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| LitNet is ’n onafhanklike joernaal op die Internet, en word as gesamentlike onderneming deur Ligitprops 3042 BK en Media24 bedryf. |
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Jesus, Back From The Desert
Aryan Kaganof
I stumbled into a drug-free zone
Got a good deal on a glass of imbibable liquid
Chemically treated to resemble the juice of an orange
The young man behind the oval-shaped pine-top bar
Counter traded me for a note of gaudily printed paper
Called money. This serious looking chick yelled out
“I’ll have another one of those” and broke out into a
Buck-toothed smile when the alcohol raped her taste Buds. All of this hazy action
was merely a prelude
To the dirty dancing that I felt certain was in store.
I deserved it, my time out in the sand dunes was over.
I was surviving on vitamin C and self-respect,
Always a good combination. Friday night was
Threatening to elbow out the dusk – it has a way of
Doing that, abruptly, with a remorseless gesture of
Contempt. The Friday night always barges in with
Unequivocal intentions: drinking, dancing, and then,
bury the hatchet. Shooters and beats leading up
To the dangerous part: the ultimate action.
After 40 years out in the dust pile
Finally
I came back to pop
And every one of those lifetimes
Wasn’t me
Only this is me
Every single reincarnation
Was merely an increment
Of who I’m going to be
When I grow up
I want to be
A baby
O Babe
Your face was carved
Inside my soul
Your eyes of stone
Your marbled mouth
That kissed me from within
And even as you shook your head
Saying that none of this had ever happened
I pulled the ribbon holding
Your hair in place
And a waterfall sculpted itself
In layers across your bronzed shoulders
Yes, your body is the future
And in the time it takes for these words
To leave my tongue and cognitively
Impregnate your ears
With longing
I could have kissed you
Or killed you
Which is why
This poem must end here.
LitNet: 08 November 2005
Did you enjoy this poem? Have your say! Send your comments to webvoet@litnet.co.za,
and become a part of our interactive opinion page. Or submit your own poetry
to Michelle McGrane for consideration.
back / to the top
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© Kopiereg in die ontwerp en inhoud van hierdie webruimte behoort aan LitNet, uitgesluit die kopiereg in bydraes wat berus by die outeurs wat sodanige bydraes verskaf. LitNet streef na die plasing van oorspronklike materiaal en na die oop en onbeperkte uitruil van idees en menings. Die menings van bydraers tot hierdie werftuiste is dus hul eie en weerspieël nie noodwendig die mening van die redaksie en bestuur van LitNet nie. LitNet kan ongelukkig ook nie waarborg dat hierdie diens ononderbroke of foutloos sal wees nie en gebruikers wat steun op inligting wat hier verskaf word, doen dit op hul eie risiko. Media24, M-Web, Ligitprops 3042 BK en die bestuur en redaksie van LitNet aanvaar derhalwe geen aanspreeklikheid vir enige regstreekse of onregstreekse verlies of skade wat uit sodanige bydraes of die verskaffing van hierdie diens spruit nie. LitNet is ’n onafhanklike joernaal op die Internet, en word as gesamentlike onderneming deur Ligitprops 3042 BK en Media24 bedryf.
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