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Nov 19 · 39
Walking the Dark Mile
Spanning years the tide turns red
The ebb and flow of time,
Whilst thee and me remain transfixed
Perceptions have defined,
The very thought of interceptions
Make palpitations flow.
For Judas led me to the wall
As dark deceptions grow.
Harking to the antecedents
Harking back to them
Recalls the pall of bleak redemption
Smothering us, then,
That moment of anticipation
Fell upon the night
And all at once our resurrection
Felt, obliquely...right!

Cold hands touched my heart today
Colder eyes held mine,
But the ruse within the paradox
Bled the fear, in time.
For someone walked with me in rain,
Someone held my hand
And the palpable relief I felt
Let me understand....
That time, in passing, clarified,
Time thought "do" was "don't",
Where antagonisms rankled once
Your touch, my Sweetheart, .....won't!

M.
Foxglove, Taranaki NZ
19 November 2021
Nov 10 · 51
A Moment with Vix
There you stood, Vix,
Forlorn, alone in the afternoon light.
I read the sadness in your eyes
Felt the tension in your stance.
Wondered at the thoughts passing through your mind,
Wondered if hope swelled your heart.
Few are the days left to you,
Gone the promise of your tomorrows....

But you listened, quietly,
To my poem
Then gently blessed me with your lovely, winsome smile

...and secretly, deep inside, I cried for you, Vix.

M.
Foxglove, Taranaki
Early 2020
Cancer claimed a wonderful woman soon after this day. Astute, stately and smart, Victoria Cutelli had a rare poise that set her apart from others in life. A close companion and sister to my darling wife, Janet and loving wife of Gordon. She is so sadly missed every single day.
Nov 2 · 67
She's Gone.
Seems the time has fled like rain
My dear friend vanished too,
Vanished to the gossamer
Just dissipated through…..
One day here, gone the next
No words allaying cost,
Dismissal to the mists of time
Intangibly, just lost.

Your final poem posted
Instilling vibrant air
Of remorseless, sharp reminder
Of a vacuum hanging there.
A suspension of all feeling,
Of warmth and care and touch
The absence of your sunlit mirth
And laughter, loved so much.

A sadness hangs in silent  throng
And saddened voices sing
In wreaths of trite redemption
Which angry tears do bring.

But should you have a change of heart
One early, misty morn
To once again put pen to prose
To once again, adorn.....
Replete, shall be this simple soul,
Replete again to dwell,
To once once again devour your words
Forsaking forlorn Hell.

M.
Foxglove, Taranaki NZ
2 November 2021
A plea to those wondrous women
Who have chosen to depart the arena
For reasons of their own,
Be they fair or foul.
Consider the consternation and despair
Caused, imposed,
In the departure, the creative void,
Manifest in the dearth of continuance
Of your utter, poetic magnificence?

You are the very heart of our art.
Please, in the mist of morn,
Deem to return?
Oct 27 · 73
The Whysoever of Who?
The wheresoever, notwithstanding, when,
Is lost in the Insomuch's end.
Those vacillating on vaccines, I'm told,
Are bereft of emanations for the old....
A lack of understanding of the pain
Derived from work and then deprived of gain?
Derived from understanding on the shelf
Just consumed, in your preoccupations self!
However...
Whosoever whatsoever, then,
Go vaccinate, child,....it's definitely Zen!

M.
Foxglove, Taranaki NZ
27 October 2021
New snow has fallen on yonder hill
Lying juxtaposed in contrast, still,
Bringing salophen’s eddy of freezing air
Siphoning spontaneities sense of care,
Paradoxical paradigms laughter in mind
Twirling excitement’s contagion, refined,
In bewitching as serpentine’s spiral of mist
Engaged in delights of this happiness, kissed,
Enhancing enchantment’s Springtime flair
In an auburn glint through her sunlit hair,

The joy, the joy of this moment in time
Makes this wrinkled old smile, exclusively mine.

M.
The magical air of early Spring snow @ Foxglove
27 September 2021
(Salophen, a tetradentate Schiff base, in fluorescence sensing parameters)
Sep 21 · 254
Angela Walks Away...
Angela Merkel is walking away
The mantle swings to they,
Who  aspire now to replace her
And seek to win the day.
Pray now for the wisdom of Solomon,
Pray now that judgment won’t lapse,
Seek the best of hope to Heaven
That Germany won't collapse.

Collapse to the howls of the fascists,
Engage the undisciplined sin
Of disintegration's extremism
Where the origins of ISIS begin.
Pander to thugs, now demanding,
An end to immigrant days,
Through implacable acts of violence,
In hatred’s interplay's.

The fog of **** yesterdays
Hang cold, suspended there
Like ghosts recalling Auschwitz’
Implacable dead stare.
The chemistry repeats itself,
Thugs roam the street,
Fear, the key, reflected
In the eyes of some you meet.

Russia wields the key to heat
In leveraging the play
While France, as usual, vacillates
With Macron’s “non vouz parle”,
Boris waves his Brexit flag,
Inexorably, in retreat
Whilst Europe spins confusion
To the people in the street.

Choose wisely, now, replacement,
Ensure the strength is there,
Clear future pathways sagely,
(I beseech you now to care)...
Forge the way ahead in steel
And falter not, your step
For fate itself, is in your grasp
For Germany’s self respect.

M.
21 September 2021
Germany is Europe's lynch pin. The wealthiest nation, the most powerful industrialized country who, through Merkle's astute leadership, has provided, humane progressive refuge to the teeming refugees of Islam.
This to the detriment of the racial sensitivities of the increasingly vociferous far right of the country. Opposition now spilling over to incidences of thuggery and violence, hate and death. Angela Merkle's firm leadership kept a lid on it all and ran the gauntlet of political sniping from neighbouring influences........
But with her, no longer at the helm and in the face of rising insurrection, can Germany's huge, unwieldy equilibrium be maintained?
Sep 16 · 80
What's the Guts?
Where hides the gentle days gone bye
When we watched the World begin to cry?
Or chance that smile, when indiscreet
Or warmly greet when strangers meet?
Where lies legacy's charity play
For the lost in nether worlds' grim foray?
What the intent when your mind shuts the door
When pleas echo forth from those that implore?
Where lies your will to build on the don't,
Or the courage to do it, when all others won't?
What's the guts, my hesitant man
Cos' this old World's trying, to understand?

