Slap of leather magnified
Where Caesar’s legion marched
Setting sun of golden light
Though’ Roman tongues are parched.
Pewter helmets bronzely glow
Sweat cascades from dusty brow
Whilst o’er hill the Vandals mass
Salivating hot blood now.

Short swords cleat with marching rythm
Stabbing lances high and cold,
Metronome in stamping sandals
Onward now to victory’s fold.
Scarlet standards fly on high
The statement of intent is clear
Caesar’s men have promised now
To desiccate from ear to ear.

Grey ghost high above bears witness
Cadence of advancement grows,
Column strides in face of chaos
Lowered lance’s sharp steel shows.
Engagement in a stony basin
Flesh and blood, as one, combine,
Cut and slash in perfect order
Stab a *** and make him mine.

Darkness hides her chilling secret
Brooding silence stills the air,
Dawn’s first rays reveal  the spectre
Carnage killed with none to spare.
Grey ghost’s hang in gaunt remembrance
Vespers ring in solemn tone,
Gone forever Caesar’s promise
Dead in vanquished blood and bone.


Marshalg
Inspired by Anselm’s “Broken Promise to Caesar.”
21 March 2013

Gorgons in the grasses by my window
Phantoms in the corridors of mind,
Elves and Angels flit amongst the fairies
But Godhead is the hardest thing to find.

Experiments with rationale confound me
Argument, well meaning, leaves me cold,
I've thrashed it out with he who has seen the Holy See
But futility has left me feeling old.

Millions feel the joy of their religion
Base their lives on regimental right,
Alone I meet the day and feel no need to pray,
And stride with independence to the night.

I read your words of beauty for your Maker
I felt the passion living on the page,
I cried for your belief and in so doing, felt relief
For the singer not the song, for me, engaged.

So there, my beauty, lies our living quandary
For you and I the chemistry's the same.
For you with God in hand inhabit my agnostic land
And simultaneously, we exult in falling rain.

Marshalg
To Christine and Anselm, with happiness in having found new friends.
The Pukehana Paradise
Auckland
12 March 2013

There is no Makers formula
This life depends on chance,
The way you play your given cards
Depicts your daily dance.

Oh dogma flows in utterance
From pulpits far and wide
From those who claim to understand
Eternity's vast hide.
From those who hold damnation
As a weapon from on high,
From those who claim a judgement
As their finger points to sky.
The good, the bad are absolute,
The right bedevils wrong,
Redeemed shall live eternally
The bad shall singe for long.

Old men stand in pulpits
Across this Sunday's land
To threaten with damnation
If you should cross God's hand.
"Belief" is now their catchword
Abomination's wrong
Is to seek to proffer proof of claim
....to Sing the Devil's Song.

So gather all ye faithfull
Go listen to your man,
Sing the Gospel loud and long
And pay your tithe, as planned.
...But should you find you're dying
From cancer's frozen claw
And the the Godly fail to sweep you
To eternity's gold door?
Remember my clear message
Your life depends on chance,
You live within your own good sphere
....There is no Maker's Dance.

Marshalg
After an overdose of Pulpit hogwash.
10 March 2013

Aaargh yes.....
With mighty clap
The Thunderhead with venom breaks.....
And jagged lightning streaks across the sky,
Blindingly, the white flash downward snakes
To impale the earth where frogs, unlucky, die.
Ha!

What surmounts the best of best
What surpasses excellence,
Where resides the wherewithal
To top the prize of prescience?
How to master that which hurts
The song which wears you down?
Limitations splendour son
The fool who fools the clown.
To climb the bleak forbidden peak
To sleep with guts and gore,
Endure a cancer's world of pain
Where moments shut the door.
Resurrect a broken life
When love has fled the room,
Found the strength to seek again
And find light in the gloom.
Hold an old man's withered hand
And listen to his tale
Of life's travails and hardship
Where broken dreams prevail.
Take that cute kid on your arm
And kiss her with a hug,
Treat her like a Pixy Queen
And cuddle dolly snug.
What surmounts the best around
What surpasses all,
Where resides the wherewithal
To claim the prize recalled?
How to master songs of joy
Tunes which wear the crown?
Limitations laughter son
The fool who fools the clown.
Capture magic's glow around
Make each moment ring,
Fling confusions net away
To let your heartstrings sing.
Smooch a mountain maiden
Cry for great things done
Celebrate your life my friend
For it's a fact.... We've Won!

Marshalg
In Sweet Celebration.
27 February 2013

© 2013 Marshal Gebbie

Downy moss doth grow in shadow
Emerald and darkly damp,
Ancient as the runes of legend
Lost to time's priescent ramp.
Damp and downy, roundly soft
Pubescently profound,
Nestled in the vale of love
Where tarantula abound.
Nestled in the vale between
Stark pillars tall and white,
Nestled where tomorrows day
May flourish into night.
Flourish with the elderberry
Mingled with the sage,
Seeping drops of acid wine
Into the maw of age.

