Sunday-empty Auckland my pre-breakfast escape,
Sheep-spotted mountains in early morning mist,
Whangarei marina for a cauldron of cappuccino.
Shop of metal sheep starts a day of Kiwi weirdness,
Of customer requesting glassblowing lessons, and
“All Blacks” silk boxers, unworn by players I hope.

Driving to Dargaville for Mr. M. Ujdur museum treat,
That late gum-digging, Esperanto teaching, vintner.
Beside a colossal collection of accordions with muzak,
Playing an instrument-impossible Whiter Shade of Pale,
Plus coins and buttons and stamps and Scotsmen,
Left feeling stunned, like I was tripping on acid.

The possum cull with prizes seemed almost normal.

Sea rolls darkly in timeless silence,
Salt waves foam in endless harmony.
Drowning in your liquid eyes tonight,
Dreaming I feel the touch of your love,
Your soft warm body curling around me,
Sensuous darkness of living in your love.
Hearts and waves beat in synchronicity.

An altitude of ale
A barometer of beer
A circulation of champagne
A depression of damassine
An equilibrium of eau de vie
A fractus of fenny
A gust of grappa
A hail of horilka
An isotherm of icewine
A jet stream of jenever
A kilopascal of kirsch
A layer of limoncello
A metamorphism of mead
A nocturnal of nuvo
An overcast of ouzo
A persistence of porter
A reaction of rakia
A storm of sake
A torrent of tequila
An updraft of unicum
A vortex of *****
A winter of whiskey

A disaster of drink

Our so-empty lives are filled with pointless plans,
Every decision impacts life, and sometimes death.
The earth split -  death was in that sometimes day,
Where unending need became the end of their world.

Montana was my home-from-home in Haiti,
Art deco paradise, an instant hellish grave.
What of my shoeshine man with ***** shoes?
Two hundred dead too hard, one is possible.

Little things we do to change the world,
The smallest possibilities in this nightmare,
Saving lives each day with lifeline texts,
Today we are the hand of God in hell.

The verbal diarrhoea of a politician’s promises
Flows over a broken roof of dripping umbrellas
Hustings heckling hastening onset of pneumonia
Voters need every candidate to be seen and heard.

Un-hygienic kissing of babies and pressing the flesh
Flash avoiding fixed smile like toothpaste commercial
Thinks - one man one vote a bad idea by Election Day
I wonder does every candidate vote for themselves?

Tense wait as political pundits make newsless news
Oscar like performances as the winners are announced
Four-more-years in The Slough of Despond for the loser
The Olympian heights of triumph for the winner.

Yo estaba muy
cerca de la muerte hoy,
en el camino a Cochabamba.
Las "muchas" líneas de cruces tristes,
ninguna de ellas previsto para morir.
¿Cómo puede usted saber?
¿Cómo saber?
¿Cuándo?
Yo vivo cada día
como si fuera mi último.
Así que
cuándo
llegue
al final
del camino,
deseos incumplidos,
no me atormentarán
en la vida próxima, si hay una.

Woe is the man who revels in romance
He must hide his revelling from the world.
Never on a bus or plane or train, have you
Seen a man reading a romance novel, the
Lurid cover compelling the reader to delve
Into the protagonists embarrassment of
Embraces, between the satin sheets.

Everything eventually ends
No matter what we want
Last chapter of a book
Last day of summer
Last day in school
Last day in a job
Last day on earth

Everything eventually ends
Despite dislike it’s over
You close the book
You watch leaves fall
You start to understand
You start a new adventure
You live before you die

Everything
Eventually
Ends
Embrace
Change
Anticipate
The new
Begin living

God of love
A child of the
Night after Chaos
Spawned of the
Night and Darkness.

His glittering
Golden wings
Swift as the
Whirlwinds of
The tempest.

He mated
In the deep Abyss
With Chaos to hatch
A fourth race which
Saw the light
To become
Human.

You lie in bed and close your eyes,
Your heart beats fast as you fantasise,
The restless feelings deep inside begin,
Hot as his fingers trace across your skin,
Over the hills and valleys his magic touch,
That exquisite burning fire you love so much,
Lips taste your passion wet musk perfume,
The urgent coaxing of the flower to bloom,
You lust on fire for him to take you over,
****** deep and bring you - oh so clever,
The thorns of pleasure - searing height,
As two are one and perfect is the night.

