Roy Joseph Cotton – September 11, '53 – March 10, '85

Roy commenced writing poetry during his latter school years. He read prolifically and was passionate about music and was a devote to Bob Dylan. He wrote many plays or "Musical Paintings" as he called them, and was also busy with two works "Multimythicum" and "Girlpools, Whirpools, and other gusts of Twirling Hair". He wrote from the security of a warm, close family in a comfortable Cape Town (South Africa) suburb. Yet most of his huge output of poems reflect a consuming angst. It was an angst which drove him to search for peace throughout books, music, writing, and religion, and it led to ultimate despair. His highly idiosyncratic way with language and the intense pressure of his emotional and spiritual concerns make his poetry compelling and disturbing reading. His untimely death at age of 31 cut short his promising career as a poet.

Ag, Man

COULD NOT INFORM

NEVER SATISFIED

COMFORTS FRIGHTEN ME

DRIVE-IN CINEMA

SOUTH AFRICAN LANDSCAPE

SOUTH AFRICAN PULSE

A SOUTH AFRICAN DAY

A DREAMPOEM TO BOB DYLAN FROM SUN CITY

TSOLO, TRANSKEI

SULINKAMA, TRANSKEI

LAUGHING XHOSA PATIENTS GATHERED AROUND A WHITE BABY

WATCHING THE CONSTRUCTION SITE AT THE CORNER OF ALICE STREET IN THE HEAT

AT LOUIS LEIPOLDT’S GRAVE

INDIGENOUS LETTERS FROM HELL

TO MY FATHER ALONE ON HOLIDAY IN AUSTRLIA

I LIKE SEEING MY SISTER IN LOVE

AN EARLY MORNING PRAYER FOR MARK

TO MY BABY NEPHEW THREE MONTHS OLD

CRAIGIE YELLING SCREAMING OFTEN CRYING THESE DAYS

FOR A GIRL WHO CAN’T COPE

HOW MY EYES YEARN

THE PREDICAMENT

MY HEART IS HEAVY

HER WHOM I WILL SURELY MEET

THE SWANS OF ALL I HAVE

TWO PASSING QUAIL

THE DILEMMA OF THE CRAB

ANOTHER SUPPRESSED STARTLING DISAPPOINTED

TO A BEETLE PADDLING IN ARLENE’S POOL

SPIRITUAL SALMON

THE MOLE AND THE FOX CONFRONT GOD

A COCKROACH MEDITATING

DARLING ANTELOPE

TO A SILENT STREAM

THE PLOYS OF THE DEVIL

ANYTHING WITHOUT GOD

THE BEAUTY OF DAVENING

OUR HUMAN HEART

IT’S A STROLL WITH THE LORD

MELVILLIAN VISION – TIME AGAIN

STILL THIS PERVADING SORROW

FEAR (CREEPING THROUGH THE UNDERGROWTH)

FEAR (I AM SURROUNDED)

MELANCHOLY MORNING

NON COMPREHENDOS

RETURN TO CAPTIVITY

IT’S NOT GOING TO BE EASY

THE TREES ARE TOO POWERFUL

A POEM OF WHITE YEARNING

FOR SO LONG NOW

THE WORM NIBBLES

WHAT CAN I SAY?

DEATH WILL BE A RELIEF

ON CONTEMPLATING SUICIDE

ON MY ATTEMPTED SUICIDE

THE BED IS MY GRAVE

TO DYING LILIES

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