Marshalg
23 February 2013

Balanced on the cusp of reason
Teetering in rationale,
Gyroscopic permutations
Take the leap or stay and snarl.

Reason fights with high confusion
Torn between the yae and nay,
Gyroscopic permutations
Pack the case and leave or stay.

Screaming taunts in ragged order
Torment in saliva mist,
Gyroscopic permutations
Cut the throat or slit the wrist.

Standing on the lonely cliff top
Way below the surging tide
Gyroscopic permutations
Take the leap or run and hide.

Balanced on the cusp of reason
Teetering on right or wrong,
Gyroscopic permutations
Join the dead or sing a song.

Walking up the baking highway
Soaking up the streaming sun
Gyroscopic permutations
Laugh or cry... today I won.*


Marshalg
Throwing the dice.
22 February 2013

© 2013 Marshal Gebbie

Twilight falling makes me sad
With expectation seldom met
As wistful evening bleeds away
Ambition fades with soft sunset.

Dawn creates a surge of blood
As tumbled plans carouse to day,
Enthused, this finest moment met
With hope arranged in fine array.

By noon the schedule lies in rags
The tether hangs in tattered state,
Dullness in the discontent
Lies brutal on an emptied plate.

To build a castle in the air
And frustrate dissipation’s fight
When time and time a proven fact
That good intention fades with night.

Daylight flees with ebbing tide
Coolness in the furtive air,
Expectations start to slide
As resignation takes the chair.
  

Marshalg
At the calm of ebb tide
21 February 2013


© 2013 Marshal Gebbie

Manacled the hands
Which intertwine with one another now,
Hands that come to grip with issues
Locked within the soul, somehow.

Manacled, the hands that hold her
Manacled in blood and bone,
Hold the baby’s head so gently
Veined and scarred with love intoned.

Hands of strength that strike the anvil
Shape the shoe to fit the hoof
Hold the stallion’s head commanding
Strong control to stay aloof.

Hands that wield the sword of vengeance
Hands that feed the wood to fire,
Work the field with ox and plough
Stroke her body to desire.

Veinous hands, so strong and calloused
Locked within his every day,
Hands that clap to merry music
Hands that to the piper pay.

Hunter hands to snare the rabbit
Catch the carp in yonder lake,
Pen the words of love to paper
Knead the dough of bread to bake.

Quiet hands that rest in evening
Sitting by the fireside,
Listening to the snoring hounds
Which on the mat, asleep, reside.

Manacled, these hands, he ponders
Locked within the ways of sin,
Reminiscent recollection
…Quiet smile on whiskered chin.

Fingers cooled in fresh spring water
Feel the rays of rising sun,
Stride across the purple heather
These hands, a goodly day begun.

Marshalg
FOXGLOVE, Taranaki.
4.20am 17 February 2013

© 2013 Marshal Gebbie

Inspired by the dream of the founders of city
Collated by planning of leaders and mayor,
Built by the muscle and sweat of believers
A Masterpiece fashioned for pride and for care.

Magnificent structures of bridges and tunnel
Faultlessly conjoined by highways of God,
Dreamt by the forebears of knowledge and passion
Crafted in concrete and sculpted in rod.

Towering edifices scything through city
Asphaltic motorways curving with grace
Estuaries bridged by elegant girders
Created by vision with tears on it’s face.

Fashioned by strength and belief in the promise
Fashioned by fortitude's strong hand as guide,
Crafted by people's belief in tomorrow
A Vision for Auckland and nation with pride.



Marshalg
With the Wellconnected Alliance.
AUCKLAND N.Z.
(Inspired by the animation on a good Mayor’s face)
6pm,14 February 2013


© 2013 Marshal Gebbie

The good looking kids NEVER have pimples!

Have you noticed... How the Banks ALWAYS back the big money?

Have you cottoned on.. To the fact that the VERY RICH always come out on top?

Surely you have twigged to just how easily the BEAUTIFUL girls get the very best of everything?

How about that LAST table in the restaurant? Has the ordinary guy got a shot?

When was the last time you saw a POLITICIAN back a little guy?

Notice how the Priest smiles WIDEST when the Wealthy contribute to the plate?

Who gets the BEST DEAL when they buy a new car?

Preferential treatment at Casinos...Free this, free that....?? The SUPER RICH!

Complimentary tickets to the game?..FAT CATS!

...and who wins the armchair ride to Heaven????
...THE WELL HEELED BUGGERS WHO CAN AFFORD THE TICKET!

So should we, the habitually poor, deprived, ugly sector of society... Feel shortchanged ?
.....or should we be smugly aloof in our tolerated, noble deprivation?

SHORTCHANGED YOU ******* AND THE DAY OF RECKONING IS NIGH!


