That particular night I was bored
so it was a welcome surprise
a visiting jungian from europea talking at the theosophical lodge in
melville good biscuits, but gave me gas
had to find a quiet place to take a
blavatsky.
She spoke well, and I had to agree
when she spoke of the supression
of the feminine in our patriarchal society
and the battles of eros and logos.
she had a great body too, i thought.
Stayed for the discussion after,
said I thought the mass media contributed to
the devaluation of the feminine principle,
got home to new wave hookers 3
on DVD.
i think you're bored with us
you're too clever for us
why do you play pool with us?
i guess you need us
to use as fodder
for your next poem
secrets
are the glue
of friendship
not the secrets friends share,
but the untold ones.
there's this myth that
true friends should tell each other everything
well i'll tell you a secret,
that's a damn lie.
my father traded my mother,
after he'd crashed her a few times
for the proverbial newer model
at 14 i ran away
lost in the streets of johannesburg
mind blown on acid
hanging with rich peoples gardeners
who took me in
to the backyard shebeens
fed me pap
sure, i was a kaffir-boetie
we'd commiserate or go berserk
somedays i'd ride with
the rubbish-boys on their rounds
i spent my youth in gauteng servants quarters
playing reggae on broken guitars
chased by the dutchmen
sure, i was a kaffir-boetie
a kaffir boetie
sure, i was a kaffir-boetie
a kaffir boetie was i
