In March 2018 I spent three weeks in and around Zululand located in eastern South Africa. The time was passed in and out of touch with the confines of reality. It would take copious H’s & A’s outlaid in repetitious positioning to truly put this experience into words. Instead I crafted a memory real mashup for y’all. Call it a savory salute to living life like a music festival montage. (Side-note I deserve zero credit for any of these lovely photos… You see I’m more of a camera giver rather than a picture taker. All the Ooo’s, ahhh’s and praise belongs to Chief White Chocolate.)
So here it goes in 3, 2, 1…
Waking up to another bright mornin’
The hell golden glow excites my soul,
But like the eye of a vortex circling from Circe’s psyche
Dark clouds be stormin’ my ego.
Something begins to sell my serenity short again
The restless wind descends whispering, “it’s time my friend”
One day it came to me the long term remedy to stagnicity
Is trying every blade of grass on for size and a reprise.
So instead of buying the Monopoly pieces needed to achieve
A prominent square on the ne’er-do-well fearin’ plane
Past the point of go I’ve gone 200 paces past disbelief
Collecting separate seasons of traveler’s greetings by dry and rain.
Daring to find a place that lays beyond conformity
Before my metatarsals are sworn to dormancy
Which fits like the well worn rags who’ve had my back
When all other forms of comfortability I lacked.
Youth in revolt now an international cult
Nothing shy of a miracle three children of America
Met four of European kind on an African tour of mind
In the shambles of African travels
Hid among start and end are bushels of time up for lend
Listen for the laughter between the leaves
And you’ll find sweet relief out by the water berries.
Four nights feels like a fortnight out here in nomads land
Where the only battles raged are between the Contras and the Reyes
Pick a pack of ticketed trekkers and the spice of life
Will feed your soul ravenous morsels of super lekker delight.
Come each day’s night,
Before the pack pillages the pre-pilfered pantry
It’s possible to listen to glistening streams of conversations converge
Into a bulging word cloud, an inaudible dirge
Of whispered dilutions stratifing the atmosphere defying the common sphere
Enveloping elation’s, developing relations, all based on good vibrations…
And some wonder why I don’t have a magnetic pull
To the concept of being in a stagnant lull.
Youth in revolt now an international cult
Nothing shy of a miracle three children of America
Met four of European kind on an African tour of mind
With Patients at the ready hop in and let the rambling begin
Doors of perception have become windows of attention.
Sipping Ciroc out the mist of a tall tonic bottle with a jazzy gin twist
A harmonious haggle of horns blare from the teal music machine
Conducting nefarious navigation with an air of twirlsome flare
Sparking feelings of being reborn on this dusty road of dreams.
Outer facade, roving the land in a suped-up Tonka Truck
But if you peer through the mud-splattered window gunk
You’ll find a good time gang of gypsies cackling like hyenas on a hunt
Temporarily shedding the sheets we use to block society’s heat.
Suffering through temporary bouts of staggering normality
Auspiciously masquerading as day time wage farers
In order to support bohemian wayfarings
Off in places made for losing your bearings.
Coexisting in comfortable voids of silence like a cohort of sleeping lions
Watching thunder-less flashes shatter on black back-splashes.
Youth in revolt now an international cult
Nothing shy of a miracle three children of America
Met four of European kind on an African tour of mind
Interpreting the laws of man with a higher hand
Rolling with life’s left passes like Petty and his band
Under the rule of nature tents became indoor pools
But despite being moist and damp we chose not to give a damn.
The only coppa who gave us some lip was Officer Impala
Apparently not a fan of Black Label wind chimes
Which jangle with aromatic drips.
Detested and civil untested he pitched a stench
We discovered your average three seater bench holds 12 by 68 fluid litters.
Clandestine to make it to the restroom, a Kruger lesson learned:
Life’s a drive in the park until the bladder screams May Day
And the closest toilet is still 40km away
But quick stop and pee could bring a hefty penalty or a slinking cat attack.
Think I’m kitten about these lines?
Despite the hair I ain’t lion about the carnal conspiring
Which hides behind the grasses like spies
Youth in revolt now an international cult
Nothing shy of a miracle three children of America
Met four of European kind on an African tour of mind
Apt for some royal fun facts?
Hyenas like the herb, where as elephants travel in herds
The wildebeests have the gossip about the forest beat
They’re so nosey they smell with their feet
Tis a pity the elephant and rhino had a shitty falling out
Now the rhino must spread his about
Atje voor de sfeer, for the sake of Shakespeare
Cher is in the chair with acid in the beer
Not one to hold her biltong the question beckons,
“How many hops does it take to celebrate 24 years?”
Plenty more trips around the sun to come
But it will be hard to top the dawning of the eve of a quarter century
German bought chocolate cake and ate it too
Gether with a far flung family anointed by the power of the joint
Answering smoke signals from The Netherlands, Germany and across the USA
Seven minds better than one? How about 7 minds becoming one?
