Amnesty International ArtsFest

Here's a video clip, of my poetry recital from the 2011 Amnesty International (Wits) Annual ArtsFest. The poem is called, Medusa. It remains one of my favourite poems, and I am very proud of the places its gone to, and the people it has revealed itself to. I suppose one focal aspect of poetry, is to do what a novel does, without all the chapters and tedious descriptions that span over 300 or so pages sometimes. Medusa is a metaphorical poem, aimed at the advent of the 'Corrective Rape' phenomena that unfolded egregiously in South Africa, first when the Banyana Banyana star was brutally slain for celebrating her sexuality, then the headlining murders of several other young, predominantly black lesbians in the country. The Caster Semanya debacle had just scratched open wounds, that many gender-rights activists had long feared would cause the fabric of society to disintegrate hysterically and unsparingly. The phenomena was interlinked with an assumption, or a misconception rather, by some black men and homophobic citizens, that raping a lesbian woman would cause her to come to the egress of her "newfound heterosexuality." In the poem, Medusa (a Goddess of the ancient greek times who was sent to live in the 'Hades' away from her privilege) is an allegorical figure of modern day torture, who is subjugated and compelled to accept a life of solitude, whilst simultaneously dealing with the fact that she had been defiled through the desecration of her body- she had been raped...corrective-ly.

Poem: Exalted

You're such a misery
calling out like a Church
wanting to be first in line
initiating the first act of perjury
so bound to psychology-
bent like a thesis and pulled like a theory

You're such a misery
wailing on like an emergency
alerting all to your turns and trips
rolling your eyes in your made-up head

you're such a misery
miserable abreast my shadow
miserable beneath the crystal glow
wishing you could really know
which way my similes go
you paper-torn piece of philosophy
un-jaded, reprimanded, kinda lost and crazy
laying there, miserably
pretending to be dead
along the sheen of my bed

though so soft and lively
inside my head

-Raeez Jacobs

Psycho-Monstrosity  

You used to say very little

to all the words they hurled your way

folded in, thinking you were a foetus

or that your silent prayer

would end it that day

i used to watch you go still

as things crossed your mind

in the still of the moment

i watched you discard of pasts

and hang onto what mattered

i've seen you carry yourself

all along the arduous social shelf

i remember how much your feared the void

riddled by a life lived in paranoia

of the things your history would come to do

i saw your eyes become unemployed-

vacant, empty, as if you were looking at me

but couldn't see me at all

like being able to swim

yet still drown in dead waters

i watched you confuse me

doubt myself, and throw myself

at things moving faster than meteors

lending myself to the open most doors

hoping to find someone a little bit more like me

someone who could hurt and let that be that

god-induced, able, and strong minded

absent to the things that made them wet

as if they were being baptised again

anointed to another cycle of disdain

only this time

they'd bear the grunge under a different name

i think you only began to realize

that the answer was not in the title you held

the day you got life back into your eyes

the day you stopped staring wide-eyed at the changing skies

the day you came out of the manilla fold of your shadow-

opened up, stepped in, unmasked yourself, and let your intentions show

they stopped laughing at you that day

i started to trust myself again and stopped throwing myself at the wind

hoping it would carry me to the furthest and darkest corner of the world

i felt haughty, i felt proud that day

because nothing could have prepared me

or ever made me think that there would come a time

in the sordid existence to which we were privy

that my eyes would literally glance at liberty

as if it had metamorphosed from mere state to a physical inanimate thing

i began to believe in things i had been sceptical about

realizing what i could and couldn't do without

that even though you we spent our lives drifting to and fro

we always knew where our souls would go

we always understood that home within each other

that no matter where you went or who you saw

your heart was still beating in the shadow of our abodes door

so you could be who you wanted to be and fulfil your every dream

and i could do the same under my own sentiments and my own regimes

comfortable enough to watch you make the most of your dreams.

