us

For your maps are our patterned mosaic

And your home is our ancient namesake

We Africans

We, the dancers of our freedoms

We, the voices of new seasons

Reunite us

For your culture is our rainbow display

And your genes are our twined DNA

We drum, we beat

We stamp our feet

We weave, we thread

We love, we wed

We Africans

We, the refugees of futile fighting

We, the tribes of lands uniting

Welcome us

For as you gain so we have lost

And what we give is without cost

We Africans

We, the migrants of opportunity

We, the leaders of the fair and free

Welcome us

For as we join as fragile friends

So we prosper in the end

We move, we tread

We search, we spread

We fit, we fight

We claim our right

We Africans

We, the archers of the starry sky

We, the askers of the question why

Celebrate with us

For the dawn is strung with morning dew

And our time has come to start anew

We Africans

We, the scatterlings of the rising sun

We, all proud Africans, every one

Celebrate with us

For our future fate is far from done

And we are all Africans, every one

Copyright 2012 Wayne Visser

African Idea by Wayne Visser

Just back from Lagos - my fifth trip to Nigeria in the past 12 months. Got me thinking about how Africa is as much a product of perception and imagination as fact and reality.

AFRICAN IDEA

By Wayne Visser

Africa wakes –

It boils and bubbles

It stews and steams

Swathed and swaddled

In wisps of melting mists

And the feathered blue skies

Of my inner eyes

This Africa –

Drenched in sun and sorrow

Stretched in time and place

Bridging north and south

Cleaving tribe from tribe

Birthing a prodigal progeny –

Alive in my mind

Africa moves –

It spawns and spews

It morphs and multiplies

Enhanced and entangled

In human chains of need greed

And white lightning webs

Of synapses firing

This Africa –

Shadowed in war and want

Bursting with light and longing

Dancing dust clouds around fires

Beating drum songs of desires

Endlessly en-route –

On my famished road

Africa sleeps –

It drifts and disperses

It seeds and suckles

Soothed and silent

In fields of ripening toil

And the wandering blotch-herds

Of scattered thoughts

This Africa –

Whispered in myths and mysteries

Cradling its loves and losses

Chanting with hope and defiance

Hawking praise and prophecy

Woven in patchwork tales –

Echoed in my prose

But is Africa real?

This Africa of mind and magic

This Africa of dreams and dust

This luminous continent

Glowing in the dark interior

Of my gold-threaded caves –

This Africa of my psyche

Is Africa fact?

This Africa of books and bards

This Africa of fables and fiction

This luscious land mass

Teeming with the wild life

Of my untamed frontiers –

This Africa of my stories

Is Africa true?

This Africa of tongue and touch

This Africa of nose and noise

This muddled melting pot

Spicing the pallid palette

Of my doldrum days –

This Africa of my senses

Yes! Africa lives –

Africa breathes and beats and blooms

Africa strives and thrives and jives

Africa shakes and aches and breaks

Africa weeps and rises and leaps

Africa sings and soars on the wings

Of my imagination

This is Africa

This is my Africa

This is my Africa imagined

This is my imaginary Africa

This is my image of Africa

This is my idea of Africa

This is my African idea

Copyright 2012 Wayne Visser

Letters to Myself... "Politically Concious"

My black nails,
Sing of wails that fail,
Because of an attachment,
So unattractive,
That fills me with pain,
In my blood vessels that pump with strain,
That burgundy liquid through scarlet flesh,
Through to my limp heart,
That fills with that pain,
From black nails,
That sing wails that fail.

Innocent fetus I have been,
But saved I have been,
For some it is not the same,
For some,
It is innocent fetus that has not been,
Aborted clear of the world,
I have breathed life,
An air of filth,
But I have breathed life,
I have been blessed to see love of a mother so destroyed,
But I have seen love,
With their slings they sting,
My spine whose strength I walk,
Through hills and valleys,
On land,
In the sea,
In space,
In my dreams,
My spine that enables me to bring,
The pennies of my sweaty brow,
The pennies of my swollen feet,
The pennies of my broken heart.

For longer than you and I know,
They have held the arrow and bow,
From their black nails like mine, they crow,
Like white masters that left so long ago,
We grieve over unfruitful seeds we sew,
That have been stolen right in front of our door,
And the thief has hands that are sore,
Possessed by greed and absent of compassion,
They threw it away and it landed on the floor,
Right in front of our door.

Do you love me now?
I am neither rich nor poor,
I am nothing in need of a cure,
Do you love me now?

Kavosa Assava

Letters to myself…To be who I am To who I am not.

If I could fit at the top of a mountain line,

I would seat and watch the world intertwine,

As people whined and sighed over life's unforgiving signs,

I would seat and watch as they intertwined,

As people burst in the confusion and twirled in inconclusive illusions,

I would seat and watch as they intertwined.

I wish so desperately for seconds in a day to be alone,

To remind myself of what I am in my soul,

For confinement in my mind rediscovering that person sole....LY,

Never letting go of what I have been told,

To chew and swallow all that the world throws,

Whether hot or cold.

Because around all these demons,

You forget your cute little ribbons

of innocence, that transform into little horns,

Of deceit,

Numerous characters of you you have built,

To paint little mirages of deceit,

Numerous tongues you have slipped,

Little words of deceit,

To deceive the demons,

But you only deceive yourself.

You are who you are when alone,

Unbathed by flowery scented oils that mask your odour,

Untouched by airs beyond your vacuum that blow away your delicate leaves,

So if I could seat at the top of a mountain line,

I would sing with the birds,

Breath with the trees,

Fly with the clouds,

For we would be who we really are