Marshalg
Just a bit of fun.
11 February 2013

Running for a thousand places
Running for my very hide,
Running to obscure the traces
Run from those I can’t abide.

Pursued by the claw of guilders
Pursued by the Bank of Greed,
Running from the Ruin Builders
Run from those whose lust is need.

I’ve worked to build a modest holding
Worked to feel a pride secured,
Family of love enfolding
Sanctity midst world endured.

Feel manipulations brooding
Moneys lust does intervene,
Those who have it all, concluding,
What is mine is theirs to glean.

Claw back by manipulators
Claw back by the fiends of greed,
Implacable cold calculators
Cut with Law to make me bleed.

Running for a thousand places
Running for my very hide,
Run to flee pursuing faces
Run from that I can’t abide.

Anguish at my walls collapsing
Wailing of my bride’s despair
Futility’s tomorrow lapsing
Monstrous as it flails me there.

Standing in a freezing stillness
Standing in this hall of time,
Forlorn in a prisoned illness
Greed has vanquished me and mine.


Marshalg
For the forgotten people who have been ruined by those, who call themselves the mighty.
Auckland N.Z.
9 February 2013

Heat beats down upon the street
Birds too hot to fly,
Blistered sand you cannot stand
Drenched with sweat am I.
Cows collect in shadow deep
Panting sheep hang head,
Goshawk flies in cobalt skies
Hills of grass stand dead.

Whisp of smoke, a puff of breeze
Sirens scream in air,
Running men in squads of ten
Emerge from everywhere.
Now the rising wind takes charge
Runs with leaping flame
Into crown of eucalypts
To rage across the plain.

Too late the tenders hoses pour,
Too late the fireman’s shout
Inferno hot has run amok
And all control a rout.
Generating mighty winds
The fire charges forth
Spiralling in furnace air
To incinerate for sport.

Vanquished men exhausted stand
Watch with useless eyes,
As raging flames consume their truck,
Inside a good mate dies.
A live thing in the burnished night
It writhes and spirals high
Across the flaring treetops
Hot, red smoke fills the sky.

As sudden as it starts, it stops
A wind change in the air.
Ravaged forest stark and black
Hot ashes everywhere.
Hills of cinders smoking now
Stock in death’s repair,
Homesteads rendered charcoal like
Farmers in despair.

A silence in the ravaged hills
Birdless in the sky,
Bushfire horror, death and smoke
Enough to make you cry.

Marshalg
In support of my Australian brethren and their torched nation.
30 January 2013

Dear friends,

Outward we go, outward to the vast infinity, the great mother ship of all entities, past present and future.
Outward to the cold reality of limitless space where pinpricks of light reflect time which began a million years past.

The great unknown where for eons, since man descended from the trees, his very hopes dreams and prayers have been directed.

Beyond the maelstrom of the sun's living cauldron, beyond the titanic violence of coronal outforce, there lies a false calm. A vacuum of seeming emptiness which harbours a promise of galactic peacefulness but delivers the potential likelihood of eternal, calamitous catastrophe.

This is the realm where God's and Devil's reside.
This is the realm of unimaginable forces and stupendous violence.
This is, at once, our hope and our damnation...
THIS IS THE UNIVERSE.

This is the realm where man has sought communication as long as he has been able.... With utter futility.
For all of his advances in technology, his network of huge radio telescopes, his continuous Asceti transmissions, the development of the World Wide Web, the orbiting space station, the wonderful Hubbard telescope and his advances in space exploration and travel....THERE HAS BEEN NO REPONSE FROM OUT THERE.
SO WHY IS IT THAT MAN HAS HAD NO COMMUNICATION FROM SPACE?

And of time..eternal time ....anticipated as tomorrow. Retrieved as the now and dispensed to the yesterday. Are all three interpretations valid as manifestations of time or are the tones of future and past merely renditions of the actuality...the present?  If that is so how can the light of the stars, emitted so many eons ago, be seen right now as a reflection of the actuality of real time? Has time stretched or are the factors of space distance and time linked entities?

Is eternity a factor of time and space or is there another spectrum. Another source creating equilibrium in the quantum flux? Is size a factor... Is our solar system a submicroscopic nutrino attached to an atom on the **** of an incredibly slow living, gargantuan, multi universe sized ant?
.
..and if this is so...There's no wonder that there have been no replies to our efforts to communicate
...We are infintesimal.....Nobody can find us!

Serenely in the morning air, magnificence defies
Predictions of catastrophe from those whose word implies
That chance, that willing player, who skirts around the scene,
Would show her cards, calamitously, to render doom obscene.
....But for now the peacefulness and order everywhere
Has lovers in the lane ways and laughter in the air,
Has Autumn leaves cascading and white caps on the bay
With balmy clouds in blue skies to reflect this perfect day.

(Though....Forever now humanity could decry me as a brute
For I have, inadvertantly, crushed that ant beneath my boot!)


