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  Dec 2023 Marshal Gebbie
Max Neumann
I saw the end of the wind
In a loop of time and dreams
For the birth of the benevolent
The love in a balloon's belly button
Between fingertip and string
In the grin of a canned child
Who is a belthead
Who ran through deserts
Among fathers and mirages
To pick up desert and water
To forget the sand and the water

I impregnated the end of the wind
With the cludgel of avarice
My head was bursting in wishes
I would spot demons made of gold
Dancing through the channels of future
Dressed in the loss of real love

I saw the end of love
Amid a chaos of winds
Within the fathers of mirages
Blown through the lips of the flying ones
In a mesh of tunnels
Tunnels are good for the dawn
The people of broken angels recover there
Come into my hug of winds
Deserts and waters belong to the wind
I got love for the luggage of your dreams
Red, round, real, racing, ripe love
The End Of The Wind
Marshal Gebbie Dec 2023
A failure to pursue
The very basic things in life
Shall lead to entanglements
Promulgating strife.
Shall lead insinuation,
In a flexing of the call...
That entitlements are really
Not entitlements, at all.

Assuming that the black man
Has blood as red as thine,
But thee are as lilly white
As a floret on a vine?
Assuming our assumptions here
Are sootier than sin
Then the rationale offered,
Is ridiculously thin.

Then you who have loved
Wear black hate in your heart
For they who aspire
To intrude from the dark,
All they, who conspire
To trespass your day
To sift carnally, perhaps,
Your lover away.

Who would argue, then,
The precipitous tone
That configures your honesty
When caught out alone.
Infidelity lost
In the mire of a lie....
Which, expediently, slipped
From your sweet lips, to fly?

Where now the mercy,
Where now the grace,
Of the insidious smirk
That smears your face...
Having eaten the turkey,
Savoured the wine
With those War torn Ghazan's
Starving, brutally, in grime?

The curse is all around us
The Woke, Effete and Prim,
The Holy and the Righteous
All wear that specious thing,
An Entitlement to Elevate,
A Right to Wear the Crown
A place just to the left of God
Which keeps the riffraff down.

Irrespective of the nation,
All languages and hue
Through strata of society
This malady is YOU!
This spectre of entitlement
In the self imposed Elite
Is now the key to immolation
In humanity's defeat.

M@Foxglove.Taranaki.NZ
30 December 2023
Marshal Gebbie Dec 2023
Jottings from the dog eared book
Remind me how, I once mistook,
That chance was that which forced the pace
When chance, of course, was luck displaced.
Counted realms of quick return
Of lotto tickets I've seen burn?
Traced the moments caste to wind
Of failures, forced to fast rescind?
Spat the bile of deep regret
As fickle fortunes plummet, yet.
Felt the panic coursing through
To good advice, ignored, from you.
Watched as good luck passed me by
Knowing full well ... Pigs Might Fly!
Sadly blind, to lessons learnt
To stagger forth... To Bridges Burnt!

M@Foxglove.Taranaki.NZ
  Dec 2023 Marshal Gebbie
Thomas W Case
There must be
a hell where
forgotten
words and lines
dwell.
Similes scamper,
lost like beetles.
Bat winged metaphors
fly to that dark
hell of forgotten
poems.
If those wandering
words escape, they are
gone forever.

When I swim in
the ink, and the
writing streak starts,
the prose comes to
me while I try to nap.
Now, I sleep with
pen and paper,
to put the words in
that white paper
prison where they
belong.
Check out my youtube channel and my book, Seedy Town Blues Collected Poems, available on Amazon.
  Dec 2023 Marshal Gebbie
jordan
he often reached too far
and sometimes lost his balance
but he always caught himself
like it was his greatest talent

but this time it feels different
like he's let go for too long
his recovery is slow
within, he feels withdrawn

the world will keep on spinning
even when he's gone
the important man he thought was
really wasn't all that strong

so he slides into darkness
he won't be missed at all
his broken heart is still
his oblivion has called
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