Every time we close our eyes to opportunity,
Every time we step over a helpless beggar,
Every time we ignore a friend who needs us,
Every time we forget to say goodbye.

Every time we prefer black and white to colour,
Every time we wash our mind with TV soap,
Every time we sit when tempting travel beckons,
Every time we turn the music on to dull.

Every time we bottle rage as if it precious was,
Every time we crush a new idea with sarcasm,
Every time we simply could not care to listen,
Every time we refuse a friends helping hand.

Every time we sleep instead of making love,
Every time we withhold our love as a miser would,
Every time we walk alone instead of holding hands,
Every time we cause pain that a smile could cure-



We die a little every time.

When I close my eyes and listen to
The thlunk of the fridge door,
The burble of water boiled,
The clink of a cup stirred,
The rasp of knife on toast,
The crispness of bacon frying,
The sweetness of butter melting,
The tartness of orange squeezed,
The closeness of breakfast for two,
The rustle of night-time silk,
I am where I love to be,
Close to you.

Your old blindness
Now crystal clear
The world around
Now light bright.

It’s not just vanity
Friends assure you
And you look great
Did you get face lift?

No just new glasses!

Here is life and love, pain and pleasure,
Ten years traversing those steps,
Tired waitress, twelve hours hell,
I am facing the door in Fratelli’s.

Too-jolly Australians on a budget,
Eating soup and dessert, are missing,
The pasta, the best part, it seems,
I am facing the door in Fratelli’s.

Miscreant male constantly corralled,
By his Austrian authoritarian aunt,
Filling her face with a pasta mountain,
I am facing the door in Fratelli’s.

New lovers lost in each other’s eyes,
Carpaccio di salmon slices sharp cold,
Their Gaja Barbaresco lust blood red,
I am facing the door in Fratelli’s.

Old lovers holding hands in silence,
Pasta warm feelings of Taglioni Fratelli,
This Chianti Classico two will soon be one,
I am facing the door in Fratelli’s.

Married couple, on different planes,
Broadcast to their neighbours the plans,
Of loveless friends in lifelong *******,
I am facing the door in Fratelli’s.

Meal memories of two and more,
Of friends and family, work and play,
Life and love and unforgettable moments,
I am facing the door in Fratelli’s

When I was just seven years old.
I believed that I could run as fast
As a plane which was flying slow,
And so small, and high in the sky.

But my runway was short, and I
Ran out of road, and into a van,
The driver was laughing, at my
Failure to fly, without any wings.

But for the van, I believe that I would
Have flown up in the sky, but instead
I just ran away, so that was the last
Time I tried to take off from a road.

Before I was born my fate was a thread,
To be spun and measured and cut at a time,
Determined by Fates inflicted on men.

Why is an impossible burden allotted to me?
And why the decision that since
Pandora was created,
My fate ever since,
Is determined,
By spinning of thread,
In the sandstorm of life,
By immortals who meddle.
On this earth, when I really prefer,
To be left on my own to live life in despair?

With my daily bread and a glass of wine,
And the love of the woman I love by my side,
Who sleeps in my arms as I dream or my fate.

He had sunken, slightly disappointed, kind eyes,
Illness barely gave him 3 score years and 10.
He always expected that God would intervene,
To prevent business failure after Biblical 40 years.
Trusting faithfully to the end – a gentle man.

“Look after your Mother” – his last words to me.

Softness envelopes you like a warm cloud
Sensuous touch brings us closer than skin
Time stops for almost endless moments as
We fly higher than the moon in the morning.

We are always good together methinks and
"Nothing can do us any harm"- like that song
We made out to from the White Album many
Years ago when you were just as beautiful
As you are today in our rumpled feather bed.

The cold snow stops me feeling
Anything, for anyone, anymore,
Which is why it’s come to needing
Escape from the consequences,
Of living my life, in a long tunnel.

The cold snow leaves a strange
Numbness, undesired at first,
But becomes a black friend who
So many desire but for most,
Is rarely found, except in a bottle.