M.
16 September 2021
Sep 12 · 96
In Warlock's Way
Roiled in his writhing way
Mankind's ****** in manic play
Hurled forth to War's lament
All, once valued, sadly spent....
Pedantic though that beast may be
Enthralled by battle's fantasy
Of how it led in lethal boast
To death within appeals wry host,
Was this the way our world must lie,
Engorged, as bloated watchers cry?
Be this our fate in humankind
Where sighted saw whilst being blind?
Un-guided, now, this way of God
Where Caesars ghost, once sought and trod?

M.
September 12 2021
Planet Earth
Sep 8 · 50
Accruals
Accrue, I do
With vivre and flair
Despite the
Handicaps, apparent there.
Accrue as ardently
As I can
In lieu of
Limitations span,
Ingestion of
This days hard knocks,
The parody’s
Through induced shocks…
The ins and outs
Of life’s travail
To trample that
Which helps to veil,
Obscenities,
That intervene,
Through contemplation's
Selfish screen……
Yet all for one
And one for all....
Could prove, accruals,
My downfall?

M.
8 September 2021
Then how, Dear Sir,
Oh please explain
Why Wetbacks suffer
So much pain?
Why clear across
This Southern land
The Mexican,
With calloused hand,
Wears sweating brow
For little gain,
To endure
The Insults' searing flame,
When draped, nay clad,
In racial slur
To which, it seems,
******'s concur?

M.
In response to Wint's magnificent write "Worker Man"...questing deeply, why oh why, the Latins occupy such a low rung on the socioeconomic ladder of American society?

( When they contribute so much?)
Jul 18 · 57
The Pregnant Pause
Patience in the pass of time
Resurrects the need of mine
To ponder why, the where, the when
Mankind's courage tends to bend.
Be it in the space of fear
When a threat, perhaps, is near,
Be it in when a smarter man
Outwits with a sharper plan?
What the odds when she who smiles
Condescends our lesser wiles?
Painful should we all rescind
To insecurity's foul wind.

Why the quickened, racing pulse
As faster challengers convulse?
When hesitation in the heart
Circumvents the courage part?
Where that moments damning pause
Kills legality's last clause?
A gathered sweat on worried brow
Nervous twitching reveals, now,
Courage fled on wings of steel
Crystalizing what is real...
Hollow symptoms, (plain to me),
Timidity's complicity!.

M.
18 July 2021
I see more and people standing back, not wanting to get involved while
the heavies walk all over them. Timidity seems contagious in that most won't stick their neck out and back themselves. Whatever happened to the pride engendered by a performance involving courage and self respect?
Whatever happened to self esteem?
She runs through the street
In terror, distraught,
Bloodied knees bleeding
Mad eyes, contort.
The ones with the guns
Are hot on her trail
Mercilessly manifest,
Rapaciously male.

Windows shattered
Shelving laid bare
Unruly rioting
Careers everywhere.
Fires are burning,
Dead bodies in heaps,
Maniacal screaming
Killing Cops in the streets....

South Africa burns
As atrocities' flail,
Shotguns blasting
Lethality's hail.
Black men fleeing
In blind panic's fear,
Cowering whites know,
**** well, death is near.

Disorder splits
Through street and town
Causing Judges gavels,
To pound up and down.
Good hope and promise
Both strewn and escaped,
Caste out amidst filth
And callously *****.

Hope now beyond
The very ken of man
Seeing hate and fear
Has taken command.
Balance now tipped
Across the scale,
Hurling Africa's carnage
Beyond the pale.


M.
Watching Africa burn.
13 July 2021
Combinations, badly put
Assume dimension, found afoot,
The very stuff of human kind's
Ability to see ... whilst blind.

For instance, take the last four years
Where insanity drove dulcet fears,
Keelhauling reason's rationale
Beyond the realm, beyond the pale.

Consider this, Sir, if you will,
Fascination's trough of swill
Where every man beneath the sun,
Under the pillow, keeps a gun?

Intriguing how, across the globe,
Despite sophistication's robe,
Pandemic rages forth, unchecked,
To foolishness's disrespect.

Futility of righteous flame
In seeking absolution's claim
By whispering in hallowed ear
Thy Catholic sins in shades of fear.

East / West drowning in distrust,
Wall Street terrified of bust,
California's deep disdain
Of climate change's promised flame.

Some you win, some you lose
Wisdom depicts those who choose
Sink or swim, the game decrees,
Observing mankind on his knees.

Combinations, badly put
Assume dimension, found afoot,
The very stuff of human kind's
Ability to see ... when blind.

M.
Foxglove, Taranaki NZ
12 July 2021
In every day, in every way, with the Holy Grail within his grasp regardless of how little or how much he possesses, man, in his utter,  futile blindness, chases his tail in the pursuit of the more, the bigger or the better!
Jul 6 · 105
What's in a Name?
Humiliation touched me so
The feather touch of shame,
In having dwelt the weathered blow
Of embarrassment in my name.
From dynasties of ages past
My forebears strove to be,
Procurers of the portals in
The family names’ integrity.

Dank there, in the background,
Lurked a mystery of Jobe,
The riddle of impeachment
In the silken theft of robe.
A murkiness in origin,
The doubtfulness of frame
And the odour of a lie
Within veracity's dark stain.

Seeking through the archives,
Questioning those few
Old survivors of the family
Has left me here, adieu?
The recollections misty,
Most anecdotes, demure
And records from the Parish Church
Irritatingly, obscure.