Marshalg
Looking up through the cold clear night air at 'Foxglove', through the myriad of crystal stars...and beyond.
27 January 2013

A word of explanation: The poem in italics depicts a scene of normality in the big picture, the megamacro world out there, where, like us, they have their own insecurities, their own great unknowns....and like our world, way down here, it is a place where accidents can happen!
Mg.

Thoughtful moments pondering
The worthiness of this,
Examining it carefully
To remove what is remiss.
Questioning the ethics
Of the larger picture shown,
Scrutinize morality
To drive the question home.
Delving into detail
For here the issue stands
And brandishing the blade
When dissection makes demands.
Laying forth the factors
Which, assembled, form the deal
Tasting points of piquancy
To rather sweeten up the meal.
Then....Making the decision
TO REALLY DRIVE THE MATTER HOME
To be left with apprehension
Sitting terrified, alone!*





Marshalg
Pukehana Paradise
Epsom
14 January 2013

© 2013 Marshal Gebbie

I've just come in from sitting out front in some welcomed sun shine.
It's clear out and less cold and for two days or so we are to have
more of the same, but with colder nights, down into the high 20s.

As I walked out to the mail box, a distance of over 250 feet, along
our drive way, I turned back and looked over my shoulder and there
came all three of the outside cats. The Gray Lady, followed by
Tom and bringing up the rear was Jerry. All in a nearly perfect line,
spaced about ten feet behind me and from one another, in near
perfect order and a formation that even a hard edged Drill Instructor
might admire.

I got the mail and returned to the garage, with my kitty parade right
behind me.

In watching these cats and all our other animals it has occurred to
me that I am starting to behave very much like them. We talked
about how animals live in the moment. Reaction and instinct over
planning and thinking. Never over thinking anything.

I guess that is becoming me. I sleep until I wake up. Stay awake
until I grow sleepy. Drink when I thirst, eat when I hunger. Seeing
the sun appear, I seek it's warmth and bask in it's comfort. I pay no
attention to clocks and mostly refuse to plan. With no demands on
my time I do not require a schedule. I worry less and have little or
no expectations. I suppose you might say that I am free.

I can conclude that Life is a circle. Everything I just described might
well fit the description of a routine existence of a human infant.
Apparently we end much like we started out. Or, returning to my point,
perhaps we grow more and more like a cat, or a dog, or just about any
animal or mammal. More basic, simple and uncomplicated. Surely there
is Freedom in understanding and accepting that discovered realization.

And now without any thinking or planning, I shall go and find a warm
soft place to lay down, lick my fur and take a nap.

S.

You are feeling your mortality brother Steven ??.
So an instant ode to you my brother .....

Mortality, our great redeemer
Is levelling the ides of man,
Trimming back the values sought
In every over complex plan.
Trimming back un-needed gloss
Trimming back the fat,
Reducing the absurdity
of mankind’s overloaded  vat.

….To make each instant simpler
To render cleaner time,
To give each day a value
And to make that value mine.

The nearness of my coming end
Is this man’s realisation’s friend
In sorting out the wheat from chaff
To promulgate a favoured blend.

This blend?... My satisfaction’s choice
In the simpler things of life,
My kids, my mates, my poetry
And the touch of my dear wife.

The rest is window dressing, friend,
I leave it for the youth
That’s the group who’s noisy preference
Is behaviourally uncouth.

….Like you, I crave the simpler life
The morning sun in crisp blue air
And the happy sound of kids at play
….Means MY old soul’s in good repair.
                            
Affectionately M

She sat astride the stool in silence
Watching how the mayflies flew,
Symmetry in chaos painting
Colour’s gentle strokes anew.
Felt the touch of evening breezes
catch the tendrils of her hair
Watching mayflies rise and fall
through symmetry, without a care.
Promise fills the moment’s magic
Hope is pounding through her breast,
Mayflies rise and fall in sunlight
Love’s anticipation best.
Scattered light intrudes through leafage
Casting sunspots in the shade,
Mayflies rise and fall in sunshine
Tranquil peace of mind is made.
Softly a guitar is strumming
Melding with the lakeside air,
Rendezvous with him a-coming
Mayflies rise to empty chair.
Mayflies rise and fall in sunshine
Rise and fall...and they don’t care.

Marshalg
‘Foxglove’ Taranaki
3 January 2013

Worry taxing vindication
Deep lines score a harried brow,
Hooded eyes reveal the torment
Green of bile consuming now.

Years compile the load endureth
Weighted soul with quilted guilt,
Bowed is back and shoulder bendeth
Round and bound imbued as built.

So laboured by the leaden deeds
Weighted by the tomes of greed,
Cloistered with the avarice
Of omnipresent want and need.

Oh to see a mote of sunshine
Beam between the felted cloud,
Oh to feel the right of light
Emerge unhindered from the shroud.

