My dearest friend I retrieved my old
fountain pen today to pour, on canvas
note papers my doubts, feelings
of dire necessity for I, need of you a favour.

I confess I find myself confused, in the mist
of nothingness unable to decipher my scope
at a crossroad blocked, in front of a sign
which says ‘Stop!’ .

Buxom lands enticing with chimeras
on my right, nature’s might sparkling splendours,
colourful vibrations I perceive, notes of purifying
silence echoing the songs of inhabitants untouched,

by mind queries existential enquiries it feels,
beautiful and lonely over there. Then again,

I see buildings reaching for the skies
on my left, lights bright, people frantically in motion,
they seem to have a purpose and a mission,
places to go, things to do, dreams to make come true.

Some of them create oeuvres revealing grandeur it feels,
challenging and crowded over there. Yet ahead,

of me are unfolding sceneries of possibilities awaiting
as I loiter and expect, your card a few words
I beg of you of inspiration but, please hurry my friend
as a line is about to turn into a jam, behind me.

My precious me I received your letter
with affection comprehending qualms.
Do not dwell any longer for your confusion
is unfunded. The nothingness you feel

does not exists all is, perpetually becoming
including us human beings, fragile creatures
uncomprehending the essence of our journey
yet eager to select, a direction giving sense,

of control not of purpose. Though you are
at a crossroad know you are not compelled
to choose, you can have it all by giving up
control, let your spirit lead you where it wills

and bare in mind, to be happy and just all the time.
Treat your likes with kindness and keep smiling,
look forward for what you call “ahead” is only
a matter of perspective. Yours sincerely, me.

I will be born in fourteen hours
thirty-seven years ago,
from the labour of my mother
into Doctor Lucatelli’s hands.

How could I have known or did I
the amazing wondrous life reserved,
the privileges in store the blessing
of a consciousness that dares.

I will be a happy child, emanating joy,
adults and elders will listen to my stories
imbued with my essence, imbrued in fantasy
sparkling smiles.

In my teens they will compliment me
on my wisdom and gentleness, sense
of responsibility, little will they know
the freedoms I’ll enjoy, the libertine notes.

By the age of majority I will defy
death, a fight to see who’s stronger
needless to say, I will win over and over again,
I’ll get acquainted with myself.

I’ll graduate and find a job, have a kid
at twenty-three, a second four years later
a lifetime friendship with their adorable father.
I’ll be successful in building projects for others.

Until I won’t. I soon will realise what I want
find my courage and decide, to become
rather than merely be, me. Fast-forward
another ten years, see books be published,

indulge in writing poems,
study the universe and the mind,
observe as if it was my first day,
beginning in fourteen hours.

Grazin’ in the grass was mellow indeed
when you blew into your trumpet
blaring sounds of peace. What a trip!
Just watchin' as the world goes past,

you used to say playing notes of jazz.
Music of resistance for a tortured land
imbued in the blood of its natives bashed,
by the impudent high-handed little white man.

As your grandmother cared for you and miners
in illegal bars, piano keys enticed dreams of hope
for second class citizens silenced by oppression,
while the chaplain gave you your first instrument.

Little did you know the melodies you’d pour
on the rampant fires of blatant injustice.
Little did you know the strength you would instil
embodying possibilities, shedding light on the obscure.

Soweto blues you composed as Miriam gave
her voice to screaming mothers to cry out,
atrocities in town. Bring Him Back Home
you sang from afar until they did, and you

returned to see the prisoner walk free,
down the streets hand in hand with Winnie.
Only afterwards I heard your words and will
to show the people just how

wonderful and excellent they are.
A message I cherish and the reason why
many will remember you, your tune your smile,
as he who kept the torch of freedom alive.

A baobab tree has fallen indeed.

This is ground control
I sneaked in to give you a call,
it’s been a while and I yet wonder
are you still floating ‘round your tin can?

Since you launched in sixty-nine
not much has changed on planet Earth,
though Voyager one has left the system
recording sounds of Interstellar Space.

Its batteries are running low
but then other probes are on their way
rest assure, they are not searching for you
you’ve been forgotten long ago.

Scientists still question whether
indeed there is life on Mars,
planning missions to get there
we’ll leave in fifteen years or so.

Some are drawing domes forsaking
tragedy, creatively painting our escape.
Mickey Mouse has packed his suitcase,
left Minnie waiting in a bar.

Modern telescopes point to discover
exoplanets not too far, just in case,
some residing habitable zones
orbiting nearby stars.

