Metaphysical Introspection.

There is a time so freakish in its' dawning,

its' devilish grasp relentlessly chokes all of life’s charms.

This scorching time burns the soul so intensely

that it cries for Hades' hellish flames

eternal, yet comforting by comparison.

Like a sedated beast, the heart lies dormant during this time

shocked by the darkness of such reality.

This time is summoned, recruited from its' stagnant pool of despair

through a portal of misunderstanding

and sucked into a black hole; formerly our soul

by the too much feared action of introspection.

Thabiso Nkoana©2000

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.