God! To witness ordinary
Moments from this sea of pain…
To capture the exquisite joy
Of freely given mirth again ?


Marshalg
‘Foxglove’, Taranaki
31st December 2012

Hold your hand aloft in light
Feel the blood run through your veins,
Know that you have lived a life
Loved a love and held the reigns
Of something..so worthwhile and good
That friends will well have understood,
When you have long passed from this land,
...Your Cup hath Overfloweth.

**MERRY CHRISTMAS

With deferrence to the gentle Edward Ryles who penned the original....*




To wrinkle toes where sand meets sea
Enchants this soul's humanity,
To breathe the air of salty wash
Paints substance into longings lost.
To idle midst the song of tides
Embraces where this heart resides.



Marshalg
Port Waikato Beach
12/12/12



© 2012 Marshal Gebbie

Strip into segments the colours of life
At the birth of my sons, loving my wife,
Like the moment of truth when, whilst shivering clear,
I went eyeball to eyeball with that, which I fear.
Like the time when the engine went dead in the plane
And I ditched in the pines to confirm the insane.
When my Father collapsed and died in my arms
And childhood departed with God and his Psalms.
When I first kissed a girl’s soft velvety lips
And felt, with wild rapture, my hands on her hips.
Discovered ripe apricots fresh from the tree
Taste sweeter than nectar collected by bee.
Felt the presence of death compellingly near
Though the body was wracked, the thinking was fear.
Climbed impossible peaks that I dreamt I perceived
To weep the hot tears in a life’s goal achieved.
Laughed loud and long with the wind in my hair
Yet cried when an enemy lost to despair.
Pondered the mystery of what’s round the bend
Concluded beginnings are part of the end.
Compiling the rules to maintain my space
Lie in keeping the oddballs out of my face.
Clasping friends, so few, to my breast
Embracing the true and to hell with the rest.
Committing my time to my one darling wife
And thanking the Gods for this colourful life!*


Marshalg
Sitting in the long summer grasses
3 Decemeber 2012

A coarse, yellow coat with dark spot aplenty
Lean as a greyhound with limb long and lengthy,
Faster than hare from a cold standing start
Impossibly glimpsed in tall grasses that part.
Crystaline jewels in two huge hazel eyes
With the svelt of a feline’s cold killing surprise,
Explosively quick with an elegant gait
And a murderous jaw full of canines that wait
For a fleeing gazelle or a springbok at speed
Then a launch that would emulate bullet, when freed.
Incredibly smooth with a fast loping stride
That would tax any racehorse an envious ride,
Snapping manouvers to left and to right
That mirror a quarry’s evasions of flight.
A blur in a frantic explosion of dust
Then the life blood erupts, splashing red as the rust.

Heaving great flanks after thrill of the chase
Wide open muzzle and gore on the face,
Guarding the game till the kittens locate
Then the spoils of the chase will make portions dictate.*


Marshalg
Serengetti Plain
Central Africa
30 November 2012

Dust on the ledge, before me, magnified
Smell of gun oil in my nostrils and cramp in the calves
The boredom of the wait intensifies,
Stale air in my loft is full of must
With the failing light I’m grateful it is almost time to stand down.

Through the cross hair sprints a target
An ordinary, everyday, running target,
I know not who this target is,
I know not why it runs across my sights,
But because it is, where it is,
It becomes my enemy.

In a microcosm of time
the loud bang alters things forever.
The buck of the rifle’s recoil,
The immediate sour stench of the shot washes back across my face.
The intoxication felt, in being the one who caresses the trigger.
The satisfaction earned in deservedly making the ****.

My target spirals in mid stride,
Contorts in agony
And collapses to the rough tarmac
To lie dishevelled, an insignificant, dishevelled item.

Checking the **** through the telescopic sight
I see the rough stubble of the chin,
The nicotine stain on the fingers,
I see the colour of the eyes are pale blue.
…I know well, it will breathe no more.

With descending twilight
I trudge from my tower perch
With the long ****** rifle slung across my weary shoulders
The  crones in the street glare as I walk by
There is a loathing in their aged eyes, It is a tangible thing.
I know they have no knowledge of the target,
But they know, however, that there has been a killing made for the cause.

A cold beer would be nice.
God! how I hate these young punks with purple hair.*


Marshalg
Gaza, Palestine/Mogadishu, Somalia/Kabul, Afghanistan/Tehran, Iran/Cairo, Egypt/Islamabad, Pakistan/Soweto, South Africa/Dier El Zour Province, Syria/Beirut, Lebanon/Baghdad, Iraq/Tripoli, Libya/Pristina, Kosovo/Grozny,Chechen Republic/Veracruz, Mexico/Guatemala City, Guatemala/Sao Paulo, Brazil/Moscow, Russia.
27 November 2012

For just one second in time, I saw your face.
I saw the cracks and crevices, the moles, the laugh lines.
I saw the feeling held within your expression, your tough, gaunt expression…but kindly.
I saw written there, an understanding, an appreciation
…and a beautiful accommodation for my gentle infatuation.