Being 50 you
should be glad
100 would be
twice as bad.

Fingers tracing crazy patterns on your skin
Indelible memories of love lasting long after
Those skin-close moments have become
A smile I savor in my private moments
In the emptiness of our endless days apart.

Fingers touching me while touching you
Impossible closeness unforgettable after
Those magic-time memories have become
A smile you savor in your private moments
In the loneliness of our endless days apart.

Fingers tingling in delicious afterglow of the
Incredible heights of perfect passion after
Those laser-sharp memories have become
A smile we savor in our private moments
In the closeness of our endless days apart.

Fifty years a-growing with my pigtailed friend
I was frogs and snails and she was sugar and spice
Attraction of tortoise petting a perfect way to diet
Red-faced, tongue-tied, secret Confirmation admirer

Nucleus beauty besotted beard route to romance
Coffee and gooseberries companionship cooking
Chicken and almonds the way to this man's heart
Townley Hall first loving to closeness ever after

Tented separation in Mweenish was chilly silliness
Yellow bikini starvation Brighton beach memories
Sneaking bedroom cuddles in Westone wedding
Graduated to Beaufield dinners and Blue Nun

Parents fret about their two kids with two kids
Life challenges met in the riches of poverty
Grateful when God's surprising Gift was given
Altogether life more balanced and beautiful

Entrepreneurial pride of parents flying high
The stars of sons the brightest in the sky
The workaday challenges a learning lesson
Lunch in Powerscourt the pleasure of poverty


We fly and we fall but catch each other every day
In heaven at last in the castle of our dreams
"Ticks all the boxes" of my blonde beauty
Perfect harmony a Gateway to perfect storm

Togetherness triumphs over taxman trials
Best times ever as we conquer the world
Olympic pride and gradual OU degrees
Make sunburst of pride as we grow

Icarus-like flight forgiven not forgotten
Revalue every "for granted" magic moment
"I want to grow old with you" wish and fear
Strength stronger than stupidity and stuff

In fear and loneliness I see fire and I see rain
I see sunny days now that we are one again.

Do you remember when she first held your hand?
Thirty seconds that seemed like thirty minutes,
The first kiss thrills with a scrambled egg feeling,
You simultaneously slightly drunk and flying high.

Never forgotten, never repeated, frozen instants,
The forever moment, now forever lost in time,
Unless she said yes and that faint reminder,
Of your first love, is a morning coffee smile.

All we can do makes no difference
All that we see makes it worse
All that we feel is more pain
All that we say is useless
All that we are is dust
All that we want is
Impossible unless
We take the
First step.

The moment of capture frozen, red-eyed, real
The playing of children free, magic, mud-filled
The conundrums of youth Beboed, carefree, cool
The adventures of travel, pink, tanned, taciturn
The history of love smiling, promising, pleasures
The marriage of minds trusting, glowing, giving
The responsibility of two eager, anxious, angry
The coldness of career tough, real, redundant
The birth of babies screaming, fragile, forever
The parties of New Year old, new, necessary
The death of life tearful, premature, passive
The optimism of hope fresh, green, growing
The world of pictures captured, mirrored, mine
The memory of forever posed, startled, stunned

1 simple set of instructions
4 heavy flatpack boxes
5 square aluminium legs
27 painted pieces of wood
100 ridged wooden dowels
101 white plastic ***** covers
102 blister-causing screws of various sizes.


Assumption that no unter or ober
Equals drunken waves of shelves
Sadly means finished is unfinished
Reworked masterpiece complete at last
Male ego boosted by admiring plaudits
Value enhanced by effort expended
Flatpack frustration in 4 easy pieces.

Sympathyless disbelief when I complain again,
Delays are the balance for the glamour of flying.
Nine hours in Sao Paulo while the ATC strike,
Eight hours in Vienna while new wheel flies in,
Seven sins would be justified by this purgatory,
Six times six hours from CBB to DUB last week,
Five hours sweating in Port au Prince plastic chair,
Four hours for rain in Miami seems not so bad,
Three hours in Shannon for bomb threat search,
Two hours sitting in Seattle with mad dash in Kennedy.
One would be happier walking, swimming or driving.