Just can’t put my finger on it,
Or actually part the mists of time,
Or establish the candidacy
In this querulousness of mine.
But due to some portentous queries,
Innocuously made,
And some snide, salacious whispers,
Maliciously laid?

Thus, despite the searing,  livid flush
Of humiliations hue….
I’ll resume my quiet quest
To energetically, seek, anew….
The very confirmation sought,
Without a trace of blame,
In the voracity and honour
Of my good family name.

M.
Foxglove, Taranaki NZ
6 July 2021
You can't imagine the convolutions involved within this matter, nor shall you be privy to the secrets, withheld.....Ponder thus, as shall I.
Jul 5 · 303
Lust had a Cost
Would've if we could've
But lust has a cost,
Shouldnt've and wouldnt've
Until trust was lost,
Contemptibly, preemptively
We forced it at first
Predictably, restrictively
Left in the lurch,
Precisely, concisely
The sneer pulled it down
Impeccably, delectably
Turned laughter to frown
Conclusively, Intrusively
We both spat the dum
Then Sadder but gladder
Decided to run.

You sprinted East and I legged it West
Both relieved to be free
Devolved and absolved now,  
Both, contemptible we!

M.
North Queensland
1968
Some you win, some you lose
Only the wise effectively choose.
Purposeless this idyll, friend,
This void expanse of rhyme
When you and I and all the rest
Vacillate in time,
We vacillate in purpose,
Vacillate in gain
In intermittent vectors
Of vacillation shame.
Wasted in this interlude
of fumbling, bumbling fraud
When once, had we focused,
We could have reached accord?
M.
In  accord with Nat Lipstadt's searching work "We are So Lightly Here"
Jun 24 · 95
Allegory Inter-cine
Feathered touch of fingers, fine,
Allegory, lost to mine
But scythed with passion's gentle breath
When introspection walks with death.

Tethered, richly bound with twine,
Yet sodden stained in good red wine
False pretext by any name
An allegory's claim to fame?

Winsome in a lilting verse
Recited in a horse drawn hearse,
Tears run free down sorrows cheek
To fall like rain at maiden's feet.

Allegory's inter-cine
Bequeathed so breathlessly, as mine?
Cruel tangled in a soulless web
To bade farewell the dead, instead.

M.
24 June 2021
"Inter-cine" an abbreviation of the word "Internecine"
interpreted as meaning...Destructive to both parties.
No such word, you say?
If it was OK for Edgar Allen Poe to bend the language to his purpose,
then surely it is also, OK for me to do so .....OK?
M.
Foxglove, Taranaki NZ
Jun 21 · 127
The Gift of Time
Howling through this thrashing gale
Trees in tempest force, impale
Rain obliterating sky
Small birds huddle, fliers die.
Such is like across our sphere
Some feel joy, others fear,
As interludes of temperance slide
Through each mans fate as each man's guide.

Within this world of steel and stone
One would cringe if thoughts alone
Could render thus realities
To life's wild actualities.
But threading deep through habit's way
There sits an urgency to say,
Amid good fortunes willing path
There breeds creations' choice...to laugh.

Be that the way of every man
Induced, perhaps, to understand
Should life take on pedantic path
To such degree, that one might ask,
Wherein, wherefore this wayward tread
In whosoever feels the dread?
Impelled are they to weave the day
In flatulating care away.

But born, the one, who seizes life
He casts asunder worry's strife
To grasp the beating heart of day
Enriching stimulation's say.
For born is he who laughs aloud
Whilst watching rainbows chasing cloud,
In supping nectar's love laced wine,
To celebrate... this gift of time.

M.
20 June 2021
So much time is wasted shooting ****, extrapolating reason for this and that, analyzing endlessly the meaning of all things, "woke". Breathing meaningless stuff into each others ears as a performance of altruism as representing an exalted form of Messianic logic...when really, all that has to be told, is the simple, unadorned truth.
And with the gift of time available to us....to Hell with the consequences!
M.
Jun 15 · 52
Disrobal, Unsought.
You stretch the yen of soul, my love,
You dredge the spirit, so....
Encompassing the dregs entire
Of weaknesses I've shown?
You haul me through the slime, I've trod
The earthly path, travailed,
To caste me, splayed, upon this stone
Eternally, impaled.

M.
16 June 2021
This troubled way.
Exposed by Patty M's brilliant rhythmic work, "Doors"
I bare my sinful way to another pen's artistry.
Dystopia holds the key
To this worlds future misery,
Coagulates the values old
Man, in times past, used to hold.
Flocculates the chances caste
To, wherein once, the Gods might ask
Why seek this path to empathy
In thy chosen, cold, eternity?

M.
16 June 2021
Planet Earth
A response to Patty M's chilling verse, "Where are the Children?"


'
Coincidence, is defined as an improbable synchronicity of events, on face value, unrelated but occurring with no apparent causal connection.

Like the time, several years ago, when I told my little sister to pause a few minutes, ( before departing a bar we had never before frequented and had spontaneously selected for a casual beer stop), because I had this strange feeling of certainty that in the next few moments Sue and Pete, (visiting friends of mine from Australia), were going to walk in the door and join us……and of course they did. All un-arranged, all of us spread throughout the vastness of the nation…. What were the odds of this happening at this particular time in this particular place? “How could you have known” Asked my little sister?

The long arm of coincidence strikes again.
A texture where the delicate arm of life’s fabric has rippled, unbidden, unwanted but inexorably presented in the inexplicable here and now.

What are the odds?