Marshalg
Convalescing with the leg up.
21 November 2012

(With gratitude to two lovely Polynesian ladies)*

Wondrous, in the light of dawn
Two ladies came with curtains drawn,
To sponge my back and smelly ***
With warming suds, so overcome
With gratitude, was I, to feel so clean
And freshly cared for, in between
Clean sheets and laundered, buttoned gown
Amidst their chatter, cast around,
Their laughter and efficient way
To start, so well,  this budding day.

Patient Marshalg
Ascot Orthopaedics
Auckland
17 November 2012

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

Whilst spanning continents distraught
I willed all leaders to give thought…
To what will keep our world intact,
Allow the breeds to interact
Together in this sea of greed
Where every ******* sows his seed
Indiscriminately about the place
A sad lascivious twisted face,
Reflecting truly, probably,
How futile is this thought from me….

But maybe, somewhere, far out there
A man will roar with inspired flair
To galvanise the hoard to scream
Aloud for changes’ vital seam,
Aloud for universal ******
To strive before this world is dust!


Marshalg
An appeal from the most beautifully, fragile corner of the globe.
NEW ZEALAND
4 November 2012

Soothing that we aren't at war
Soothing that the thunderous skies
Show bright quiescent lightening flash
In battle field where no man dies.
Soothing that we sued for peace
Soothing that the tempers calmed
In altercations' quarrel lake
Where differences are drowned or charmed.
Soothing that your grey eyes sleep
Soothing that I walk away,
Walked to seek another life
Where conflicts' brat is held at bay.
Soothing now the day is still
Soothing that the air is calm,
Tho now I long for happenstance
In cut and ****** of battles' harm.

Marshalg
Becalmed.
4 November 2012

Strange how the dank hand of disaster clarifies the thinking,
How all irrelevancies are scoured from the frontal lobe,
How, strangely, should you look into the morning sky, the blueness is of a brilliant, startling intensity.
How biting into a piece of fresh fruit reveals the new mouth watering,  exquisiteness of clean sweet,flavour.

Strange how the dank hand of disaster allow us to consolidate our values.
Where suddenly, the drabness of yesterday becomes the brightly,beautiful now.
Where miserable mindedness adopts an abrupt re-evaluation, in that the sour faced neighbour is embraced with passion as being a fellow survivor.
Where the rich and the poor are thrown together to work willingly, cheek by jowel, for a common cause…Tomorrow!.

Strange how the dank hand of disaster brings out THE VERY BEST IN US …isn’t it ?**

Marshalg
A commonality observed In having survived many disasters over the years.
1 November 2012

Oh....that I could reach beyond all this.......
Throw my mind above its' boundaries......
Tear down the walls which border my resolve,
Shed restrictions of temperament and expression,
Adopt a wisdom of honesty and clarity,
OPEN UP MY FACE TO ACTUALITY....
...and have the courage to wear it all....UPFRONT!*

Marshalg

The regions’ magic carpets are a-beckoning
The brassware in the back bazaars aglow,
Exotic spice is nice
For a very reasonable price
And the camel market’s just the place to go.


But…


Afghanistan’s dark Muslims are scheming
The women folk are sharpening their knives,
When foreign troops depart
The bloodletting will start
With collaborators screaming for their lives.


The children of the Ottoman are smarting
For their neighbours are showing them disdain
By peppering with bombs
Along with Syria’s pogroms
And I wonder why the local folk complain?


Oh the sun comes up with glory in old Egypt
As another national leader meets demise
And old Nasser’s bile will burn
As from his grave he will return
To try to rectify his children’s Holy lies.


There are whispers of  a strike at the reactor.
There are reactionary reactions from Iran
With annulment of the bomb
The region should resume aplomb
But I have my doubts this mixture really can.


And it never rains on dear old dusty Cairo,
Here, you never feel the chill of falling snow,
You may stalk the back bazaars
For the rare blue water jars
But you should really buy protection when you go.



And they whinge that all the tourists here are dwindling
That the middle Eastern charm is all but spent,
When the red blood flows like wine
In the good old Bhyzantine
As the peace of night, with gunfire, is wrent.


But…


The dates are really sweet
And the carpetry so neat
And the music is exotic in the night,
And with the flash of Asian eyes
I can guarantee surprise
As you flee for very life…with ****** fright!


