Rocky Street Prayers

This poem commemorates my 1999 meeting with the celebrated Beat Poet, Sinclair Beiles in Yeoville Johannesburg.

Super-annuated Sinclair Beiles Who has survived through many storms and gales Comes walking in out from the rain Sinclair ’Good to see you again And placing his umbrella down He grins his grin and looks around The waitress smiles and says hello And brings him a cappucino He wears a tie like of a clown And grins with no trace of a frown By night he plys the surgeons steel By day crafts words that make us feel The ordinary things of which he writes Become rare moments of delight all of which impress on us The sublime and the ridiculous He daily wages war with words With adjectives and nouns and verbs He will not relent With passion and a quiet rage On an unthinking and unfeeling age While all the world pursues mere cash He salvages his jewels from trash And shall not forsake the poets vision For internet or television I come drink coffee at ‘Times square’ I come to write and grow my hair The service sometimes polite or rude Depending how much you tip for food As I glean my teeming brain To the sound of falling rain Which damps the passing feet of folk Who come in here to eat or smoke They carry dreams on tired feet Our prayers fly up from Rockey Street It’s nice to sit in here and eat Or talk poetry with an authentic`beat’, The beatific ticks of Sinclairs heart Driven by love of literature and art In an age short of appreciation Great words wasted on a nation Oh how shall Sinclair Beiles, or you,or me Resurrect respect for poetry As many writers, starved , unknown Trudge down Rockey street, alone With noble dreams which no soul shares Because profits dividends and shares Have stole the affections of our hearts And murdered any true love for art Is there anyone upstairs to hear these prayers Is there truly any soul who cares While we trudge our dreams on tired feet Our prayers fly up from Rockey street