And again where, on a spontaneous, unplanned quick trip to Britain in 1979, I suddenly bumped into Foxie in Trafalgar Square, beneath Nelson’s column where a million people, at any given moment, teem and mingle in their frantic rush of busy, busy life. Foxie was, at that time, a neighbor from Raurimu, a remote and dwindling woodcutters hamlet, Embedded in the depths of the King Country of New Zealand. I had no idea Foxie was in Britain nor he that I was there. Ten seconds either way and either of us would have been swallowed by the rushing crowd, Arabs, black Africans, Algerians, Russians, Jews and Bengalis all teeming in their own tangent in a crossfire flood of humanity…and we, oblivious to each other’s presence….just bumped into each other….Foxie! What the f..ck are you doing here?

Again, what are the odds?

Many blame the paranormal, some put it down to extra sensory perception, the religious insist it is the hand of God, intervening. The huge majority of us put the long arm of coincidence down to happenstance, blind luck, burying our suspicions in the hurly burly of our lives, burying the disconcerting actuality amid the great unknown in that murky corner of our minds where the unexplained is deposited, unwanted, in that repository…the too hard basket.

But the chaotic nature of life throws up coincidence with alarming and disconcerting frequency, defying the principles of probability, intruding into the realm denying rational explanation. Leaving us, with the vaguely uncomfortable pretext that Albert Einstein theory that the phenomenon of unexplained coincidence should be interpreted, until proven otherwise,
......as “GOD’S CALLING CARD”!

M.
Foxglove, Taranaki NZ
May 10 · 58
First Love
Drifting past the memories, touching with fingertips only
and the scent on your cheek in the rain, that gently falling rain.

How could that have been, way back then before life hatched it's ugliness.

How could we have stumbled into that verdant glade of young love where each moment was a new creation, each sensation a shattering revelation of discovery.

Each memory a chrysalis of aching, yearning, recall.

Far, far too intense to last.

M.
1968
Melbourne
Spanning what has been, as such within this lifelong, long,
The intermittent interludes dictate the days of song,
The halls of sparkling clarity, the avenues of joy
When corridors of enlightenment emerged, when, but a boy.

Tense before the starters gun, the competition hot
Clad in silk and spikes exuding confidence, I'm not.
Bare feet pounding on the turf I lead off like a hare
"Let him go" the Grammar scoffs, "at the mile post I'll be there".

With 250 yards to go I hear pursuing feet,
Engaging yet another gear with fleet of foot, so sweet,
To surge ahead to victory and win glory for the school,
But joyous to this pounding heart, to beat Grammar, was so cool!

Realization pulsing at the softness of her touch
Electrified engorgement when the need was, Oh too much.
Walking on a ten foot cloud of spangles from above
With thumping heart and pounding breath, could this be first love?

Wedding bells ring on our bright sunny day
And the bride's looking gorgeous and anxious to say...
I will, I will in a lifetime decree......
And the planet spins wondrously well, friend, for me.

Sun set through the windows of a peaceful, happy home
Lawns are mown and Autumn leaves, little kids have grown.
Happiness pervading, there is loving in the air,
As I run my fingers through my darling's auburn hair.

The pride of a father with the ultimate acclaim
When the kids have grown to manhood and gently explained,
That it's time to put the feet up, relax and recall
That they now call the shots, Dad, Cos you don't know it all.

Time for that interlude when introspection calls,
When the warm flood of memories echo down halls,
When the weariness bites at the back and the knee
And you've, perhaps, come to terms with your...( big sigh), mortality.

M.
"Foxglove"
Taranaki NZ
6th May 20211
Thought I'd better document this while I can.
Recent events have made time a very special commodity
May 5 · 102
Succumbing
Plundered in the gentle light
Yet felt that this was, oh so right,
Succumbing to the wafting way
Of oriental, ****** play.

M.
Cambodia 1966
BLT word game...my historic variation on a theme
May 5 · 198
Commitals Pledge
Down the long, hard road we trudge and find
Others judged, inalienably, our kind
For to test the vapors floating there
We all must gird to be prepared
To differ in our judgement call
Then come to terms, as brothers all,
To weather storms of good and bad....
Then proudly wear what must be had.

M.
Ernest consideration after re reading Nat Lipstadt's tome:
"The Quality of Commitment".
May 3 · 60
Dreamers
All men dream: but not equally.
Those who dream by night in the dusty recesses of their minds
Wake by day to find that it was, vanity.
But the dreamers of the day are dangerous men, for they may act their dreams with open eyes, to make it possible.
Written by Lawrence of Arabia in his book "The Seven Pillars of Wisdom"

"Many men would take the death-sentence without a whimper, to escape the life-sentence which fate carries in her other hand.”
T.E.Lawrence
Apr 29 · 333
Appalachian Addendum
Shadow cloaks the searing throng
When wrong obliterates the song,
When carnal mindsets intervene
To render that, so right, obscene.
What triggers monstrous-ness to rise
Eventuates as no surprise
Like carnage spread across the world
Hang livid, blood red flags, unfurled.
Shadows in the searing throng
As seething others croon the wrong.
Addendum to Spygrandson's great work,"Appalachian Trail Markers".
You, Korts, are linked inexorably to the likes of Wint, (in his ****** odd way), Natto, (in his Hebrew way), Victoria, (in her Liverpudlian way), Joel, (in his essentially cynical way), Terry O’Leary, (in his rhythmic tongue), r, Cyd …..and many others far too numerous to mention….and of course myself…for we are the progeny, the genetic linkage to the fabled and ancient, “Legion of Storytellers”.

In times past our forbearers roamed the globe when very few others chose to or, in fact, could. They found themselves orating nightly at the fireside, surrounded by spellbound, wide eyed listeners intent on hearing every nuance of wondrous tales of elsewhere. Tales of bravery and beauty, tragedy and outrage. Tales which caused the listener to weep, to wonder and to laugh uproariously. Tales which captured the imagination and sent the ordinary soul on his way pondering, expansively, things beyond his ken.

And in the morning, before the fireside ashes turned cold, the Storteller would be on his way to the next village, the next gathering of waiting listeners….for that is the role of the Storyteller in this life and beyond, spinning tales of immaculate colour and endeavor, laying the fabric of dreams and inspiration, painting the fantastical wonder of it all in the minds of the many.

