I have been shallow, I realize that now
Considering my impact on others first
Leaving the concerns of materialistic importance for myself.
In this double life I have been leading I have fooled myself
Trying to find reason to believe in others
I ignored that it is myself that needs believing in.

My critical eyes have become my enemy
Rendering me blind to obvious faults
Without knowing, I have trapped myself  deeper in their clutches
Focusing on disconnecting from my mind
Backfiring because I'm back in their world
Unintentionally, it's all I think about.

It's time to rethink my strategy
Take a refresher course on my mission.
Attempts to suspend the command unwanted have been countless,
And unknowingly, I have deserted control of the living, breathing, me.
I blindfolded myself, but still peered through the gaps
So I'm closing my eyes, and pray sleep stays for a while.

Keeping finger and thumb apart
That is the one connection we shall still share
But no longer will i try to believe in my two selves
No, I will start believing in the person
The being that my movements and choices will give effect and reward to.
Me, out here. Living and breathing.

The ghost of me will never cease to exist
She will float, and I will let her continue for a while.
Don't fret, my beloved enemy, I'll be back soon
A Wendy to this Peter Pan story
Returning with needle and thread to sew my old shadow to my feet.
But now, I'm flying, no, walking back home.
Farewell.

Vaulting canyons soar on high
Shadows vast in orange sun,
Expedition treads the stones
Of exploration Mars begun.
Shifting sands in freezing breeze
Desolation’s red extreme,
Lifeless in the breathless air
As yet, no living thing be seen.

But soon…
Found beneath the rust red plain
Of ancient planet Mars afar,
The relics of an ancient tribe
Of humanoids who fled the star.
Humanoids so far advanced,
Far beyond our knowledge bounds,
Far beyond our comprehension’s
Grasp of that which now, confounds.

Far advanced but still despaired,
Despite the organisational skill,
Destroyed the lakes and seas of Mars
With need and greed and get and kill.
Destroyed the soft green slopes of grass,
Destroyed the gentle surge of surf,
Destroyed tomorrow’s promised day
With need and greed, for what they’re worth.

Buried deep within the sands
Soaring spires of cities great,
Skeletons of millions caught
By greed’s black devastation’s hate.
Greed’s black hand which gambled all
On fate’s capitulated hand,
To smite the delicacy of
This planets eco-balanced land.

Mars collapsed with quick accord
The atmosphere constricted, cold.
Vegetation died en masse
Population withered old.
A frantic few survived to flee
With silver ark to virgin Earth,
(Where dinosaur now roam the shores),
To resurrect a new rebirth.

A new rebirth in promised land
Where old mistakes should not be made,
Where simple rules shall stay the hand
Of they who walk in light and shade.
A new rebirth on planet Earth
Will guarantee a life of gold
To future generation’s child
Who shall, (we promise), grow, safe, old.

Marshalg
On the eve of man’s great push to planet Mars.
25 May 2013
Pukehana Paradise.

A pair of identical twins, a pair of breasts –
I wonder if we shall stay as similar when I become an adult
or if December 29th, 2013, I am to be a sleepyhead
no more. I wake up early and go to work and come back home
without needing you, broad man, to prop up my bones.

I wonder if adolescence is merely acting as a canvas
perhaps off-white, but not intricate,
expecting, waiting for an artist to sculpt from the material:
mine mine mine a man of twenty-five, small feet
big fingers soft toes a heart that bleeds paint clumsily.

I became him somehow, and the opposite of him, too.
The body language, stepping chest-first,
it appears so similar as if we were ghosts of each other but it
nevertheless feels that he and I are never in a same room
watching separate films on TV with the same words.

To be careless, I wonder if that is adult
because if the contrary is true I have been there forever
and the train I made him venture did not have that destination.
I wonder if being a lady is different than being
a man. I wonder if we can be identical when I turn 18.

One day, he will sneak up behind me,
And cover my eyes with his soft hands.
I will know it is him; the tenderness of his touch will tell me.
The smell of his skin, rich and warm, will tell me.
The velvety breath, caressing my neck, will tell me.
I will know it is him.

He may attempt to conceal it,
But I will know that gentle voice,
I swear on the sun, it has been ringing in my ears since the day I was born.
I will know that voice.

And with my knowing smile,
I will turn to him;
And he will take me
in the grasp of his strong arms.
He will take me.

He will steal my words with his passionate embrace
before I have the chance to tell him how deeply I longed for him.
Before I have the chance to tell him:
"I am yours, for ever more."

But I think, by then, he shall already know it.

Death.

As we fall so shall we rise
where the truth became the lies and the blue that I saw was not the blue deep in your eyes
but the shadows that played underneath azure skies
where judgements like wine
flowed from the vine and the pillars of palaces wrapped in pearl necklaces
came tumbling down.
In the time of nothing and plenty where nothing sufficed
and sacrifices were made upon the altars of Gods we no longer prayed too
and the blue that I saw was not there any more but had challenged itself to turn grey.

This was another day that I sat and waited for inspiration to come
Grey
no sun, just grey
where the lights fade away and the colours wash dry and the cry that tries to creep out from my parched lips is stripped of its sound
and no sound issues forth but a grunting (pig that I am..of course)
Then in the distance it takes for time to make its movements around the night where the aches and the pain can only be cured by (novo.'co)caine'
and in the backlots where hotshots sold cheap goods on the side
I slide deeper in the dark and by the lake within the park where the ducks have long gone to the market a song comes to mind,
(pack up your troubles in your old kit bag..)
and I find it's not that bad
it's not that great
I can take a little stress so let them try to mess with me and we'll see what we will see when I rise to find the blue becomes again the colour in your eyes and the shining from your face is the sun set in another place..yes the day has come once more
the day that I once read about and swore it was a fairy tale.
Thus again the light shines upon the madness of our times and I for one am glad
that today it doesn't seem so mad
but we shall see.