©Raeez Jacobs. Poetry. 2013

Poem: The Butterfly Effect

It's Friday. The air outside is thick, with heat
and a little unnecessary wind; the kind that
does no cooling, just blowing- nonsensical wind much?
i wrote this poem. it means something to me,
but it means the world to you. nobody's perfect,
but we can all read between the lines---

This poem is for  my friend, Chanelle

-----------------------

-The Butterfly Effect- 

You left your soul in my pocket

I can hear your heart beating ‘gainst my locket

And i can see your voice in my music

you are what makes my heart go weak

losing myself in

the multiplication

doused

in the situation

of the butterfly

effect

all the ghosts

and stories we

resurrect

leaving good men

blind

the heart is yours

to find

sixteen weeks of romantic exile

your head’s so stationed at the aisle

toasts to forever- commitment wherever

look for other wonder, never

taken in and held down slowly

making promise look so easy

lost in the multiplication

of the situation

-the butterfly effect-

Ghosts i resurrect

Good heart go blind

your Heart is yours

to

find

 ©RaeezJacobs. Poetry. 2013. 

Repeat Offender

I cannot look
at your name in the face
and pretend there's no god
in the noun
or some divinity in the vowel
sounds as they escape from
between my quivering lips

I cannot wish it that
these waves or ripples
swathed across my heart
just be ironed out by the
steams of paradise
i need to look you in the eyes
but

i am so

restless as a prolonged winter
and prolonged as a never ending summer

I cannot look you in the eyes
and pretend not to feel your
name rising up through my larynx
otherwise i am abused by my own
inner hands

compelling myself to surrender
and the very last noun by which
i need be known

as my gaze
melts in your stride

is

repeat offender

© Raeez Jacobs. Poetry. 2013
20

[Poem] Of You- R. Jacobs

everything reminds me of you
when i think back
in the tape of my mind
i see you turning in my stereo

and i hear your lungs
pressing out the music
coming from your sweet mouth
with your hands changing
the way the wind felt on my cheeks

i see your eyes as i see
two headlights in the night
with the same anxious heart
of a lonely traveller

taking my jeans and smirk
down some pretty dangerous roads
getting into an old Chevy
with some sweet thing

who listened to Pour Some Sugar on Me
at the loudest volume
and made me sweat like
a slave in hell

with shackles at my shaking knees
rattling like possessed sea shells

hot and bothered
directly exposed to the heat

that all reminds me of you

©RaeezJacobs. Poetry. 2012

Through the wall

Last night in the room together
and suddenly we start to feel
the weight of the word, forever
press down on our minds,
thoughts, assumptions, and
crippling existences

the very last hour
like this- arm in arm,
or whatever you would like to
call it
the final moments
of our union;
the split occurs here
suddenly, we know fear

and realise that, we had
never really been scared
before our amalgamated clocks
began to tick away
edging toward the end

it was meaningless and empty
back then
it was just about screaming
and exuding steam
like Victorian trains
stuck within concrete tubes
on the most tired day lived

no we know
both of us, twine as
moon and night
sun and day

what the world feels like
soon as emptiness begins to form
in the shape of each other's aura

so we hold each other so close
as if infinity would somehow
begin to move through
our joined arms
as if we could imprison each other
in the thing we were trying
to build

they won't understand
what happened to me
that night
the poet's fail at it
and so do the wise
but I can tell you do
by the way you bat your eyes


                                 -Raeez Jacobs

©RaeezJacobs.2012.Poetry

Poem: Between Hearts

Your heart and Mine

between your heart and mine,

there is a space of,

bewilderment and wonder

there are questions,

becoming edgy,

between your heart and mine

there is no other disagreement,

but our own fear, brewing

between, your heart and mine

time flows, as it should flow,

and feelings go,

where feelings usually go,

between your heart and mine

now-

the stars don’t shine, the torches never glow,

yet, there was once a spark

between your heart and mine

lit up, like an amusement park

an arm away

from an embrace,

an hour away

from your gate,

your world is an open

book,

my world, is

your story

and there, are no errors,

between your heart and mine

tensions are nascent,

between your heart and mine,

and neandethal feelings

are discarded,

but beautiful things remain,

while compliments fill

the balloons floating,

from your heart, to mine,

so they burst from airs and graces

there is a

silenced secret,

and suppressed

emotion, twirling

in the space, between your heart and mine

there are words, questions,

curiosities, lights waiting to glow,

answers, desires,

and events, between your heart and mine

there are things to

anticipate, dream-of,

and decipher, between our hearts;

