Czechoslovakia, by Sinclair Beiles

the tide runs out
and gangsters strut along the beach
while fighter jets roar overhead
in towns where tyranny clicks its heels
free men are exiled to the rainy squares
- screams like cattle waiting to be slaughtered -
rifle fire drowns out retreating music
and on the promenades where lovers used to meet
soldiers with savage eyes mount the machine guns.
men whose dreams were smashed by blaring radios
stare from cafes with frightened eyes
and flags flap like vicious whips
as dark curtained limousines
speed through the murdered streets.

(from Ashes of Experience, Wurm Publishers, Pretoria, 1969)

Street corners, by Sinclair Beiles

Many things happen on street corners.
Lovers part with a kiss
Salesmen smooth down their hair
And straighten their ties
Cloth manufacturers stare
At the hair on the napes
Of schoolteachers' necks
Blind musicians play accordions
Little boys hand out yellow leaflets
Shop assistants straighten their green skirts
And old dogs on leashes relax and take a piss.
Oh my heart!

(from Ashes of Experience, Wurm Publishers, Pretoria, 1969)

A song, by Sinclair Beiles

My dress fell.
It fell about my feet
Like a pool in the rocks.
Come close to me.
Lick my skin
And you will taste the sea.

(from Ashes of  Experience, Wurm Publishers, Pretoria, 1969)