Parasputin

Moving house

noreply@blogger.com (Parasputin) — Fri, 17 Sep 2010 15:53:00 +0000

thanks for your visits, comments and support. I'm moving to new premises at www.parasputin.wordpress.com

Sugar Cane

noreply@blogger.com (Parasputin) — Wed, 19 May 2010 14:51:00 +0000

"this will hurt me more than you"
you say those words again
"I do it to show I love you"
before you grant me pain
"nobody understands like I do"
as you wield your sugar cane

Castrato Mouse

noreply@blogger.com (Parasputin) — Thu, 10 Dec 2009 09:57:00 +0000

my ears feel blocked but pop with valsalva
mixed up beats with mixed up verse as well the
sound of drum punctuating thoughts
and the
syncopated rhythm timing rhyme
with my
dislocated words in
dislocated time
infinite designs tuned to
biotech hiveminds

that bell-shaped curve with its edges tweaked
Gaussian refined to edit and delete
conformity key, close to standard deviation
grey-suited cloned, controlled subjugation

meme-packed themeparks
"we'll sell you your dream" parks
castrato mouse ears emblazoned on
merchandise
while there are
no rag dolls to dry tears on kwashiorkor kids' little eyes

your ears feel blocked but pop with valsalva
close your nose while my rhyme blows
my voice getting louder

Listen...
Think...
Feel.

Counterfeit

noreply@blogger.com (Parasputin) — Wed, 02 Dec 2009 14:40:00 +0000

a grubby note changes hands
the oily sheen of your success
meets the sweat of my toil

"anything else?"

you may mock the question

but a necessary one in my line of work

not yours perhaps

my clients are not bound to me

by physical craving or need.

your phonecall
more important
than acknowledgment

of me

you wave dismissal

nonchalantly

your sneer clad in leather

your car seats leather once more

one last look at me through your open car door

sympathy? you need it more than me

this shop, this counter

not a trap or a cage

but a window, a barrier

between your world of chaos

and my world of peace.

Who, you may ask

is the zookeeper

and who the beast?

Who bona fide
or ersatz masterpiece?

Kop Les*

noreply@blogger.com (Parasputin) — Fri, 23 Oct 2009 16:16:00 +0000

just found out he died

pity

won't get to tell him,
that teacher of mine
that bruises on kids
cancel out
that one on your forehead

the blackboard duster
you used on my knuckles
"knuckle-duster" ha ha
your attempt at humour
you sadistic fuck
also wiped off all the stuff
the good moral lessons
off the blackboard of my mind

that blackboard ruler
the edge of which
marked my life-line
disturbed the rules
you held so dearly
and tried to enforce

If I could
would I punctuate
every fat'hah
dhammah
kasrah
of the lessons you got me to learn,
with punches to your head,
to your spittle-flecked beard
so you learnt
that this is not the way
you teach
or inspire
or treat a child?

Or would I embrace you?
show you I was the better man
despite your lessons
because of mine
Frailty your companion
your enemy, time.

so much I would tell you
so much I could teach you

just found out you died

pity

*Kop Les- Afrikaans, literally "head lesson", referring to memorising verses of Arabic.

wordshot,wordspawn

noreply@blogger.com (Parasputin) — Fri, 16 Oct 2009 09:25:00 +0000

Clock, tick tock
counts down
frown, words escape me
flock through too quickly
shoot them down
aim, fire
wordshot from both muzzles
some fall down
no word-dog, noun-dog to track them down
me trying to sniff them out
in the dark
the screen black night
did I delte?
should I delete?
did I just drop a line?
the space bar pressed but too much space
no reassuring cign on the desktop face
funny how we need to see what we think
read what we write
instead of just link
what we feel
to what we think
like what we piss
to what we drink.
a minute to go
need to see
not even an ultrasound view
of the words I have spawned
a glimpse of them thumb-sucking
before they are born.
20 seconds,
no now 15.
Oh well
it's done
Welcome to the world
little one

Free Writing Challenge

noreply@blogger.com (Parasputin) — Fri, 16 Oct 2009 09:16:00 +0000

I don't do tags. This is not a tag, it is a challenge, an exercise. Now that we've cleared that up, this is how it works:
a) choose a topic
b) set a timer for 5 minutes
c) switch off your monitor to reduce the temptation to edit
d) write continuously, no edits
e) post. I'll put my one up shortly.

Naturally

noreply@blogger.com (Parasputin) — Thu, 10 Sep 2009 07:58:00 +0000

You ask me how to write a song
how to get the notes to sound just right
to get the melody to ring true
when your voice is music to me

You ask me how to write a song
how to get the rhythm and the rhyme
to get the speed and the timing
when your heartbeat sets the tempo of my day

You're the ink on my page
and when I look at you
the words just come
naturally...
naturally...