This is ground control
I hear footsteps in the corridor,
have to run will call you again
until then I’ll keep taking care,

of your Diamond Dogs.

Long fingers, strong
as those of a pianist, maestro
entrancing as he strikes ivory
keys unleashing,
hypnotising notes gently
opening with an adagio,
softly incalzando to an allegro
keeping tempo, beating rhythm
to intimacy only awaiting,
reverberation.

I was born in green valleys to the effort of strong hands
roughened by the harshness of ungentle wintery gales.
Delight permeated space as they smiled to see me flourish,
Showering me with attention, care and compliments.

Perennially making sure I had all I needed as if I was
an incomparable incomplete treasure. For me they went as far
as killing storm clouds to shield me from hail, keep me
warm and protected. I thought they loved me for too much

energy, love and courtesy were devoted to me. Yet,
as soon as I started creatively sculpting blossoms, gems
of garnet concealing ancient praise, on an autumn day,
a distinguished man came to judge me prepared.

And that is when, my gratified father gave the order
to take me to the cellar strip me naked, ****** me
in a large basin, to be trampled over and crushed, shaped
for the pleasure of others. Vampires awaiting a chalice

of blood as my lymph, delicately streamed into barrels.
In agony there I was abandoned, for years secluded until
My release, from wooden prisons to glassed cells.
They dressed me up and took me out to bars,

Sold me to the best bidders promising I would quench,
their thirst and make them forget, sorrows and worries
if only for a night. To date you can still find me at hand,
I’ll be your inebriating servant as I slither into your mouth,

intoxicate your essence with mine.

There is a space, hidden from the eye
Of all creatures residing Earth only I,
Cognise and call my own as I alone,
Walk its secret paths entangled
Meanders ascending towards thoughts.

A cave of shadows revealing its nature,
Where senses are dismissed for ideas
To sparkle intuitions of reality I grasp,
Eyes closed, ears shut, no fire burning
Behind me to project illusions before me.

Here, I defy the diktat of physical condition,
Truths only true to animalistic interpretations,
Inebriated by the spirit of greater verities
A place as immense as the Universe,
Concealed within me pigeonholed Mind.

Details as tiny flecks of sand,
From the abysses of deepest waters
Rise above creating land,
For us to walk on solid grounds
Carpets of thin glass,
As they unfold immensity
One grain at the time.

Published yearly reports on global
development, equality and happiness
introduce, reflections of governance,
economy, wealth and well-being

uneven distribution.

Policies, discrepancies, resolutions,
conflicting interests of individuals
and groups interacting on grounds
of power asymmetries leading to failure.

Bargains amongst elites and greater
citizen engagement only keys, to success
defying rise of authoritarian populism,
a recurring nightmare from the past

century, overturning concepts of human
rights protection, jeopardising freedom
impeding equity and justice amongst,
populations untrusting rulers and neighbours.

Loss of faith in institutions, strain
on international cooperation, a species
struggling to live in society and peace.
Lifestyles devastating nature

while consumerism pollutes, air and waters,
toddlers playing with toys neglecting
consequences and repercussions ignoring,
to every effect there is indeed a cause.

Yet, Humanity is precisely that, a two
hundred thousand years old creeping toddler
learning how to walk. Improvements
cannot be overlooked or flouted,

self-commiseration and deploration the vice
of media-nurtured pessimism, populations
addicted to bad news. Guilty I say those indulging
in irrational despair accepting nothing

can be done and that humanity is doomed,
a cancer to our Earth undeserving anything good.

Yet, life expectancy reaches 71 from 32 in 1900,
child mortality halved since I was born, thirty
years for one point one billion people to move
out of extreme poverty, death penalty ruled

illegal in more than half of all countries,
crime rate falling as crime is recognised
as such and prosecuted, **** no longer
an offense against chastity or morality

but a crime against a Person, torture no longer
an acceptable feature of criminal justice,
as general consensus now deplores it,
our outrage proof of our progress, while

300, 000 more people gain access
to electricity each day, 120 democracies
among the world’s 193 countries,
up from just 40 in the seventies.

Looking for renewable energies,
carbon emissions from fossil fuels fail
to rise, new fields are explored, science
posing questions deemed heretic before.

And of course things could be better
and maybe problems could be solved
faster, but when we fail to see the progress
we make we begin, to stop trying.

And that my dearest friend would be,
the greatest natural disaster in history.
So assemble the broken pieces of your courage,
Turn off the news and make change happen.

Happy 2018.