Marshalg
From the dark Bazaar
23 October 2012

© 2012 Marshal Gebbie

Locked within expressions
In this little girl’s smile
Are nuances of wonderment
Destined to compile,
All the mystery of womanhood,
The guile of the breed,
The allure of her ***
And the promise of seed.
Her love for her mother,
Her joy for her dad,
Her path to tomorrow
Be it happy or sad,
The tears and the joyfulness
Stretched out before..
There’s the dog at the hearth
And the cat at the door.
And the beautiful sunsets
Those blue eyes will see
And the love of her life
Who’ll get down on his knee,
The scent of the lavender
Fresh from the fields
And the lakeside laburnum
Which subtly yields.
The colours of love
And the texture of fire
When the threads of her life
Turn to passion’s desire.
The moment of truth
When she turns to her mom
And her face wears the smile
And her arms bear….a son.
Oh the world turns in circles
Of shades of soft hue
And time waits for no soul,
Especially you,
And the babes of today
Become mothers of yore
And the great lesson learned
Is.... keep open the door.*



Uncle Marshal
With wonderment at the beauty in a little girl’s secret smile.
Auckland
12 October 2012



© 2012 Marshal Gebbie

Thought about the way my kids
Will judge the world I’ve left behind,
Wondered how perception’s eye
Will shade the tones of what they find.

Worried that the work undone
Shall disappoint the judgements made
And sway perception’s jaded brush
To paint the memories in shade.

It matters that regard is there
To render recollection’s sound,
To pluck the gems of warm regard
From detritus of earthly round.

To look upon my megre works
As worthwhile in the scheme of things,
To nurture somewhere in the soul
The song which satisfaction sings.*


Marshalg
Pondering in the dead of night beneath a hallowed frozen moon.
Foxglove, Taranaki.
7th October 2012

Torment in the passing song
Commits my soul to long…to long
For moments past in softer climes,
Where wafting breezes whispered rhymes
And lavender did gift her scent
To soothing minds of harsh lament,
I stroked my hand across her brow
To reassure the calming now.
…Disturbing how they got it wrong
That torment in the passing song.

Walk with me on stony hillsides
Walk with me in crags of schist,
Walk amongst Blue Borich carpet
Walk in lands of silver mist.
Feel the ancient history seeping
From the veins of shining stone,
Feel the company of Goblins
When you tread these paths alone.
Granite lattice work in marble
Layered from the depths of time,
Beauty and mystique and marvel
Walk with fear and awe, as mine.
Humble in these rugged mountains
Privileged to behold the scene,
I take my leave regretfully
For grandeur lives from whence I've been*.

Marshalg
Strolling through the ancient Schist in the bold, remote, magnificence of Central Otago.
10 September 2012

A cocophany of yabbering
An avalanche of sound
And not a word is understood
Frustration is profound,
Until a beaming smile appears,
Until a laugh innane.....

Then there's a pleasant realisation
That our language IS the same!

Marshalg
Great reaction to an excited Asian gentleman in a noisy, scorching sauna
7 September 2012



© 2012 Marshal Gebbie

Extrapolating time as distance, the last 1000 million years, which is the age of our oldest known rocks, is represented by the distance from here to roughly, 3 city blocks distant.

For instance:

Mankind rose from all fours just 60m down the road… and Christ was born just 60cm away.



This allows the enormity of time to gain credence in the capacity of man to visualize…especially difficult considering the limitation of humankind’s puny lifetime duration of just under 100 years.



But I beseech you… consider the advancement of humanity in that incredibly short span of his existence as a species.



From cave to skyscraper

From  raw bones to haute cuisine.

From jumping a metre in the air to manufacturing and implementing a successful research exploration to incredibly distant Mars.

From the snarl of wrath to an intricate debate on advanced mathematics

From faltering first step to Ferrari.



What other species on earth, or as far as we know, anywhere else in the universe… has made progress at this astonishing rate?

What other creature exhibits the drive and compulsion to excel and succeed?

What other creature exhibits the variance betwixt an expression of love in eloquent poetry and a declaration of outright, murderous  warfare… to his fellow man?

What other creature has the capacity for infinite creation and absolute destruction?

What other creature even considers these absolutes?



We humans are the vanguard and promise of tomorrow.

We have the responsibility squarely, on our shoulders…to endure, to succeed.



Marshal Gebbie



© 2012 Marshal Gebbie

There she stands so slender, white
A wraith in gossamer,  so slight,
A trace of smile on carmine lips
Her femaleness on line of hips.
You wouldn't know her yesterdays
She utters only terms of praise,
demure and oh so quite petite
She gives no clue she's from the street.
You wouldn't know the hardness there
The brutish men who wrought despair.
The brutish men who left her laid
Upon cold, concrete slab displayed.
She's past all that, she soothed her soul
And made another world her goal,
Changed her hair and wore a frock
Set her task, that done took stock,
Altered how she saw the world
Watched her secret rose unfurled.
Watched the sweetness feel the light
Watched with trepidation's fright...

