Chronicle-1994

THE BIRTH OFVENUS Have you seen my love. Oh Messenger OfVenus? Have you not seen The sparkle in my eye, And heard the singing of my soul? I cannot count the times My heart has skipped a beat When hearing Your voice. Your sweet,soft voice Crafted,carefully With the delicate notes Ofa nightingale. Your opal eyes. Like wells ofdeep blue Oceans Churning Touch my soul And wash up against The beaches of my heart. Your skin is of a texture Impossible even for the gods to sculpt. Yours hands. Moulded from the earth itself. Are healing To the touch. Your hair is woven from Pure silk And gold leaf. Your lips as Red and moist as Ripening fruit. Your body is a godly form. Oh, My love. You are a creation of Venus herself. Goddess oflove and beauty. Forgive me, I am overwhelmed By your beauty and stature And am not worthy Of your love. FABIO CRABBIA Form 4R BANISHMENT I feel a tinge of sadnessl To think I used to be part of this. The veld. A vague thought of actually nothing exists in my head. How I know so little Birds keep their distance Beasts stop and stare at a stranger. "Intruder" And I know I have lost touch. I am disowned. MAZIBUKO MIND OVER MATTER They say that humans are animals In the scientific sense I mean. I press hack the legs Until, With a spine chilling Snap They're broken. Asforcibly as possible I pierce its ankles and wrists With miniature nails. Silently I cry out "My God Why have you forsaken me?" Clearly I am the one suffering. I hold its dank heart in my hand For a brief moment. Mine continues to pound furiously Prisoner oflife. The acrid smell offormalin Emanating from the corpses Is ever present Preserver of death One can run But one cannot hide. As I prod at the eyeball. Picking at the eye A cold sweat Emanates from my armpits. My hand brushes against its wet coat Tickled by the whiskersThey say that hair Continues to grow for days After the pulse has stopped. 'An eye for and eye'- It's my eye that's being poked out My mind thrusts forward A deep breath only gives time to advance I try to think wholesome thoughts In my panic I start to read the graffiti on the desk "What kind of animal would write that?"- Anything to quench my mind's thirst. The blood drains off my face The stiff coldness then heat; Cold I am off balance My flank exposed I topple over Mind over matter? No. Matter over mind. GORDONBUNTTING ENTITLED Life is neither fair nor unfairItjust is! A.BUTHELEZI 40 Kearsney Chronicle 1994

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