there are unspoken languages,

contrived laws, and a collision,

of red hot feelings- crashing into each other,

like two planets merging-

worlds diverging, between

our aching hearts,

and

gravity flows, eternally

through the vents

of my heart,

into yours,

so both our hearts,

are calmed, void o’ fury,

and unintimidated by

the love jury,

and both our hearts,

are carried by,

the force of nature

we never show it,

though it is live;

there are performances,

on the stages, in the

spotlight,

between your heart and mine,

hence, we become so broadway that,

no thick line

can cross out, the way we feel;

turning through the Hollywood wheel,

we’ve got fame out our feet,

and take to the arts, for theraphy;

beneath a creavity canopy

there is a silenced,

longstanding, robust,

and an unblemished aura

circling and flappin’

through the rings and clouds,

in the ambience

between your heart and mine

there is a whole

other world, no man alive

could build, with his

bare hands or heavy tools;

constructed in, the urban setting,

between your heart and mine

I know I’ll be fine,

and you will be too

because each and every one,

of your heartbeats,

reassure and console me;

every second of your life, adds

another mintute to mine...

implying that, there is one ending

between your heart and mine,

therefore, we will perish, identically,

then together in the underworld, we will

continue to be

as only you could

see, what everyone

else was blind to;

my breaking points-

moral hypotheses; experiments,

to see what would happen,

should i witness you fade,

becoming so paranoid

that,

for days,i swam through my horoscope,

as if there were chemicals,

on the page,

that could cease, whatever

the stars perceived as trauma,

or as if i could dive, straight into hope,

desperately trying to make time

become less fractious, and

praying, for emotional traffic, to flow

freely in the passages between

your heart and mine

as if the soul of the sign,

and the astrologer’s orotund prediction,

would make it less malice,

and more milignant

operative upon

our own train ride,

with nothing to hide,

in our hearts; goin’ round the track,

‘til we came back, with our

Heads, pregnant, heavily, with

ideas, and things to say

and it was then, the tunnel

was formed,

between your heart and mine

so that you could, walk-in

on my lies, and see them, before

they were even formed,

so that i could sleep, in the hazel

duvet ,of your eyes, covered by

your lashes, soft as feather

you knew how i ascended, and

descended, like

interrupted surprises or ecstasy,

when you were too scarce

for me, to dial your number,

and sit still, with your voice

caressing the inside of my ear-

you altered by the seams,

and we graduated from an era;

an age of unseen,

enchanting, and different

ways, or diverse shades,

of the same day,

making all the difference;

testing me, and tempting me,

to submit my body, and soul-

clinging to a celestial pole

but,

strength differed now;

the cavity in which it bred,

had it purling- stirring,

all the miseries, under the bed,

power wanted to

mimic the head,

and slice through, what should

not have been said, while all the heart did,

was try, not to make, the eyes see-

that it was sadly,

bucking away, against a

few dislocated ribs,

in the lampshade

shaped chamber

because, it was too

afraid of the conscious,

bereft-of-thorough-thought, kind of mental state,

we adopted, when we were suffocated by fate;

casting out meaningless anger, and hate,

while meandering, shyly,

between your heart and mine

we depended upon,

abusing each other,

and once, i was still holding on,

and trapped

in your shadow, when you

turned to go;

abandoning me- leavin’ me

to hang there, raped by

rough, autumn air,

in the orgy of wind, smaking

me, from side to side,

‘til i erased that

thick line, separating,

your heart from mine

and decreased

the distance,

between your our hearts,

because there could be no

gaps or cracks,

between your heart and mine

                                                                   -Raeez Jacobs

©RaeezJacobs.2012.Poetry 

in between the silence

You break my heart
and then keep quiet

you used to be a king
with your horses and your castle
you used to rule
over the land of my soul
you made me feel whole
you were the keeper
keys in your pocket
my photo in your locket
my image in your head
you used to love
as i was the best thing
you ever had

now

you break my heart
and then keep quiet

©RaeezJacobs.2012.Poetry

[Poem] Where the winds rape the shell

She wakes to the sound of nothing;

yet today, the world is her only song-

to which she- lone heart as a once-boat,

must travel beyond her path.

