A Poet's Suicide Note - Reason AbledArtist

a poet's suicide note

by Reason AbledArtist 

 

the wind threatens to uproot everything standing on feeble foundations

if my soul flies with it to some far-flung sanctuary or floats around to fill mortal lungs with breath

before my flesh feeds the crawling creatures of the undergrowth, my conscious mind should part with these words:

if there was ever a genuine happiness in this life, it was of our will and doing

if there was ever a reality, it was moulded from the ribs of our aspirations

if indeed there was ever love, it must've been the phenomena that mimics our daily dreams and savours in our daily deeds

from this life i take nothing but my mind to be my only companion

and to my mother, i leave the body she bore to burry

to my friends, before my memory dissipates into small particles of nothingness, remember that i shared my dreams and my love with you

I'm Going Again, Searching - Reason AbledArtist

i'm going again, searching

Reason AbledArtist

i'm going again,
searching for people,
searching for love
as if
it were a paranormal
phantom hugging
the mountains

like grahamstown mist
of early morning drives
to peddie, emazizini

i remember those rides,
my brothers
emptying their bladders
on the outer side of the road

an excuse
to feel
the warm gravel
and grass wet
with dew

i'm going again
in search of my own
indescribable meanings,
the company of my own
inaudible rumblings,
under nights
characterised
by the reign of chipping insects;
a noise punctuated
by the sound of silence,
artificial stillness

i saw on television
a grieving
elephant mother
keep going back
to the already decaying
and partially eaten carcass
of her dead calf


as if to awaken something
in her own soul,

or kill something off
to enable
movement within

i'm going again,
to listen to silent voices
of my ancestors
speaking
ever so loudly
in my afrikan conscious

i'm going again,
to listen
to laughter and conversation
from people
whose reference
is not googled;
but experienced experience,
nature

i'm going again,
to be acknowledged
and exhumed
from this
'emerging black middle-class'
socially constructed
and construed
bullcrap
weighing a ton
on my shoulders,
like bones dug
from
the catacombs
of
unmarked graves

i'm going again,
because each visit
intoxicates
my heart
with hope
of truth
to be
revealed.
luzuko ka mdodana gongxeka wokuqala