Poetry.

There are words with such power

they echo in the far reaches of my soul,

from those arid spaces that lack any signs of life,

to those enveloped with ecstasy and love.

There are words with such heat

they infuse all my emotion into one flaming ball of anger,

or melt icicles of pain in even the most hardened heart.

There are words with such majesty

they grace my being with an angelic flow

creating tides of arrogance

that drown all inhibitions and fears.

Of all these words

the best are simple,

for simplicity is the mother of all things great.

Thabiso Nkoana©2000

The Romantic Hoffmann.

I have sat with this paper by E. T. A. Hoffmann on Beethoven’s Fifth Symphony in C minor and pondered on it for a few weeks now.  It has led me to more questions than answers.  Questions like, “What is hermeneutics and semiotics?  How much of the author as a Romantic novelist has informed his writings?  What is Romanticism?  And who is E. T. A. Hoffmann?” In this essay I begin with the latter.  It is my guess that knowledge of the author, and particularly his literary works, will pave the simplest path for the task at hand.  The task is to expound the grounds of Hoffmann’s assertion that Beethoven’s music is romantic. A question I will not attempt to answer is who Beethoven is.  I will indeed make references to his music where necessary, as this is what the task demands.  This will of course aid in answering the first question too, “What is hermeneutics?”  What concerns this writer particularly is Hoffman’s assertion that,

“…If we are speaking of music as an autonomous art form, instrumental music—not vocal music—is what truly counts: the more removed from language and from the sensible world, the better” (Cassedy, 2010:2).

The Mowbraians of the South.

There is a tale told by Mowbraians of the south, a spirited people with an innate hunger for knowledge.  It is the tale of The Uncle and The Alc.  The Alc had long been a close confidant of The Uncle, having seen him through his unpleasant divorce; the loss of his love life, his menacing narcotic rehabilitation, his stint beneath St. Andrews street, through it all The Alc had been close to his heart.  To cure headaches in the mornings and warm the back at night, to grease the tongue in the evenings and cool the chest at noon, The Alc was there.  One morning The Uncle asked why The Alc had been so loyal?  Even though The Uncle had on many occasions turned his back on The Alc.  The Alc smiled a bright and wry smile, shook his body and took of his hat in an elaborate display of swagger and sighed, “I own you.”     

Thabiso Nkoana©2013

Untitled… (Sonnet 17, Q9)

Is there a way to veracity

not laden with malicious snares?

Is the endeavour for honesty

one the minority has to bear?

Does the superlative umpire

know the extent of imperfection?

Senses forever fuel desire

feebleness yields a failed election.

Rhythm.

1. High natural reality
2. Condensing maturity young
3. Understanding that intensive energy
4. Young reality natural
5. High condensing maturity
6. Energy intensive understanding
7. That natural high
8. Reality condensing intensive young
9. Maturity energy high intensive reality natural understanding that condensing young
10. High natural reality
11. Condensing maturity young
12. Understanding that intensive energy

Colours.

What if amber meant stop

red meant go

and green meant caution?

Then stop signs would be yellow.

What if green were blue

and blue was green?

Then blue would be caution

and the sky green.

What if brown was gold

and gold was black?

                           It is.

Thabiso Nkoana©2012

Livity.

Dear Life,

I must begin by stating how disappointed I am by you.

Your sweet aroma now dulled to the state of stale tobacco breath.

You continue to bless the blessed

& curse the already suffering.

You behave whorish

but unlike our beloved skanks

who will gladly hoe their non-elastic pussys

to any man

for the close to kind gesture

of two Blacks & a gwai

you reserve yours

for polygamous liars

who capitalise

on paraffin buyers

DINTSHANG? 

Untitled…(Listen)

The problem is:

no-one wants to listen

but I’m on a mission

killing and dismissing

on your mind I’m just pissing

kaffir you’re fishing

no offence I’m just mixing

al hierdie worde is nou my kussing

thlaloganyo ya ka

ke re ga gona yo ya setseng

take a breather, I’m expecting

shit they are not getting

the mental blessing

but once upon a time

it was said

The problem is:

no-one wants to listen

listen, listen, listen…. 

Crime Creates.

A new beginning

forced by words stolen

A new beginning

initiated through soothing verbalization

A new beginning

once again back to front

A new beginning

granted poetic license

Love Doesn’t Die.

I must apologise

if I’m to keep up

with lies

I must apologise

if I’m to keep up

with alibis

I must apologise

if I’m to keep up

with capitalist compromise

I must apologise

if I’m to keep up

with spiritual demise

Due North.

Hate Race

Despise Demise

Create Debate

Deny Comply

I hope you are reading

Park a pen

Write a life

Mark a friend

Bite a time

I hope you are speaking

Storm Eternal.

A rain dropped life into vastness

and it was illumined

There…

where senses of long forgotten secrete themselves

where butterfly wings forge waves upon which galaxies surf

where the elephant’s brass melody ignites suns’ cores

A breeze blew song into vastness

and it was augmented

There…

where blinks of fluid colour array themselves

where trees lifted an epoch under which time rests

where alps’ unconfined capering pirouettes planets’ psyches

The clouds are calling

The sands are falling

The spirits are warming

Eternal storms.

Thabiso Nkoana©8/3/2013

Love :)

There was once a not so young man

living in a not so far land.

His life was not so average,

a pleasant being whose sole goal was to keep others happy and smiling.

He had a large heart

and wonderful mind,

which had both been tainted by the friends of Life,

Trial and Tribulation.

On a not so beautiful day

having a not so easy chat with himself

while sitting on a not so large rock

Love came by and asked the not so young man,