The Gods delude her, though even

she is excited by

their seasons, and how they force the tide

to reach a high, outside the window; where the winds rape the shell.

She speaks in one voice only; the tongue of the seas-

the mermaid upon the sand, like a goddess.

It is the feel of the town, and the breath of the

city through which her eyes

kiss the dawn.

-Raeez Jacobs

©Raeez Jacobs. 2012

[POEM] bangle Theory

-my decrepit state is an art form, and 
I will always allow myself colour; 
Bursts of laughter, toasts, 
Sex, and hope, in all that would come afterwards. 
I couldn't always cling to it, 
They say, the hands of a poet 
Is numbed, 
When the bangles of misery 
Begin wrapping themselves 
'Round the tattooed arms of youth. 
I still seek the truth, 
And lend myself to his jargon- 
Pretending to understand, 
Pretending to know; 
Keeping up the appearance, of someone 
Whose eyes, have a view of their head, 
While really, I know so little, 
That my bones crack whenever 
Knowledge jumps at me, 
From the pages of his biography. 
And secretly, I buck violently- 
Corner-to-corner, like a stone 
Underneath a floor, trembling by some vibration. 
And sometimes I even cry more than 
An appalled god, whose hair 
Was cut by his angels; whose followers 
Turned their heads, 
Whose heaven suddenly 
Became so earth, he had to stoop. 
I was a child of his parenthood, 
Taking baby steps, 
And tryin'a convince myself 
That, I will supersede 
The bangles of misery, 
By turning my tears into art.
         
                                                                  -Raeez Jacobs

© Raeez Jacobs. 2012. 

A night of poetry: book launch

Reading my poems, and others, in the 16th Edition of, Botsotso Literary Journal

Literary Journal, Botsotso, edition 16 cover

Oh so very New York, or London, of Johannesburg, to shower us with snow; coinciding with the highly anticipated launch of, prominent and striving, South African literary journal, Botsotso16. My own heart had been overcome with much delight, as the evening drew near. Melville was filled, for what was, arguably, one of the coldest nights, of the 2012 winter season. News of heavy snow storms were making headlines, across the country, and every single social feed- from Twitter to BBM- showed the reaction, from Joburgers; following the heavy snow. Yet, there I sat; a little too preoccupied, with attending the book launch, in which two of my poems, would be included, than to be fussed over the snowfall. Elation is not a strong enough adjective, to describe exactly, what I felt; no other synonym thereof, would suffice either.

So much to smile about

One of the poems, on Page 66

Nadia and I, looking rather panache, before launch.

The inside of the quaint, Cafe De La Creme, right next door to, Book Lovers, on the iconic; 7th Ave (or 7de Laan, rather) began to quickly fill, with poets, poet enthusiasts, and photographers, as my friend's and I walked in; a little later than the expected time of commencement. The man, I presumed, was the MC, had already made several announcements, and later, summoned us, to front row seats. Though I was unable to spend the entire evening at the launch, while there, I did get to listen, to some of the most beautiful pieces of prose, and poetry alike. Everything was genuine, yet still surreal, and for a while, I became rather overwhelmed, and walked out, for some fresh air.

With my doll and everything more, Chanelle, at the launch

INSIDE: Sophiatown Cafe. Pre-launch coffee.

It was exactly as I had always imagined it; the people, their expressions, clothes, and even the ambiance, were in line, with what I had long associated, book launch's with. Mostly, I was thrilled to have two of my closest friends, Nadia and Chanelle, right there with me. Their support will always mean the world to me. Later, I chatted with the editor, Allan, who also handed me a complimentary copy, of his very own anthology; There are two birds at my Window, before encouraging me to continue, submitting work to Botsotso.