Six thousand miles of difference
Determined by mans’ hand,
Of greed and power sought by him
Against his fellow man.
Six thousand miles of difference
Exacted by a thought,
That life should be a harmony
Or life should be as nought.


A still and utter peacefulness
Pervading in the air
Normalities great splendour here,
In order everywhere.
A dog barks in the evening light
As neighbours mow the lawn
And the distant hum of traffic
From yon motorway, forlorn.


Shattered buildings teeter
To the concrete debris strewn,
Through war torn streets of battle
Where hot shrapnel sears the noon.
Where blood pools in the broken glass
And fear is in the air,
And the shriek of rockets plummeting
Cause a heartbeat to despair.


Leafy streets of sanctity
Where people mix at will,
Chimney smoke which spirals
In atmosphere tranquil.
Couples saunter, arm in arm
Children laugh and play
The normal, here, is everywhere
Upon this peaceful day.


Decapitated corpses wash
In blood, red surge of sea,
An encounter in the wrong place
Means a sudden death for me.
The skies are filled with torment,
The people quake with fear
As they cringe and flee, directionless,
To frantically keep clear.


Six thousand miles of distance
Determines where we stand,
In battles hell and maelstrom
Or walk free in this fair land?
In Syria’s catastrophe
Where men do **** at will,
Or walk in serene safety
On this lands’ grassy hill



Six thousand miles of difference
Determined by your hand
With greed and power sought by man
Against his Makers’ plan.
Six thousand miles of difference
Exacted by a thought…
-That life shall be a harmony
Or life shall be a nought.


Marshalg
Ascot Hospital
Auckland
19 November 2012

© 2012 Marshal Gebbie

Alcoholic writer is a brand
But is worthy of monuments
Schizophrenic mind, neurotic head
Pull out the monsters from under the bed
And give them a home in your story

You’ve got to feel it in your bones
Said the artist of integrity
They ***** a crucifix, they dig your grave
Later they’ll analyze how you behaved
And build you temples of worship

No one wants to be a fossil
In the backwoods of one’s own skull
In a world that pushes you away
Then in death embraces your way-
That kind of imitation is not flattery

So support your fellow man
While he’s still kicking
Buy him a drink
Ask him to think
And get his autograph on a ***-soaked napkin