I travel into your liquid eyes this evening
Your smile just makes my grey day bright
Touch, with a feeling more than closeness
Tenderly coaxing the gentle flower to bloom.

I taste your sweeter than honey lips now
Your beating heart makes mine miss a beat
Loving, with a passion more than blood
Tingling temptation as the petals open now.

I feel your body closer than skin tonight
Your fingers desire claw me to you again
Passion, flying together in time and space
Deafening tranquillity as two become one.

After three drinks, I sit and focus
On the night in Santo Domingo,
Like Greene’s Honorary Consul,
It is “the right measure” for me,
Beckett reads Beckett remembering.
Where he strips man’s inexhaustible
Search for meaning to bare bones.


These thoughts aided by a smooth
Handmade cigar and Carlos Primero,
I wonder as I focus on this scrap of
Scribbles should I keep it, or leave it
On the table, for some ***** to read,
While he smokes the dog-end of
What was a reasonably good cigar?

Adrenaline invincible speed empty road 3am,
Invisible tree stops speed & time forever.
Loved one’s anguish howl from 5am knock,
“Your baby died in a wreck on the highway”,
His 30 seconds of fame on the 8am news.
Life must go on for those not forever young,
Empty chair, empty life and broken hearts,
Missing him every second now forever old,
Anger at the waste of young life cut short.

Love is so easy, forgetting is so hard.
I remember every moment I am alone
With you in the companionship of silence.
What do you think, where will I go now?
Staring into the blue ocean of your eyes.

Love is so short, forgetting is so long.
I remember every inch of you in my dreams
Without you in my empty room tonight.
What do you dream, where do you go now?
Staring at two ceilings across two oceans.

Love is so full, forgetting is so empty.
I remember your every electric touch,
Without you my world could not turn.
What do you feel, where do we go now?
Staring at the deep ocean of our love.

Of
Green
Was how I
Felt as I watched
50 Shades with Chinese
Subtitles and thinking that
This is the “Least ****** Movie”

I have seen

Sultry looks but no hearts beating
Faster, or “Here to Eternity”
Moment, just moving
Wallpaper, a waste
Methinks of my
St. Patrick's
Day .

Weekend beckons as work crazy week ends
Winter fire, relaxed dinner, wine warm glow
Couch cosy snuggle, TV moving wallpaper
Later virtual dog and neighbour walk to pub
Bar wisdom sets the world to rights again
Depression, recession is one drink less
Striding home in no worries happy haze
Warm bed snuggles with my best girl
Week ends wonderfully again.

Chica cailiente, straightest hair,
Image rich, asset poor tonight,
**** sirens, seeking Mr. Right.
On this Friday in Santo Domingo.

Single fathers with kids, eager
To earn a weekly happy moment,
For all the mistakes of the past,
On this Friday in Santo Domingo.

The other men are here hunting,
Searching, looking everywhere,
But, into their partners’ eyes,
On this Friday in Santo Domingo.

The girls here are too young,
The men are twice their age,
Desperately looking for love,
On this Friday in Santo Domingo.

Wanda greets me with a “Hi” and a hug,
?Qué hora es el vuelo los lunes¿ she asks,
Touch-less communication is absent here,
“Ocho y media” I reply in almost Spanish,
To be sure I email my itinerary for pickup,
“Tener un buen fin de semana” she says,
As a parting hug ends the conversation,
On my visit to the right side of Hispaniola.

Listening to David Bowie’s
“The Man who sold the World”
While reading Philip K. ****'s
"The Man in the High Castle"
As I was flying between
Vienna and Lisbon
I was struck by how hard
It is to execute strategy
Because we stick in the
Now - that we know.

Looking back at all the
Companies, now all closed
That I have worked in
Who did not transform
To meet the transition
From "was" to "when",
I see clearly how
To help you see, “how”
To escape, from the
Now - that you know.

Head throbs, I want results, I need results, today,
No dice, I want a gun, persuasion, for results, now,
Idiots all around, is it me or is it them, I wonder,
I see them dead, better than Red I think, but,
Why so hard I ask, always the same, pain again,
A voice inside says, that is why, I still get paid
Big bucks, to take this strain, and not complain,
I need a cat, to kick, humane, because it seems,
It will survive with nine lives, and I have only one.