You ask me how I tread the boards
how I remember all the words
how I cry like it really hurts
when you're my leading lady

You're the light on my stage
and when I think about losing you
the tears just come
naturally...
naturally...

Easy as it is to breathe
natural as it is to grieve
your love comes
naturally.

caffeinity

noreply@blogger.com (Parasputin) — Fri, 31 Jul 2009 21:08:00 +0000

espresso frenetic
slowed down
to drip feed
efficiency of function
more important than speed

I bide my time though
I rest my mind though
latte lax
cappuccino content
enjoying the moment
savouring each drop
ignoring the grounds
at the bottom of the cup.

ego unwound

noreply@blogger.com (Parasputin) — Thu, 11 Jun 2009 08:33:00 +0000

Sunset
Maghrib
the world spoke in hushed tones
curtains were drawn
while we climbed steps
to a shrine on the slopes
to wash in a stream
and pray
the words of our
impromptu imam
cushioned by layers
of green and red satin.

later, back on the beach
something happened that night
watched by 12 stone Apostles
and perhaps something more
without words
without warning
all of us
just
let
go

no music
apart from the wind
whispering "Allah"
and waves kissing sand
like lips mouthing "Muhammad"

and we whirled
not knowing what to call it
our hands and feet
moved us
and we followed

ego unwound

the night four came undone
and witnessed the One

Tissue- poetograph

noreply@blogger.com (Parasputin) — Fri, 15 May 2009 13:00:00 +0000

Imagist has some very good graphical interpretations of poems on his site. "poetographs" he calls them. I was curious to see which verse he would choose, and what he would do with it. Here is the result.

dead head daffodil

noreply@blogger.com (Parasputin) — Fri, 08 May 2009 14:20:00 +0000

dead head daffodil
the colour of a marigold
hair like a straw hat
shielding days-eye mascara
(should have read the smallprint
enhanced in post-production)
tweaked, toxed, filled and
enhanced post-reconstruction

your dreams of being centrefold
wither away
your grubby-nailed
sugardaddies
dither away

the only sums you do
are for your calories counted
your altar of worship
carved out of porcelain
meals not enjoyed
you watch them flushed away
clockwise? oh that means
it's Tuesday today
we did the Northern Hemisphere
the day before yesterday

dead head daffodil
the colour of a marigold
hair like a straw hat
shielding days-eye mascara
(should have read the smallprint
enhanced in post-production)
tweaked, toxed, filled and
enhanced post-reconstruction

thoughts light as dandelion fluff
driven away
worms nibble at your roots
slither away

time for you to sleep
time for you to dream
time for a dead head daffodil
to just
be
dead.

Caterpill

noreply@blogger.com (Parasputin) — Wed, 01 Apr 2009 15:09:00 +0000

deep breath
bombs away
then nothing
but a taste
like licking rollon
on an armpit
probably a dud
oh hang on
wait a minute

good morning moneypenny
put everything on hold

warmth in my belly
spreading soulward
fingertips turn to
neural whips
spine turns to jelly

i have to sit down
i have to lie down
my knees keep the rhythm
my pulse is the bass
the lights like strings
control my marionette face

a nod, recognition
not of face but of plight
we're all equal here tonight

a nod, recognition
not of race but of plight
we're all equal here tonight

until it wears off
until we slink off
cast our butterfly wings off
caterpillar to chrysalis
safety or loneliness?

tap tap tap

noreply@blogger.com (Parasputin) — Thu, 12 Mar 2009 15:57:00 +0000

tap
tap
tap
is this thing on?
are you ready to listen to me
wreck this microphone?

Alien race
alienate
alien vs predator
laying to waste
imperfect fruit dumped
in landfill
instead of dinner plates
what a disgrace
would Monsieur like a leetle taste?
just a wafer thin
just a wafer thin
your excuses are becoming
paper thin
looking within
looking without
McGeneration living
shovel to mouth

tap
tap
tap
is this thing on?
are you ready to listen to me
wreck this microphone?

minimum wage
yet maximum outlay
priority purchase is
an LCD tv
watching fake splintercourse
audiovisual foreplay
memory not needed
just rewind and replay
We'll tell you what to feel
tell you what to think
keep watching
keep watching
don't even blink
tv dinner plates
clutter the sink

tap
tap
tap
is this thing on?
are you ready to listen to me
wreck this microphone?

instant celebrity
a purse from a pig's ear
very nice, well done
but what do you do dear?
a shortcut to stardom
a cut-and-paste pantheon
so what if you really want it?
have you put in the time?
force out a tear
force out a tear
rehearsed shock, horror
instant pain and fear
have you slaved in the pits
have you waited in line?

