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.

‘HAVE MERCY’ CRIED THE CLOCK
UNTO THE TREES

‘Have mercy’ sed the blind
clock to my tea;
‘Have mercy’ –

sed dana unto mr me But laughingly
i did not listen.

‘Have mercy’ they sed to me at
the Perm

‘Have mercy’ i sed unto them thru the
means of, still unflrm: the Glowing

unto sickness still.

‘Have mercy’ i cried unto
the first beethoven ministril;

‘Have mercy’ i cried unto the Cross
unto the Clock unto the Tree;
‘Have mercy’ unto me

eeeee have mercy eeee
like the seaaaa at noon

have mercy on my dreams;
’cause I’m just a hasbeen

And I’m no more than here alone, with everything
that’s left, yet to fear

‘Have mercy’.