Living
Is giving
All of you,
In lots of
Little pieces.

Until you feel
Empty – then,
Something
Happens.

You start
To feel,
Alive.

How fragile is our small world today,
Living in this glass bottle of our life.

Where guilt is the fear of discovery,
Where silence is the hope of salvation,
Where greed is the reason for everything,
Where lies are the stones that shatter,
Where love is the desire for peace,
Where hate is the anger of envy,

How complex is our small world today,
Living in this glass bottle of our life.

Diamonds of shattered glass sparkle in sunlight,
Grey cobbles contain a memory of past violence,
Was it blood and bone remnants of a car crash,
Or a ***** toast, of a long night of celebration?
Evidence of these past events a glass memory of
Unrecorded pictures, as my feet crunch through,
A brittle history of a Saturday night in Auckland.

Is this madness, this something called love?
And sometimes desire and often just lust.
When I drown in the moment I forget who
I am, and more important, who I am not.
When the time comes for our goodbyes,
A last kiss always stays with me, so that
Although we’re apart, I know we are not.

When we are apart a part of me is missing
When we are one we fly “Over the Town”
When we are down we build each other up
When you say “Hi” a thrill runs down my back
When you are sad I want to hold you close
When you are happy my sun shines brighter
When you are in my arms you are always safe
When you wake with me the world is perfect
When you are blue I can wipe away your tears
When you are with me I am a better man
When I have news you are the first one I tell
When I am frightened you are my anchor
When I grow old I always want to be with you.

Being fifty you
Should be glad as one hundred
Would be twice as bad

Hands held
Fingers touch
Eyes smile
Happy glow
Warmth flows
Air charged

Hug hungry
Bodies close
Hearts beat
Happy rhythm
Lips kiss
Time stops

Is a million memories ...

Like your favourite Beatles track,
Like breakfast coffee in a Turin bar,
Like the old friends that never grow old,
Like your favourite Italian pasta in Rome,
Like summer swims in warm sea with cold rain,
Like the aria which sends shivers down your spine,
Like the magical taste of Gaja Barberesco for lunch,
Like coming home to a smiling face after a long trip,
Like your child buying you dinner for the first time,
Like how beautiful she was on your wedding day,
Like your first date movie being on TV again,
Like capturing a moment in a photograph,
Like rereading your favourite book,
Like watching Casablanca again,
Like publishing your first book,
Like living every moment...

... And a million more to come.

Hello is just too a small word to express the
Happiness of hearing your voice, the close
Feeling I get when we talk, I wonder why?

Five letters in a word that was made for us
Because of the telephone, what happened
Before, was it just "How do you do today? "

This does not explain why, when you pick up,
My heart beats fast when you say the word,
And the missing-you distance is not so hard.

If in doubt
Knock ‘em out
According to the
NYC epitaph of
Big Vinny

Hold me tight just a little bit longer
No words can bring us closer than skin
You are my Sunday morning moment

A breakfast in bed relaxation becomes
Silken silence like a deep dark lake
Hold me tight just a little bit longer

Warm bodies become lazy lovers
This perfect time must last forever
You are my Sunday morning moment

I am as vulnerable as a fractured moment
But you make me whole again today
Hold me tight just a little bit longer

Come back to bed for one more minute
Too soon relaxation is slipping away
You are my Sunday morning moment

A daydream shower maintains the spell
Steamy moment from steamy morning
Hold me tight just a little bit longer
You are my Sunday morning moment

Perfected spending ideal day off
Prepared a hot breakfast in bed
Procrastinated Java or Columbia
Perused the paper cover to cover
Perplexed prayer over crossword
Pampered by bath-time bubbles
Phoned almost forgotten friends
Purchased Murakami on Amazon
Polished off a lunchtime martini
Postponed exercise with siesta
Perambulated the beach slowly
Pushed the boat out for dinner
Preferred Barolo to Barbaresco
Panicked - work again tomorrow.

Home is
A feeling you get,
You don’t need to fret,
When at ease in your mind,
You can just relax and unwind,
No need to live a life out loud,
You can be alone in a crowd,
At one with your heart,
In a place apart.
At home.