toothless....

the boys sit, talking and planning... little skits and rehearsals..
they bark loud, wag tails, dance the gig and hand out flyers..

We plot, plan, design.. words to be spoken..
then re-plot, re-plan, re-design, re-configure our strategy..
then we get up and dance...
our plan re-defined... we instruct each other... send each othet.. so juvenile so young so inexperienced; our approach is.. we are blind though.. read and re-write signals... yeses morph to nos... nos become common denominator...
Lights come on.. our tails wags high... we talk of could-have-beens and did-you-see... should-have-dones... and kaffir-pleases...

truth is... we are cowards, we have no bite, we hunt wind.. and have imaginary player shoes...

there is no water here...

WOW!!!!!

it is really sad when one can use the term drought for anything other than lack of water, right?
so i won't use the word drought..
i will just say...
my weather man has been on vacation for over a year now...
so don't blame me,
if i seem to keep reading the skies wrong...
these days it feels like i am always wearing a jacket in the blazing sun..
or a vest in the cold...
I do wish i could once again wear a raincoat and dance in the rain..
i tell you now,
this is how kaffirs
(I figure I won't ever use the word nigga again, it does not apply to me)
end up drenched and pneumonic..
then they catch a virus or something...
A hunter should always carry salt...

Welcome to Roguesville

It is very complex to explain how one can be so detached from himself, that he sees himself as a vibrant community of individuals.

So I will try my best to write out an adequate introduction to the Rogue's-Ville Community. As some of it, members will be writing their version of my thoughts...

The streets are littered with thoughts and words. Evolving with the time of day and the places the vessel migrates to or inhabits...

The Roguesville Community is as diverse as communities come... Picture a quiet lake-side town, little houses with mutli-bright-coloured rooftops, chimney pots, and narrow cobble-stone roads.

The SoulShack is a single-roomed Wooden Radion Shack. That plays an eclectic selection of music. Sitting at the crossroads that mark the Centre of Roguesville..Diagonally opposite the enormous Church building.. "Spiritual Home"..  The RadioShack is run by a Shark-Tale Type Dreadlocked, Snoop-Dogg Skinny, Schizophrenic DJ...

The "Spiritual Home" is run by a powerful quite voice.. One that says, corrects, pressures, advises, is the eldest, the disciplinarian, God's echo.. No one has ever seen the voice, yet everyone has been moved by it..

My mother lives across from both buildings.. Watching, listening, laughing, advising, shape shifting into each example she gives.. She is the fluidity of this world.. All in the community, know of her.. Try to please her or totally ignore her.. Some passers-by whisper of how she learnt as child how to send her voice.. And therefore think she actually is the Voice in the Spiritual Home.. Others believe she secretly runs SAM.. Loving him into the Man he has grown to be.. Warning him, encouraging him.. influencing him, Making him the listening, caring, loving understanding wise.. Deep biting, hard-hitting, man he is...

Sam, is a muzzled dog. Inter-breed of Great Dane, Bul Mustif, Rotwieller... His rules aren't written in stone.. Or written at all.. he cares for nothing.. is a free-willed puppy.. It is said he has never grown.. will never grow up.. Sam hunts, and Sam rolls over... Sam sits.. Sam never barks.. yet Sam barks... Bites... Maybe even breathe fire.. Sam never protects the heart...

Now for those of you really interested in this world...

Warning...