Kalypsoul: The Other Self: February 2008

Saturday, February 02, 2008

Contigo

I like the way your arms enfold me
And your body rests so gently on mine
Or the way angles and curves enclose each other
And merge into become one never ending whole
I like the way our unacquainted tongues meld
in sweet unison
Speaking the same language
. . . for once . . .
even understanding
I like the way we come home to nest
After a long day’s work
Wanting no more but to sit
Enfolding each other
Listening to the steady beat
Of the metronome within
We swim in style toward feelers outstretched
I like the way we cross time and space
And oceans deep
To flow together
In the silent memory of God

© KPLewis (Kalypsoul)
12.14.2005

Paths Cross

Just one of those days . . .
Locked in a gaze . . .
A-maze . . .
We meet . . .
We greet . . .

For a reason . . . every reason
A season . . . all seasons

One precious moment
Of serenity
I see
The timelessness of you and me
Merge into
Vast eternity

Fathomless . . .
Like the mind of God
Boundless . . .
Like His love

Now you . . .

Reach across . . .
Raging ocean of tranquil blue-tea
In whose depths still our forefathers lie
Tearful children of the sea
Yearning for life-giving unity
With Nzinga . . . and Zuwena . . . and Yaa
There in lush green Mwafrika

Glide on, stately and pacific
Across the measureless Atlantic
Realm of Papa Dambala
And the mysterious Yemanja

Skim over foam-whipped peak
And fog-dipped bleak

Ride on, dusky thane
The wind, your silent, fleet-footed steed
Fly on, majestic eagle
Full-fledged and free
Master of all you see
Sail on the ocean breeze

Was it only yesterday
Those laughing eyes
Probed my depths
Unmasked my lies
Seeing all
Sweeping all
Intense . . .
Peeling back layers
Of hard-nosed pretense

‘Til trembling core
Laid bare
Of fear . . .
Of never wanting to care. . .
To feel . . .
To yield
To need . .
To concede . . .

Lying dormant
Almost dead
Tiny seed
Dry, withered, buried deep
‘Neath mounds of driven snow
Not wanting to grow . . .
Never needing to know . . .

Until You . . .

Watered by the well Spring
Of your vibrant soul
Warmed by the Sun-blast
Of your searing touch
Wooed by the Son-shine
Of your calming smile . . .
Wakening . . . wondering . . .
Wanting . . . ever so much

And so . . .

At break of dawn
A Rose is born
Radiant . . .
Quivering . . .
Fragrant . . .
Giving . . .
Tender petals in awe unfurl
Open to this strange, new, world

Engaging floods of furious rain . . .
Embracing storms of blinding pain . . .

Endearing rays of blazing light . . .
Enfolding walls of starless night . . .

Enthralled by all
Encompassing all

Whatever the season . . .
Needing no reason . . .

To love . . .
To live . . .
To be . . .

At last
Enjoying . . .
The immensity
Of . . .
Me

******

The most beautiful gardens bloom
In the heart

In your eyes and in your smile
My soul finds its resting place
And
Is refreshed

©KPLewis (Kalypsoul)
08.08.1999

Princess

Princesses and kings-to-be
throwing coins to vain peasant seed
blowing streams of kisses
lapping up their every cheer
then palace-ward again

pillows drenched in blood and tears
hands twisted,wrung
hung out to dry
billowing sheets no longer white
stains of grief indelible

lives wasted lost forever
to human tenderness
joy and laughter
now forced memory like pearls forgot
of tallow grease aged,long cold

hearts lily frail
weeks-old, sere and dusty brown
faded images of togetherness
freedom, happiness, serenity
of soaring birds and grassy green

shimmering crystal droplets
perched in dazzling tentativity
upon delicately veined petals of yellow rose
watching the ripples play
hide and seek across the bay

wondering where do they go
where did it all go?
I too had it once, I know I did
eons and eons ago
then saw it all slip away

drip, drip, drip
ruddy drop following ruddy drop
while I stood helpless
marvelling at its beauty
Tell me

can it ever come again?
can we forever smile?

© KPLewis (Kalypsoul)
09.15. 1997

The Way I Use Language

Author’s Note: Codeflow

You will find that I have started to experiment with movement in communication referencing (in speech and thought patterns) from dialect to standard that is neither unidirectional nor formulaic. This is deliberate. The style used here is my experimentation with what I call code-flow. I find myself writing the way I speak – in a comfortable, fluid mixture of standard and dialect, often within the same sentence, the same thought. It is what we Caribbean people do in uncontrived everyday speech. It is not code-shifting with which the literary world is familiar. Code-switching or code- shifting tends to follow a certain pattern, dialect for speech and standard for description and narration as has been traditionally used in Caribbean fiction. I am taking it a step further, letting dialect flow into standard and back again in both dialogue and narration/description, mingling together in the same sentence, the same thought. To me this shows the true fluidity/reality of how we operate linguistically in everyday life. We do not think in standard English and converse in Trini dialect; we think in both and speak in both but not all the same time. I may begin a thought in the standard received form but suddenly I want to express surprise, hilarity, indignation, outrage and the standard does not have the right words. I flow effortlessly to that in which I can express those thought, those ideas, those sentiments most comfortably. I express them and, depending on what I wish to reference next, I either move back to standard, stay where I am or move deeper into another dialect comfort zone. I may say it in French Patois or Cocoa Panyol or a dialect of Hindi or of English or I may use a uniquely West African turn of phrase or grammatical construct or express m thoughts in a totally creative word or expression known only to my country or one group or individual within. Language gets created through use and new words and expressions all have a very specific starting point.

Code switching is an improvement on the outright rejection of the use of dialect as having no place in the written word or in Caribbean literature. It also differs from the outright rejection of the standard as a form of linguistic resistance to colonialism. Yet, code switching is a colonized, conformist mode that, in spite of itself, accepts the superiority of the standard and makes apologies for dialect by restricting its use only to direct speech. It reflects the pedagogy of colonial education which polarized the acceptable standard of the reading books and the classroom from the unacceptable dialect of everyday use by everyday people. It was a time when the whip was applied to purge the tendency towards dialect use in respectable settings.

Code sliding attempts a more integral blending of the two and brings together a variety of Caribbean dialects in one form. It moves in the direction of defining a distinct and decolonized Caribbean identity in the aftermath of colonialism. The term code-sliding, however, implies for me a lack of control, a downward sort of slippery slope movement, and a built-in acceptance of linguistic hierarchies. Instead I advance the concept of code-flow which conveys the sense of non-hierarchical fluidity and an effortlessness that defines acceptance of a unique identity in the context of postmodernity rather than deliberate conscious resistance in the context of coloniality or postcoloniality. It speaks of creativity, reinterpretation and transformation. The smooth fluidity of language that melds the standard with dialect in a thought, in a phrase, in a sentence, shows not so much a rejection of historic influences but an acceptance of the new self, the birth of a Caribbean identity in which colonialism and an ethos defined by resistance to it are merely blurred distant memories. Caribbean code-flow essentially involves and emerges from an unequivocal acceptance of all aspects of a new self: Africa, Europe, India and Mesoamerica, all integral to the new identity through reinterpretation and transformation. It is méstissajé, creolité, unrepentant.