Karoo scenes I

Often on these blazing roads
Trailing a mirage
Slowly rusted trucks reveal
Their soft plumed entourage.

Turning heads on swaying necks
Wide-eyed unknown fear
Teetering on slender legs
Scared ostrich twist and veer.

Panic muted panting
Gaping beaks in silent scream
Filamentous feathers swirl
That none shall e’re redeem.

Khoi descendants laugh and shout
Perched on structured rails
Keeping watch till journey’s end
Like hangmen do in jails.


Ditch the cheese, please!

How do I ask convincingly
Leave off all the cheese for me?
A Greek salad would be much better
Without the little lumps of feta

Won’t you be a decent fella
Dispense with all that mozzarella
Pizza does not need the goo
Made from mourning cows that moo.

I can live without a cheddar topping
On vegetables with sauce for mopping
Greens taste even better still
Without a sticky dairy thrill.

Although I’ve always been a fan
Of umami flavoured parmesan
Flakes of yeast can do the trick
And never make you feel so sick.

It’s quite a simple thing to ask
Omission’s such a passive task
But when those restaurants will insist
To add the cheese – I just get pissed!



Alas! I was the last of my kind
To wander this lonely planet
Slumped, weary, worn out end,
For millennia we were here
Presiding over vast plains
Filling our noble niche
Phantoms of power
Unsuspecting targets
Slain for gain
Now I am gone!
We are all gone!
With piercing finality
Deep sadness remains
Take my cursed horn
So proudly borne
Worth more than life
Leave my useless body
There is nothing left to harvest.


Where have all the lions gone?

There were always many to be seen
Tracks indicating where they’d been
Great roars echoed through the night
Exclaiming their iconic might.

Prides could be admired at ease
Round midday in the shade of trees
Or entertaining zebra feasts
Banquets for the king of beasts.

A thousand skeletons get sold
Worth more than twice their weight in gold
Discarded skin and entrails weep
In places where they used to sleep.

Pathetic paws and faces stacked
Near mangled feline bodies hacked
For some exotic conjured lust
Where dreams of power turned to dust.

Rumour has it some are kept
In cages where the angels wept
Waiting for that fateful day
Someone brings enough to pay.

Circus heroes came to town
Sadder than a fated clown
Sitting on a lonely chair
Gazing blankly in despair.

Guarded prisoners in the zoo
Hailed as forms of likeness true
Faded fire in every heart
Hopes of freedom tears apart.

Remember how things used to be
When creatures of the wild ran free
Life on Earth was such a ball
Till humans came and wrecked it all.



A mango always whets my appetite
With juices flowing at the sight
Of smooth and silky sun blushed skin
Holding tight the flesh within.

Its sensual form at once deserves
Stroking those voluptuous curves
From where the ripened stem exudes
Emissions stoking playful moods.

To peel away the bits that cover
The prize for every so called lover
Leaves me with a sense of glee
For parts once hidden now to see.

Moving in to take a bite
The taste is one of pure delight
Eating till I get my fill
Of sensuous flavours made to thrill.

It always seems there is no end
To drops that follow every bend
Trickling down my neck and arms
From the source between my palms.

Once begun there is no stopping
The flow of fluid spread for mopping
Up with tongue extended
Beyond the point where passion ended.

Despite the bush of hairs beneath
That end up stuck between my teeth
I love to chew around the pips
Then lick the remnants off my lips.

And when my lust is satisfied
The afterglow depicts the pride
Of having soaked up every drop
Of such a tantalizing crop.

Yet strangely there is always space
To take another fall from grace
Indulging Epicurean whims
For fruit that calls for cleansing swims.


The Unraveling

We don’t yet know the depths of deep despair
That will engulf us everywhere
When life in wondrous forms is lost
No calculations could reveal the cost
Of earth impoverished by human greed
Oblivious to the world we really need;
There’s something rotten at the core
Of those who can’t stand back in awe
To marvel at those wild delights
In nature’s glorious sounds and sights,
And when that ghostly silence reigns
Inducing tears and untold pains,
Man will grieve for all that’s gone
From acts that cannot be undone.


A Visit from St Francis

Twas the fight before Christmas, when all through the house
Every creature was stirring, except Santa’s spouse,
Whose stockings were flung by her mules with despair
In the hopes that the family would soon disappear.

The children had wrestled, now smug in their beds
With visions of ipads and games in their heads,
And mamma in bondage gear ready to snap
Had just pickled our brains and danced on my lap.

When out on the lawn the dogs had grown fatter,
From far too much junk food as health doesn’t matter,
Away to the hen house I flew there to slash
The throat of our turkey we’d named Ogden Nash.

The fat on the breast of the new-fallen snow-
Goose defied every concept of kindness we show,
When to our wandering eyes disappear
The plight of such creatures as piglets and steer.

With a little bold killer so deadly and slick,
I knew in a moment – it’s all been a trick!
More rapid than beagles in labs for the same
Ends hairs all bristled but no-one to blame.

Now rasher, enhancer of pasta and mix-in!
On vomit! On, stupid on, doner and bits-in!
To stop all the torture! To stop all the gall
Now back away! Back away! Back away all!

As wry thieves that before mild curried eggs try
To steal every one laid, don’t understand why,
So up to the tree top all slaughtered withdrew
An array full of poise, and their dignity too!

And when in a sprinkling of turd as a spoof
The dancing and singing provided the proof,
As I stuck out my head, to turn up the sound,
Down the farmyard rejoiced where new life had been found.

None dressed in fur nor with leather on foot,
And no clothes were tarnished by fibres that put
A bundle of ploys to get wool on the rack,
Or half naked geese whose warm feathers lack.

Their eyes how they twinkled and cackling how merry
Their peeps among roses, not yells from the ferry!
Their hand-to-mouth existence had shone with the flow
Of kindness and trust we have all come to know.

The stump of the beak and the clipping of teeth,
And the smoke that encircled the flesh underneath,
Had all been replaced by scenes on the telly
That shook as they laughed, no pigs turned to jelly.

Neither fillet nor rump, nor milk on the shelf
And I laughed at the tofu in spite of myself!
A drink or a pie, where none lost its head,
Soon tastes start to grow for the vegetable spread.

They spoke not a word, but continued to lurk
Still captured in prisons as slaves to hard work,
And laying down arms their captors all froze
And giving up cod, their karma soon rose.

They sang night and day of extreme views that bristle
With subversive compassion (praised lentils and thistle!),
But I heard them proclaim, ‘ere we forget their plight
‘Happy Christmas to all – keep up the good fight!’