And that, Korts, is what we do, thee and me….The worms which drive us impel the pen to write, impel the mind to create…the elixir of spindrift of that which we must.

Cheers Brother
M.
Planet Earth
Written as a heartfelt response to Wk kortas's delicious work "The Scarecrow in Exile"
Mar 5 · 80
The Wonderment
More is incumbent on lesser than less
When caressing the hem of a younger *****’s dress
Thus imbibing oneself on accumulents more
Is absolving thyself from insulting the *****.
Didn’t thee see how immaculately
When chance played her hand in two out of three
The wonderment wound in a coil like a spring
When the Catholic Priest forgave everything?

Butternut pumpkins are round and obscene
Whilst carrots and nuts are ineffably clean,
Why worry thy head in matters of sin
When the good Catholic Father ropes everything in?
With the snap of a thumb and a wink of the eye
Absolution dispensed like manna on high,
The wonderment wound in a coil like a spring
When the Holy Father forgives everything.

Perhaps a trick of sleight of hand
I’ve pondered but don’t quite understand,
The complexity of right and wrong
When whispered soft or roared in song…..
Who decides the rate of flow,
Snuffs the candle, makes it glow?
What wonderment’s wound tight coiled spring
Impel the Eternal's perception-ing ?

M.
Planet Earth
4 March 2021
You there.....

Calibrate your limit, multiply it by ten.....and you'll probably approximate your absolute tolerance to all those irrational people out there who try you to the limit, be it consciously or unconsciously....aint that so true?

All manner of extremes out there, just about as many variations as there are people on the planet...and then some because lots have multiple personalities and how you strike them depends, pretty much on the time of day, the fall of the cards or the state of their relationship with the better half

In other words, it is all a big gamble when you hold out your hand and say "Hello there".

I charge you, how long does it take to establish a good solid friendship? Takes years before the trust is ingrained to the degree that you believe implicitly, every word that person will say.

How long to make an enemy? You can do that in seconds by just looking at them the wrong way, let alone risk uttering something and, perhaps, letting that fool cat out of the bag, destroying any chance of the embryo of a friendship emerging.

Sad thing is our fellow man is much more likely to take offense than open his arms, his heart and mind to entering this special realm of friendship.

So I say to you..... that you embrace those who care.
You count your blessings for the few, true friends you have....and you approach every chance new meeting as an opportunity to accrue that very, very special tally.

All the very best to you, my friend.

M.
Taranaki, NZ
Feb 24 · 67
Hedging the Edge
Pathogens spontaneously perforate the way
When ideological madmen infiltrate the day,
When fools bearing doctorates infect with excess
Where halfwits in spandex concur in distress.

For intimidation's message of ignorant plight
So paves this pathway, cadenced in fright,
Belligerence caste in a dark hue forlorn
Obliterates normality's wavering form.

A flight of justice, flung far away,
Impinging the right in this wrong on this day.
What price this quest for stark racial gain
When the conquest won, is a recidivist's pain.

M.
24th February 2021
Feb 16 · 86
Thoughts Evoked....
Ive got pangs of nostalgia
For tenderness, then
When simplicity painted
An honesty, when
Words would build pictures,
Responses relate,
Giving meaning to warmth
In diminish-ment of hate.
Empathy's gift
For those tears on his face,
And the baring of souls
In our poetry's grace.

The candle burns for all of us,
Now, from time to time,
Contention does, occasionally though,
Cause the teeth to grind.
Sometimes a belly laugh erupts,
While others wonder why,
Some weep at words of falling rain
Against an evening sky?
Mostly, it's the warm
And familiar words from you
In uttering a smiled response
To help my tough day through.
A companionable chortle,
A joke, a helping hand
Or even just that tiny note....
To say you understand.

You hit the Nail on the Head, Joel.
M.
Thoughts evoked from a kind man's idle.
Musings stimulated by Joel's gentle, searching "Autopsy".
Feb 12 · 63
The Expediant
Unenthusiastic in the undertones, my lovely,
Couldn't find the overtures to make
Lost the thread of all the actualities, my sweet
****** if I can find the strength to take.

For once I loved a King who said I couldn't,
He stole the very focus of my dream,
Amputated all with intensity, entailed,
Said expediency would cauterize, the scheme.

Speechless, nay with outrage, I exfoliated bare
Extolled the very essence of my ire,
Screamed his traitorous intent rendered my belief, spent,
My constituents now caste on the pyre.

Treachery suffered is treachery sent
It slices the heart like a knife,
Expediency spent incurs such discontent
That all trust is severed...for life.

M.
Taranaki, NZ
Feb 12 2021
In an effort to save two ailing communities I submitted two remits seeking urgent Government support. The remits were refused by the Prime Minister of the day on the grounds that neither qualified for reversal because they were not politically expedient at the time.

Knowing the ramifications of this decision on the communities and being permitted no leeway to negotiate... I expressed my disgust and walked away from politics and my leader...and never, ever went back.
M.
****, you remind me of Mother,
Sixty years locked in the grave,
Weren't for luck, shoulda joined her
Except, thank the Gods, I behaved.

Smoked cigarettes till I spat blood,
Drank brandy & guitar in tune
Chased other men's wives in abandon,
Drove that hot old Ford like a loon.

Can't quite recall where she's buried,
Think it's away down the back
Thick in the weeds of Moorabbin
Likely, as not now, un-tracked.

Complication's diversions
I skirted the rule of law,
Disappointment's anointment
Strangled the guilt in my craw.

One of these days, I'll make it,
Scrape the weeds off her tomb
Toast the old girl with hard liquor
Sentimentally, sing her a tune.

****, I'm reminded of Mother
Frail with her big saddened eyes
Lost to all in her misery
But threw me a laugh, in disguise.

