Satish Verma, 27 june 2013
Wanted to wear the grief uncrying,
sitting on the bank, counting the waves,
watching the swaying of earthen lamps.
There was a little water on the moon,
charged atoms settling in the lap of a sponge.
The water becomes the moon,
floating on goat's milk.
My descent starts to find the truth.
Where the water has gone from the eyes?
The mirrors always tell the lie.
The headless body writhes in the dust,
words change the author of a murder.
A crowd finds a knife only.
Once again a century weeps!
Satish Verma
David de la Croes, 26 june 2013
Golden sun rays flow
above the clouds - and below
silver linings glow.
Gert Strydom, 26 june 2013
My Lord, I am devoting my whole life to you,
I have sworn a sacred oath to be true,
you affect my life, my every breath,
if it is necessary even my death;
I do consider you in all that I do,
I am devoting my whole life to you.
Gert Strydom, 26 june 2013
While my days were only solitary,
my destruction came at the greatest speed
while demons, humans descended on me
with their utmost kind of malignant greed
I prayed while my life was in waste,
to come to my salvation in great haste,
while day by day was only passing by,
while everything was just working out wrong
while it felt as if you did not hear any cry
I asked my God, how long still, how long?
At your mercy desperately waiting,
waiting for anything to be happening
while I did not comprehend the designs
of your plans for my life, for my future
when I could not find any positive signs
of hope or salvation, not a feature,
against my common sense I still did trust
that overnight my life you could adjust,
even when my own efforts were in vain,
at your very feet salvation I did claim
when my emotions only turned to pain,
believing the promises you proclaim
while continually I tried and headed on,
trying to remain sincere, true and strong,
when in no human face I could find grace,
or find a person or place where I belong,
when I could not wander from place to place,
when even friends were doing me much wrong,
God, I was down on my knees before you,
still insisting that you had to be true.
Alicja Kuberska, 25 june 2013
It seems to me,
I know her from somewhere.
The familiar eyes look at me.
A smile lights up her face.
She holds a diploma in hand
and believes that she can easily
change a man and the world.
Naive girl.
Young mother
Matured with love.
Secrets of the night were to be
The happiness of days.
Woman in suit.
Screw of corporations.
Sells her soul for pennies.
One day she will wake up.
Time is merciful
It steals moments from memory
Leaves only small fragments
and whispers of her
Gert Strydom, 25 june 2013
“Its not much fun to be alone,” said she
“but two who stick together can help each other
out of all kinds of jeopardy,
but then I am silly and why would you bother?”
Suddenly with her the whole world looked merry
as she was smiling at me and I thought she was lovely.
Gert Strydom, 25 june 2013
(after Christina Georgina Rossetti)
My heart does no more belong to me,
as in loving I have given it to you
where it grows in sweet tranquillity,
as tender well-cared plants often do.
My heart is like an iridescent shell
that is swept out to your feet with the swell
in the waters of the endless blue sea,
in which the sounds of joy is whispering
with the great magic as life ought to be
but still my heart stays a delicate thing
that at times you do call your very own,
while we experience joys somewhat unknown.
Proclaim your love as something eternal
while we wander under cobalt blue skies
opposing everything dark, infernal,
while happiness is reflected in your eyes
as you have come to live in my own life
as my angel, my lovely sweet wife.
Gert Strydom, 25 june 2013
Somehow I am free from the whims of youth,
from some vanity, from some recklessness
are living a life with serenity and truth
away from the sheer pains of faithlessness,
in the magic of your enchanting love
that no other woman can now remove.
Our love and happiness always burst out
like small branches on a pollarded tree
as together we both do bring about
a change to life, to how things are to be,
while we do both hate being apart
as we are joined right up to the heart.
Satish Verma, 25 june 2013
This was a raw thing.
A paranoid template for AK-47 rifles. The
homemade bombs were planted on the roadside.
A very explosive blend of a fedayeen. You
cannot take it anymore this jihad. In everyday
life inside comes out in the graveyard. It drizzles,
the fake beliefs.
A bleak panaroma. Pansexual desire. Black
boulders, reddish cheeks,
moon falling on so many of stars!
I want a burntout sun.
Satish Verma
Salvatore Ala, 24 june 2013
I went to Ambassador Park,
What an eyesore that petroleum coke.
If Zug Island wasn’t displeasing
With its Windsor boom and toxic look,
Now they let petroleum peddlers
Dump their junk on the downtown river.
This is what they think of people.
This is what they think of the earth.
When did that neighborhood
Become an industrial site? First the riots
Then recession and the crash.
Didn’t anyone pick anyone else up?
If Detroit is hell on wheels
With incinerator and coke piles
It’s hell in sky and water.
Tankers load up with thermo-crack,
A cloud in the river spreads
Like an oil slick big as the cloud.
West of us sundown is ablaze,
That’s the sunset of a non-earth.
Poetry
Prose
Photography
Graphics
Video poems
Postcards
Diary
Books
Handmade
