ontheheath: (Default)
my heart was open to a change of mind
but as things stood I just had to leave her behind

and since pleasure is the standard of choice
I had to enjoy mine, hard as it was to resist our electric chemistry…

and the sweet seduction of her voice
that upon auditory perception drew me to her
with the natural affinity of sexual chemotaxis

but even a fraction contains infinity
so although I felt incomplete without her
I still had to find my forever

I had to keep moving to my tune
trying to make sense of the universe…

this mysterious perpetuum mobile

© Heath Muchena, 2016
ontheheath: (Default)
I’ll continue to work with this pen
’til mother puts flowers on my grave
then prays… amen!

and just like Grigori Perelman
I don’t do it for profit or gain
though I could not turn down a million

© Heath Muchena
ontheheath: (Default)
fallible youth

fervent and vain

with a missing tooth

and a turf burn

up and down

on a seesaw

sun-kissed brown

little hero

© Heath Muchena
ontheheath: (Default)
you’ll love

you’ll lose

and let go

then love again

and sometimes even better than before

if along the way you somehow managed to grow

but taking into account the odds

you’re bound to lose once more

however, by this time, it shouldn’t be as difficult for you to move on

but if so, then a kind of sorrow soon follows

still, as long as man lives, man hopes

and so you’ll go on

waiting for your god to grant the mate your soul longs for

© Heath Muchena

half token

Feb. 13th, 2016 03:29 pm
ontheheath: (Default)
early Saturday morning

her scent still lingered but she’d disappeared

she liked to sleep in her own bed

and besides, she didn’t want to become attached,

neither did he

yet she’d left him longing

and hoping that the next time, she wouldn’t just leave a token

but instead would stay

but before brunch she was back

telling him how she’d hardly slept –

confused by the feelings he’d aroused in her

then they spent the day together

’til early Sunday morning

when again the night abducted her like Proserpina –

although he’d have sworn even Bernini

would not have been able to sculpt her – being so sophisticated

she told him that she’d wished him into existence

and he responded telling her she was the best he’d ever seen

© Heath Muchena
ontheheath: (Default)
glorious sky

luminous mass

here to wash

the night’s dye

many may wonder

why it’s you I reference

but if only they knew

of our conversations

and the verses

you’ve blessed me with

some fourteen thousand years before

our common era

when you birthed Stella

in the after hours of the great shower

when stars became the eyes

that would forever tower

© Heath Muchena
ontheheath: (Default)
The worst disease a poet can suffer

is failure to draw to the surface

the pure waters that sit at the bottom of the well of his soul;

the crippling sickness that makes him conceive in his mind from the wealth of his experience – which should never be separate from all that is —

but disables him from sharing it.

© Heath Muchena
ontheheath: (Default)
Been waiting so long my blood has turned cold and purple

and I feel like a lone chameleon in a fruitless passion.

You heard me calling for you, I’m sure you did…

I thought the sweet songs might pique your interest,

but it’s been years and now there’s a clot over the bleed —

the wilted four-leaf clover at the edge of this garden tells all…

the tale of not letting go.

All symptoms show a heart at desire’s end,

a passion watered down,

a spirit on its last glow

and a mind bent on letting go…

so I hope this time it’s not all vine and no taters.

© Heath Muchena

Cloud Mine

Feb. 5th, 2016 05:33 pm
ontheheath: (Default)
Her cloud white sclera

was pierced through by the sublime dark centre…

Telling of a loud and bright soul somewhere

beneath all that matter….

We talked over old ties and exchanged new lies —

the kind that become truths fostered by fears…

And when time was no more we kissed…

then we danced ’til the morning, sipping corpse revivers.

© Heath Muchena
ontheheath: (Default)
She wasn’t the type that sought the securities to be gotten from his abilities

but rather his soul…
She required he be selfless…

that her beauty be enough…

as if Serapis was really Christ,

as if Arius wasn’t right.

She thought herself the sun…
the one with whom he would synthesise…

along with the multitudes who could not escape her rays

and those who basked in them… adulating…

Only to tremble upon night’s return

when She unthreaded the warm cocoon

leaving them at the cross roads of the unholy matrimony.

© Heath Muchena
ontheheath: (Default)
All that surrounds me seems well adjusted,

And the harmonious silence of the night stirs up recollections;

Wherein I hear your heartbeat.

The sweetest music, the softest drumbeat.

Remember when I used to rest my head beneath your breast with my ear

Listening to your rhythm?

When all that mattered was us,

When we risked everything;

When it was worth living.

Even these winter beaten trees still manage generosity and give me air,
So please give me something so I know you’re still there…

Because although I live, it’s for nothing if not for you…

What’s the purpose of a life of imprisoned passions?

Yet there’s hope of flowering for the tree when the seasons change,

Hope that the stars will once again light up the sky when the clouds clear.

But does that spell hope for us?

Every one seems better matched

Because you’re not next to me.

I remember you once said that if it had been me you’d have adopted my name…

Even if distance is in the way; the memories are not faded.

Just preserved…whilst I wait and hope for reunions belated and happier days.

And although the compass that brought me to you,

Is for the time being making sure you remain lost to me,

Somewhere southeast …

Know that I miss you still.

© Heath Muchena
ontheheath: (Default)
When observing one’s own thoughts,

At certain heights of insight,

One may find some revelations distasteful

And some – the purest of delights.

As illusions are exposed

And a little genius reaffirmed.

Although oxymoronic…

Simple truths remain mostly at inaccessible peaks,

And if one goes a step further to attempt interpretation

As a scientist would draw up his theory,

Is he aware of the limitations?