Youth in revolt now an international cult
Nothing shy of a miracle three children of America
Met four of European kind on an African tour of mind
You know back in ‘02 I was snapping fictional pictures on computer games
Of zebras and lions on some African planes
Now I’m toking out in Swaziland with the Winter Dodging gang
Learning of the zeb-ras, stars, and Bushlands ways
New rules by the old school, making plans to bop some jams
I said a hack, hop, a hippy to the hack, hop and you don’t stop
The days hackenings are to be hackhazardous hacking
Members brought together by hackenstance now a tribal dance
May the Chief be pleased with our funky footed beat
Hacktic attacks are the antics at hand in a bowl of rolling green land
A brief touch down for our worldly whirling dervish
Impervious to idleness going where the Swazi good, good guides us
Waking up in the clouds turning tents into rocket ships
Launching our cranial domains into higher planes
Pipe dreams truly plumed into a reality beyond my adolescent comprehension
Now I’m ready at attention to live the rest of my days
Youth in revolt now an international cult
Nothing shy of a miracle three children of America
Met four of European kind on an African tour of mind
Ticketed tail lights and two tire pops
Signal the sound of return with the Hops Doc on watch
No worry about falling off the on-beat wagon
B-Money, cotton-tail, 2-braids keeps the back corner popping
Arms wavering, layering the voluminous waves of smoke the High Roller is blowing
Keeping us tilted like the roulettes whittled wheel
Some say sure bets are apothecareous
But we always agree when he always reaches for the red square
Papa Duck keeping care watching the THC levels with a birds eye view
Not hasty to call out any member of the crew
Even Chief White Chocolate takes another toke when the weatherman booms, “smoke”
Fearless leader Peter at the helm guiding us through alternative realms
Personal space now exists in a mythic place
Rubbing toes, losing elbows not keen to whose knee belong to me
No limb it to the number of arms and legs we can fan-dangle
In a Jenga like entangle while jam packed in a 4 by 5 keg
Happen to know the hop count or should we compound some more back?
Run Dat the last member of our rowdy rat pack
Always keeping it real sputtering accents with zeal
Got a hankering for pie he’s your guy asking price 17 porpoi
Better believe credit and debit can get lost in two blinks of four eyes
Youth in revolt now an international cult
Nothing shy of a miracle three children of America
Met four of European kind on an African tour of mind
Star gazing, Dorito chip grazing
Dream blazing, boogie board racing
Life’s just peachy getting down and beachy in the sand
Lost boys in wonderland with Frank grinning 9 mile in the sky
Feat of surviving feat not thriving
Between toe dogs, turtle poo, and landy knee we
We got ailments up the wazoo
But nothing ale ‘n menthols won’t get us though
Fishing wishes, story dishing
Hops flow, saga unfolds
Bookmark the day ten cadets blasted away
Day trip master with a hand from the grand maestr-O
Conducting a concerto in the key of mellow
Lucid smiles derived from paper thin wiles
Enjoying some mind mergers like a plate of tasty burgers
Belly laughs, going daft
Dissolving ego with all mates in tow
Idea lobbing, why not bank robbing
Take to the mattress if the bucket of nope dries
Punjabi Remix so nice got to pump it twice
Seriously does anyone have a rope?
Youth in revolt now an international cult
Nothing shy of a miracle three children of America
Met four of European kind on an African tour of mind
Go with the flow ease with the breeze
Wondering souls we’ll always be
Like asphalt scorched by suns mighty heat
Traveling days seared into collective memory
Off in a land that makes me believe nature will conquer man
Determined to take on life with Ali’s ability to fight
Don’t care about being knockouts
Because splattered ‘n tattered clothes are better than a ragged soul
Time under our control longer lasting living one day at a time
Morning light to star rise spent making hay
Setting fire to night like moths to flames
Open minds and slack jaws lines, trademarks of our kind
Laughing like pirates after a plunder no topics taboo
From sexual blunders to religious preaching and government creepings
All covered before reaching the hobo sip of beer
We swear, “shit it feels like we’ve known each other for years”
Youth in revolt now an international cult
Nothing shy of a miracle three children of America
Met four of European kind on an African tour of mind
Although the place where I lay my head will change
The people in my circle will always remain
Tight till the end we ride till the death wondering where will life drop us next?
Question asked through lite-beer laced lips
Like flunky balls flying from tanned finger tips
We float on hope our dreams won’t land a missed
Time will give the answers true but it is with confidence I say to you
“As far and as wide as we may roam
Travel with ease knowing in my heart you always have a home”
Got to hold tight to the people who make you feel like sunlight
Let the Vagabond hold true long after the crazy hazy travel days are through
It’s the jilted the jealous and the damned who claim memory fades
But 25/8 the sun will never set on these winter days
Southern cross my heart and hope to die
Seasons change but thicker than thieves this bond will remain
Long after autumn leaves let gravity take way
Youth in revolt now an international cult
Nothing shy of a miracle three children of America
Met four of European kind on an African tour of mind
Youth in revolt now an international cult
Nothing shy of a miracle three children of America
Met four of European kind on an African tour of mind
Youth in revolt now an international cult
Nothing shy of a miracle three children of America, merica, merica
Met four of European kind on an African tour of mind
Paths now diverged but souls forever merged
We may not see each other soon
But no doubt one day we’ll be together
Howling at the moon
That Blonde Vagabond 
This blog was like following a leaf travel through a wild and exotic coubtry on a warm breeze that took many dips and unrxoected curves. Beautiful
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Thank you! The words spilled out in versus then it was just putting the pieces together
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