M.
Saw her last in 1959, didn't get to kiss her goodbye.
A sympathetic poetic response to W.K.Kortas's excellent verse, "An Incident of Headlights and Headstones"
Feb 8 · 51
Wheat of Wycheproof
Wheresoever went the way
Of Wycheproof's bright Summer day
Way back then, back then when wheat was King
With bountiful supply
You could hear the growers sigh.
As the tills began, abundantly, to ring.

With silos overflowing
And wheat trains ever growing
In Wycheproof, back then,
When wheat was King
With the young girls laughing happy
And the blokes all dressing snappy
Prosperity led Wycheproof, to sing.

But then an apprehension
When this "Climate Change", was mentioned,
Dismissed as merely "here-say" by all,
For "What is now has always been"
With life in Wycheproof, serene,
"What tragedy, could possibly, befall?"

Now Wycheproof is Mallee dry
Where wealthy men complain and cry
When hot northerlies whip topsoil to the wind
As it parachutes a million miles
Which is fine for Wimmera wheatmen's smiles,
Fine and dandy for the growers living there....
But for locals un-empowered,
Watching windblown topsoil scoured,  
There's a seriousness in Wycheproof's despair.

No topsoil means ya can't grow wheat
And the shortened seasons growth, deplete,
Dust storms are primarily....THE FEAR!
Surmount successions mounting debt
And final deadlines... all unmet
Foreclosures ...are chewing up the cheer!

Wycheproof these days is still
No man nor beast on flat or hill,
The shops are looking derelict and closed
And the pub' though selling beer,
Is indisposed and rather queer
For there's no wheat.... and no joy fills the day.
Future's looking bleak
And it's getting hotter, so to speak,
in  Wycheproof ... and ****** all to say.

M.
February 8 2021
As a kid, in the Mallee, I sowed countless filled wheat sacks year after year in the school holidays. Baking hot sun and the dry starchy smell of acres of freshly reaped wheat. Then a bustling wonderland and a great source of pocket money for a kid from the city....Now a drought stricken waste land. Low population, struggling wheat crops prosperity a thing of the past.

A clarion call for the future and the certainty of the calamity of advancing climate change.
M.
Feb 3 · 102
Sense of Entitlement
A Crown of Thorns worn to bed,
Woe betide the swollen head,
****** is he who  knows it all
For entitlement’s no birthright call.
Hangs like cloak of stone cement
Endowing wearer nothing spent
Entombing wearer, largely, doomed
Expectations now entombed
Few measure up to mark of man
Most spread the wings to seek the span
Encompass more than ever thought
But expensive shortfalls cheaply bought.

Out of limelight into shade,
Entitled shroud is richly flayed
With overtures of self- import,
Obsequiously seen, as sport…
By other pigs who seek the Crown
Intent on tearing your realm down.
For jealousy incurs an ire
Against you, who dares conspire,
Entitlement as rightful claim
And all within, your ****** domain.

Oh the fires of  jealousy
Burn bright with searing heat
And the pangs of hate come bubbling forth
On cloven, reptile feet,
And what was once was pure and good
Is now, then, dark as sin
And the Gods of Mars and Neptune
Both, with war, come barreling in.

For human nature simmers, hot,
Despite restraint’s cold hand
All preconception, caste aside
Who stays the battle plan….???
What works, though quite irrational,
Is the quiet word of She
Who has determined that this impasse
Serves no man’s sanity
And on threat of dire withholding
Of Country Matters near,
Extracted,  a mute fury,
But a truce, without a tear.

There was laughter in the ale house
Relief in the stall,
Where the horses fed on ignorance
But some men knew it all.
They all played their cards so quietly
With realizations calming stand
When Entitlement yelled, "an early night"
And cashed in his winning hand.

M.
February 3 2021
Taranaki NZ
Jan 30 · 254
In Birdsong & Beauty
Light and deep shade dancing
As I stride the mountain pass
My fascination prancing
As appreciations bask.
There's a tui in the cherry
And a magic song he sings
As he annoints the morning air
With the joy a summer brings.
There's a vibrancy a-hovering
And a crispness to the feel
A clarity so scintillating
One might, actually, doubt it's real.
A sky, so blue to be azure,
Extends across, on high,
Cloudless with a baking sun
Impaling you and I.
These old volcanoes soar aloft
They, now quiescent, stand,
Clad thick in stands of Kamahi
And towering Rimu, grand.
Great Egmont with her snowy crown
Rears high above it all
To dominate the beautious-ness
Of ***** and waterfall.
A tiny fantail flits about
And so entrances me
With aerial bombardments, flung,
In near impossibility.
The song of rivers plummeting
Down ferny glades and stone-
Causing me to laugh aloud
In serenade of home.
And sauntering through this wonderous-ness
Of magnificence in green,
This glory of New Zealand,
Is, indeed, the very best ...I've seen.

M.
Midsummer Taranaki, NZ
30 January 2021
Jan 21 · 75
Hope Prevailing?
Rolling across the entire planet a new feeling prevails….Hope!
    
Hope for the sanctity of honesty.
Hope in the sanity of restraint.
Hope in the healing of unity in a nation, currently at odds.
Hope that an organized universal vendetta against Coronavirus will bring the pandemic to an early end.
Hope in the common sense of all people to realize the wisdom of harmonious peace and in the fostering of trust, globally, throughout humanity.
Hope that Joe and Kamala have the strength, endurance and wisdom to lead us out of the wilderness to the promise, beyond.

HOPE FOR THE NEW AMERICA,  NOW EMERGING.

M
NEW ZEALAND
20 January 2021
Jan 12 · 61
Ever?
Ever bought something you always wanted but couldn't afford....and then, when finally bought, found you really didn't actually need it?

Ever needed a cold, cold shower to ceremoniously, warm things up
...then found it left you, both.... high and dry?

Ever spontaneously warmed to a complete stranger to find yourself hopelessly mired in a compromising, sticky situation?