A respectable lady once asked a young poet

Why he dares bare his soul in words made public,

And the young man answered:

Because the truth, is, as such – already revealed.

© Heath Muchena
ontheheath: (Default)
When a man reminisces about old lovers,
His instincts are revived.
He considers his current prospects
And rejoices in old ‘conquests’.
There’s a beautiful nostalgia about it all
And he goes on loving even when he has ceased lusting.

Now assuming as I am…
That when a woman calls on her memory
And remembers old encounters,
She may initially delight in the triggers of that very remembrance –
Often some amusing idiosyncrasies or affectations;
But then she is forced to remember his essence –
How he had her, and how he destroyed her beautiful illusion…
So she ceases to love when her youth withers.

© Heath Muchena

Red Horizon

Feb. 2nd, 2016 03:22 pm
ontheheath: (Default)
Star clusters light up the mellow dark space,

Furnishing the distant depths with a light red horizon.

The night is haunted by memory flashes of your face;

The one spark and only light I long for —

But our love has been a cold case

Since the thunder came upon,

Turning silence to noise.

So before laying it all to rest

I’ll look again to the red horizon

And watch it absorb all light and sound.

© Heath Muchena
ontheheath: (Default)
Vegetating – away from the anxieties of daylight;
Watching smoke trails disappear into the night.
I was reminded of ‘The Unquiet Grave’ and the saying:
“The reward of art is not fame or success but intoxication….”
I smiled.

Absorbing – the crisp Cape Town air,
The harmonious faint sounds from a nearby road
And the merry laughs from the neighbour next door —
So pleasantly disturbing.
I listened.

The little park behind this semi-detached house was dressed in white mist.
The Diep flowed, but remained as quiet as a pond.
No stars were visible in the sky,
Only a white veil to match the dress down below.
I watched…

Blue fighting to penetrate the sky.
God’s brush had sure done wonders of feathering the galactic rainbow’s edges with the white.
Then I thought ‘surely this very perception will fill consciousness
With dull remnants of remembrance,
And now Desire will be born and I shall begin to long for the colours beyond,
Begin to long for her,
And long for others’.
It was at that point I decided to exit the insane asylum of the eternal imaginarium.

© Heath Muchena
ontheheath: (Default)
praise one can accept
but to be ordained… please, no! I’m just a man

and one can’t help but think of the saints
take Augustine for instance…

one can trace back to his days in Carthage
when Manichaeism and scepticism were the ways

before he read Cicero’s works
before Ambrose baptised both him and his bastard Adeodatus…

even ’til his very end
who was with him at the time of his death? was it not Count Boniface?
the same man who invited Genseric and his Vandals into Africa…
that one even feels it vulgar to mention the bloody consequence

so praise I can accept
but to be ordained… please, no! I’m just a man

© Heath Muchena
ontheheath: (Default)
none too soon that her and I wanted to be alone

but the incarnate Jerome of Rome was in the room
as though there was nowhere else for him to roam

and so, a sort of passion police he’d become

© Heath Muchena
ontheheath: (Default)
they’d often spotted each other on the Metrolink during weekdays, and both done their fair share of pretending not to notice, so they’d never conversed ’til that early evening.

‘I quite fancy you’ she voiced excitedly, which sent his mind into an etymological frenzy. half a dozen or so synonyms sounding in his head. he was stunned, not only by her beauty, which was even better up close – hardly the norm – but also her wily ways; and at the same time he was trying to deduce the meaning of the phrase she’d just uttered. wondering what she meant by it. whether it was just another pleasantry. he always found the terminology ambiguous despite its relatively common usage across the country. all these thoughts were instant.

he quickly replied ‘you’re so lovely’.

‘then kiss me’, she prompted – confidently.

that moment clarified it. fancy had now been defined. as if she could read his mind. so he leaned in and they kissed. but no sooner had the tram arrived at Exchange Quays than the two could even part lips.

he had arrived at his destination. but he’d also experienced a new beginning.

© Heath Muchena

Open Lair

Jan. 27th, 2016 01:52 pm
ontheheath: (Default)
I want to take away the space, so there’s no vacuum
and feel flat and neutral
when I spend the fall equinox in the southern hemisphere
upon the Table Mountain plateau

I want to lie there and have dreams about the future
in which ancestors will feature
so they can tell riveting stories of disappearing streams
and rivers I’ll never swim

And when I wake, I’ll still not move
until I’m full of hunger to the brim
and only then will I abseil, but without rope
I wonder how, when I’ll be without a belayer, a lover, god or hope

so on second thought, I’ll just climb down
feet on the ground
and leave my head in the cloud
at least the part of it that is rot

© Heath Muchena
ontheheath: (Default)
mother has a beautiful garden wherein grows beetroot, okra, carrots, kale, spinach, cauliflower, lettuce, peppers, tomatoes, parsley, mint, sage, all kinds of vegetables and herbs….

surrounding the garden are paw paw, mango, lemon, banana, loquat, guava, avocado, and peach trees….

she said: the rains were good this year… even the well is full. I spent all day in the garden tending… weeding, watering roots, plucking and picking a few leaves and fruits whilst contemplating some truths. My son, there are invaluable lessons to be learned from doing earthly work… for me nothing gives more satisfaction than horticulture… I get so much delight – even greater than laughter… and in doing it I’ve come to know the true aspect of reward and frankly earned more than I could’ve ever from a seat in the office….

© Heath Muchena


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September 2016

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