tap
tap
tap
is this thing on?
are you ready to listen to me
wreck this microphone?

what do you mean am I done?
I've not even started
just clearing my throat
this is not the main part yet
You cut the power?
You'll still hear me.
I'll just scream louder.

tap
tap
tap

teleconflict

noreply@blogger.com (Parasputin) — Tue, 10 Mar 2009 17:53:00 +0000

Uploaded by www.cellspin.net

teleconflict

noreply@blogger.com (Parasputin) — Tue, 10 Mar 2009 12:13:00 +0000

(for the elusiveR who wants to interpret it herself, and for Nooj, who thinks I speak funny)

what?

of course i'm listening

yes

your voice is coming through clear

of course i can hear

You don't want answers from me

You want my assent

I'm trying to go all Zen

You're trying to vent

You try to find when this willow branch breaks

the more that it's bent

what?

of course i'm listening

yes

your voice is coming through clear

of course i can hear

I hear what you're saying
I just don't really care.

Modesty

noreply@blogger.com (Parasputin) — Tue, 10 Mar 2009 11:52:00 +0000

it's what the self-aware
are wearing this season:
a scratchy cloak of self-doubt
does my butt look big in it?

test

noreply@blogger.com (Parasputin) — Tue, 03 Mar 2009 12:01:00 +0000

Uploaded by www.cellspin.net

MOD blues

noreply@blogger.com (Parasputin) — Wed, 18 Feb 2009 08:03:00 +0000

met a boy yesterday

trying to be a man

finding Utnapishtim in a foreign land

met a boy yesterday

trying to be a man

finding immortality

with a gun in his hand

son won't you listen

are you trying to die?

"no I'm a killer" he said

with death in his eyes

met a boy yesterday

trying to be a man

finding Utnapishtim

in the back of his van

met a boy yesterday

trying to be a man

blown up by a landmine

in the back of that van

son won't you listen

are you trying to die?

"Sir, I have found him"

he said with death in his eyes

"I've found immortality

in my mama's cries"

said I met a boy yesterday

woof and weave

noreply@blogger.com (Parasputin) — Thu, 12 Feb 2009 15:41:00 +0000

Do you see the eyes
in the gap of my ski mask
see them burning
yearning?

Do you see the blood in the woof
and weave of the cloth?
fresh from the fingers of
the children time forgot.

I see your eyes
in the gap of your SWAT mask
I see them burning
yearning

I see the blood in the woof
and weave of the cloth.
fresh from the fingers of
the children time forgot.

We are brothers you and I,
bound by our pain and our need
yet kept apart by our wants
and our greed

if only we could see, through
the gaps in our ski masks
the gaps in our SWAT masks.
cleanse the blood from the woof
and weave of the cloth,
before we too become the children
time forgot.

Meanwhile Juxtaposition Adorns Dreams

noreply@blogger.com (Parasputin) — Mon, 09 Feb 2009 09:29:00 +0000

http://saaleha.com responded so admirably to my challenge, that I had to respond to hers. The poem was so good, it had to be chosen for an audio interpretation, which ended up being spoken word over trip-hop beats.

Her words.
I didn't reinvent the wheel, just polished the hubcabs.

Kroes, a reading by SBM, click to play the clip.

noreply@blogger.com (Parasputin) — Tue, 03 Feb 2009 20:55:00 +0000

The challenge was to record a soundbyte of her reading the poem. Enjoy.

Meantime

noreply@blogger.com (Parasputin) — Tue, 03 Feb 2009 09:35:00 +0000

in the meantime
the betweentime
of tick
and tock

the space between
the littlest dots
on the clock,
I long for you.

And yet
you doubt.

kroes

noreply@blogger.com (Parasputin) — Tue, 27 Jan 2009 16:51:00 +0000

kroes
ja ek weet
wat kom se jy vir my
van natural?
Natural se ma se
ek ken ook van GHD
my swirldoek is cheaper
en dit match my overall.

kroes
ja ek weet
is krulle meskien
'n sonde?
ek en jy weet
jy's ook lekker kroes
iewers daar onder.

But wait, there's more

noreply@blogger.com (Parasputin) — Wed, 14 Jan 2009 13:59:00 +0000

Tagline
Tagline

Hook-line-and-sinkervision
media-wrapped up in enforced
teleblinkervision

We give you opinions
make you forget
affect your decisions
buy our products
no regrets

dark skin? "Go-liter"
light skin? "Go-tan"
lose weight
gain weight
straight hair from curly
curly hair from straight

Tagline
Tagline

Hook-line-and-sinkervision
media-wrapped up in enforced
teleblinkervision