Ever tried to unstick that which got stuck due, entirely, to your own ****** unstick-ability?

Ever determined to run that hard, long race to bloodiwell win at any cost....then laughed and laughed with delight and utter relief, when you actually came in exhausted, spent...and last?

I have, to every ****** one of em!
M.
Mankind’s show of ebb and flow
Will tax your judgement’s call
Where swings of dubious ally choice
Determine wisdom’s fall.
Who knows selection’s factor?
Why pick this errant choice?
When the oratory of malfeasance
Paints odd the portrait’s voice.

Mankind flies in errant ways
Each individual sings
In voices of a different hue
Each oratory brings?
Why judge him for his preference,
Why colour him insane
When each has lived a lifeline
Where extremes created blame?

To wear the cloak of tolerance,
To sip anothers wine
Engenders an understanding
Which builds empathy, in time.
In any case, this cast is set,
Where ever you may gaze
Mankind will seek his own sweet way
Despite what wisdom says.

M.
At the culmination of the deadlocked Georgia Senate Runoff.
6th January 2021
A reiteration of rationalization, so necessary when approaching the extremes of human behaviour. The coming to terms with the need to live each day within the morass of difference.
Dec 2020 · 80
There, Stands He....
Marshal Gebbie Dec 2020
Back then I dwelt with stone age man
In New Guinea's hothouse land
Long Centipedes of brick red hue
Aggressively pursuing you.
Rain, incessant rain on thee.
Wetly dripping from each tree
Iridescent longicorns
And scarab with elaborate horns.
Spider webs extension set
From tree to tree in lethal net....

Yet there stands he, in naked awe,
Watching, silently before,
Watching with obsidian stare
In aura, quite, beyond my care,
Puri-Puri, magic's spell,
Hangs suspended, mystic Hell.

Axe of stone from rugged cleft
From secret site of Ancient sect,
Hidden deep in forest glade
By several hues of darkened shade.
Axe of war in every way
Worn as talisman, they say.
Ground laboriously in stream
To razor edge by timeworn team
Axe of stone from eon past
A Neolithic work of art.

Yet there stands he, amid the green,
Silent, deadly, seldom seen.
***** sheath standing *****,
Pig fat hair for earnt respect,
Calloused feet, jungle razed,
Fearless in his fearsome gaze.....
Neolithic son of man
From whence prehistoric time, began.

M.
Originally penned as a footnote for my worthy colleague HP Old Poet MK
as a reminiscence akin to the theme of his fine work in... "Immeasurable".
M.
Marshal Gebbie Dec 2020
Synchronized in rhythm's time
Inimitably belting rhyme,
Compulsive snickering of snare
Entrancing in melodic flair.
Together we, as one, embraced,
From Waltz to  loving quickstep.... raced

In melting orb of setting sun
Melding brilliant tones as one,
Beyond this pall of falling rain
Against horizons stark refrain.
So poignant in this fractured light
Harmony in the dance of night.

To glide the floors seductive beat
To silky muted trumpet, sweet,
Companionably, sultry "She"
Melding perfectly to me,
Serenely we two glide the floor
As lovers....Who could ask for more?

“Night and day you are the one
Only you beneath the moon and under the sun,
Who knows where troubles lie .....
Or may be teardrops bleed from the sky?
But while there’s moonlight & love & romance….
Let’s Face the Music …. and Dance.”

M.
23 December 2020
Swept away with the sultry tones of Diana Krall and the pulsing, rhythmic jazz of Night and Day and Music and Moonlight Romance......Let's Face the Music & Dance?
..... Aint life grand?
M.
Dec 2020 · 312
Right of Passage
Marshal Gebbie Dec 2020
Who marches to the portal gate,
Who dares to bear the arms?
Who threatens with aggression's barb,
Who woo's who with his charms?

Silken tongue and deadly gun
Are token tools of trade
But clandestine intrigue's appeal
Contrasts how deals are made.

There's chaos in the making
Through erratic ego's curse,
With greed and condescension
Finally filling fate's cold hearse.

A death knell to humanity
Disparate in it's hue,
Despite the intervention
It all originates with you.

For deep within the makeup
Of every mortal man
There lies a deadly disconnect
To sabotage the plan.

Who claims the right of passage
Determining the way
When no one at betrayals gate
Shows willingness to pay?

Who holds the right of passage
With rules thrown out the door,
Where conscience lies in tatters
Creating civil order, flawed?

M.
The lies, the subterfuge, the total disregard of public welfare?
The obscene bullying, the bombast and betrayal of the American people
by the Trump phenomenon and affiliates over the last four years,
has resulted in really visible and indelible damage to order and rationale right across the landscape of this country.
The United States of America owes it to itself and, indeed the world, to never allow demagoguery, greed and ego to, again, occupy the Presidency, the seat of power of this nation.

NEVER AGAIN ALLOW THEM THE RIGHT OF PASSAGE!
Nov 2020 · 92
Letter to Boaz
Marshal Gebbie Nov 2020
Thank God, Boyo!!!

…and as you know, I’m not a religious man. Sanity prevails in the land of the brave and the free where President elect Joe Biden and Vice President elect Kamela Harris will create HOPE!

Hope for unity, hope for healing, hope for promise…Hope for a change in attitude to combat the pandemic with science and resolve…as a nation.

Hope that the great division in American society will heal, that America, once again becomes a nation that reunites with it’s allies, that supports worldwide environmental concerns and works positively towards planetary salvation from the  deadly threat of global warming. Hope that once again, America will regenerate its momentum and values to become the powerhouse of production that it once was and the flagship inspirational leader of the free world.

Regardless of Trump’s destructive death throes, his continued agitation and disruption during the transition of power over the next three months…which, I’m sure you will agree, is inevitable…. I feel an incredible sense of relief that, at last, we are on the correct track to righting the wrongs, the excesses, the outright perversions of the last four years of chaos.

This is the best news I’ve had in years….and I celebrate, with all those cheering people out there in the street today…a better, brighter United States of America and a safer, happier world.

Cheers mate
Dad.
Taranaki, NZ.
Oct 2020 · 211
Nic Nacs for November 3
Marshal Gebbie Oct 2020
Luck will forge you great liasons
Strength will frighten weak away,
Precociousness is self defeating
Believing lies will make you pay.
Issuance absolves the ego,
Petulance decries the stance,
Rage is such a waste of space
But laughter makes me want to dance.

Fighting in the street is futile
Fantasy is thinly veiled,
When idiots unleash the chaos
Interaction gets curtailed.
Tip toe to the ballot people
Caste a vote for sanity
Wasting it on madness
Makes the future a profanity.

Caste a vote for sunshine, people
Make tomorrow pay,
WIPE THIS NIGHTMARE FROM THE SLATE
For a better, brighter USA.


M.
New Zealand
Marshal Gebbie Oct 2020
Have bought some time to ponder thus
The thoughts of Caesar's Romulus,
The dreams within creations rhyme
Felt within our tick of time,
The pulse of life in throbbing vein,
Magnificence of veils of rain
In starkness of blood sunset'******br> Delineating seas, absorb.
The pain of love in gifted smile
Inviting us to pause, awhile.

Time to pass ****** stress aside
Curling toes in ebbing tide,
Feeling crispness in the air,
Noticed highlights in your hair,
Sensed the love light in your eyes
Knowing deep, it's no surprise.

Ocean deep, ocean calm
Stroking fine hairs on your arm
Knowing, deep, it's no surprise,
To feel the love light, in your eyes.

M.
28 October 2020
Foxglove, Taranaki
To my darling wife, Janet.
With all the Love in the World.
Oct 2020 · 699
The Fly hath Landed
Marshal Gebbie Oct 2020
The demon fly hath landed now intent upon it's task
**** Demon in its valedictory explorations grasp.
Embedded deep in kidneys, to cause me some concern.
A painful path to endgame and a Hellish lesson learned.

I pause a moment, think it out, it's one way or the other
I lost a mate the other day and last month, lost another.
Seems it is the season for the cataclysmic time
I'd rather it be elsewhere but I fear this one... is mine.

I've run a rough and winding track these rugged years of yore
Pulled the Dragons tail in jest and sought, yet, for more.
Rafted mighty rivers and flew the heavens high
And lifted my perception winging vaulting, clear blue sky.

I've known the velvet touch of love, the softness of her lips
The crash of waves on sandy shore caressing fingertips.
The swelling joy of childbirth, the pledge of mothers milk
And rock like bonds of marriage binding all within its ilk.

With thoughts a million miles away I've trudged this country lane
Pondered why, with voids approach, it engenders me no pain?
Wondering why it matters that the children shed a tear
When saddened, glancing passing eyes, are never really near.

Regret I'll never get to see my grove of rhodos bloom
Or sip the soothing whisky as I tap my toe in tune.
Or launch into the crazy surf and splash out to the rock
Nor lie in sun on baking sand admiring talent flock.

Meat pies with sauce at football with a cold beer in the hand
And the repartee with kindred minds in poetry unplanned,
That flash of inspirations' alliteration sprung
Brings the joy to mind of comradeship in Shakespeare's realm, unsung.

.....And then there's all that's left undone, the words, now, left unsaid
The notes of tragic violin hang in the air...unbled
And you there with the swimming eyes, what do I say to you?
It's all been grand, I kiss your hand....Adieu , my friend.... Adieu!

M.
Foxglove, Taranaki
New Zealand
20 October 2020
Sep 2020 · 104
Futility's Tiny Touch.....
Marshal Gebbie Sep 2020
Pitfalls in perfection are beyond the ken of man
With a yen for paranoia on this page without a plan,
Skipping forth with egomania through a paradox or two
When there’s ****** all to brag about, even if it’s true!
For you know it’s all a homily, a house of cards, a ruse
When it flicks across the conscience, (to laconically abuse),
When it slides up to the reputation, (hanging by a thread)
And you wish to Christ you’re indisposed, (or preferably dead!)
A hallmark of the day that thou can never quite slam shut…
Particularly when encountered, friend,
.....for it has found you, three parts cut!

M.
2 September 2020
"Three parts cut" denotes a measure of intoxication...You've been on the Bushmills, again!
Aug 2020 · 121
Mercuriality of the Moment
Marshal Gebbie Aug 2020
Curious and vexing how one days verse is so wrong
Yet that of the day prior, is so right?
How the fixation of the day tempers the phrase
Yet a moments reflection can, and does,
Alter the whole considerations' perspective.

Damnable this vacillation of the mind
Contrary in its moments of prominence.
Priorities sliding from one inception to the next
Depending on the vagaries of mood swing
Or something as incidental, as the casual happenings of the day.

Bringing us all allocations of vexation and joy,
Depending on the inflection, depending on the hue.
Each moment of each day is anointed its own crystal prism
Opportunity and inspiration, of stimulus to capture the phrase,
**** it...   To coin that manifest creation....or to not.

M.
22 August 2020
Aug 2020 · 111
The Shock!
Marshal Gebbie Aug 2020
The struggle with self consumes, consumes.
Its manifestation sings
That a dream on the wing is a phenomenal thing
But honesty's bleeding, stings.

It entails a depth of purpose,
Entails the breadth of sight,
Encompasses all with faith, I recall,
Seeing once, in the dead of the night.

Perhaps it's all misleading,
And seemingly so contrite
But the thing I find deceiving is the absence of believing
And it galls me so, despite.

Of course there's contradiction
Which man maintains his path
Erratic-ism calls...yet that, further galls,
And prompts...my bitter laugh!

The cynic in me vacillates
The inner fool now writhes
And through it all, in abrupt recall,
.....I feel I'm fed a pack of lies!

M.
20 August 2020
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