Now she stands so slender, white
A quiet confidence... so bright,
Tomorrow's smile on carmine lips
Her femaleness on line of hips.*


Marshalg
Waterview
4 September 2012

Atmosphere is critical
Faces bead with sweat,
Eyeballs flicker nervously
Hands are clenched and wet.
Project beyond critical
Timeslot narrows down,
If there’s to be a future
It’s now we swim or drown.

Management are pacing
Their arses on the line,
Humour now is for the dogs
Long gone the laughing time.
Dawn to dark we labour
No time to count the toll,
Must surmount the crisis
Or desperate heads will roll.

Raving at the workplace
Ragged tempers flare,
Eyeballs searching frantically
Ideas tray is bare.
Job is blown to hell and back
Killed the ****** deal,
By Friday we’ll be on the street
It’s over ... ****** surreal!


Marshalg
29 August 2012







© 2012 Marshal Gebbie

My love, my love these shaky Isles
Abandoned in the vast blue seas,
Born in Mesozoic times
When sedimentary oozes ease.
From far Antarctic mountainsides
To windblown dust from Austral plain
They lay in layers thick and deep
Beneath the Tasman Sea's domain.

A thousand million years of ******
Of plate tectonic shear and drift,
Mid oceanic larva seep
Determines continental shift.
Deep magmatic plumes arise
From down within the planet's core
To burst asunder from the crust
As mountain God's volcanic lore.

Ash and larva from the vent
In pyroclastic feirce display,
Obliterate the cold blue sky
Explosively in massive way.
Rooster tails of feiry ash
And bread crust bombs cascade about
Vulcan roars his rage to all
In violent, vast, volcanic route.

Ignimbrite flows from the vent
In sheets a hundred meters deep
The incandescence, from on high,
Would, watching Angels, cause to weep.
Like quicksilver, it cloaks the land
To cover all in burning flow,
To last a million years as sheets
Of sharded rock where 'ere you go.

So the land was born of fire
And bent and twisted by the force
Of upthrust from the great, beneath
And earthquakes felt throughout, of course.
Earthquakes of unearthly fear
Wrack foundation's very base,
Sudden as the artic gale
Unpredictable to face.

So the shaky Isles were born
Here to lie in ocean's vast,
Clad in forest lush and green
Snowclad mountains, rivers fast.
Well kept cities, well kept towns
Population proud and clean,
Beauty all around is felt
Perched atop creation's dream.

So the Shaky Isles exist
Perfect in their place in time,
Perched atop subducting plates
Perched in ignorance sublime.
What's around the corner now?
Who's concerned, who really cares
For Kiwis make the best of now...
The rest remains as chance declares.

Marshalg
Celebrating a love affair with my beautiful New Zealand.
31 August 2012

Gone the dwindled light of day
Wrested from my megre time,
Lost to restlessness of soul
Theiving inattention's find.

Diverted from the sunset glow
Diverted from the satin air,
A moments crass diversion lost
To innattention's small despair.

A moment from a busy day
Where tumult and confusion find
Exhaustion as the sun descends...
To respite sought within my mind.

Alas the moment passed me by
The folds of satin night descend,
A cup of tea is quietly poured
In waiting for the dark pall's end.


Marshalg
In velvet twilight.
28 August 2012

For my mate Chris*

To sit around in anger…does no favours,
To bellyache to me… It’s all unfair,
To hope somebody else… comes up with answers,
To see the world’s shortcomings… flaunted there.


A lack of motivation keeps you grounded
Friends and family try to keep you at arm’s length,
You loathe the Government’s lack of comprehension
In that joblessness depletes your hope and strength.


You feel those carbohydrates clog your arteries
And see your muscled body turn to flab,
Discipline’s resolve flies to oblivion
And you curse all that… which makes your life so drab.


Disappointment curbs the high expectations,
You feel the planet owes you that, to which you seek,
Aghast to comprehend your own misgivings,
You feel the need to say…but then, you never speak.


Then suddenly… a stark, clear realization
That NOTHING HERE WILL CHANGE…UNTIL YOU DO,
Until you turn around your thinking to endeavour,
Till then that something that you seek… shall hide from you.


So look, my sweetness, look into the mirror
Shed the worry lines that always cloud your brow,
Kick your sorry **** profoundly to tomorrow
And lose the ****** shards of bitterness….RIGHT NOW!



Marshalg
Endeavouring to re-motivate a lost cause.
18 August 2012




© 2012 Marshal Gebbie

A sadness has come over me
As I pass this corner bye,
A junction on the highway,
A lonely cobalt sky.
A sodden pale blue teddy bear
Stands pinioned to a cross
And the glassy glint in Teddy’s eyes
Transfix a sense of loss.

The traffic whizzes past this point
Most people fail to see
The sadness manifested
In his glassy stare at me.
The sadness of a lost young soul
Who failed to take the bend,
Who with his motor cycle crash
Did meet his Maker’s end.

I know not why he died so young,
I know not why he sped.
But know I do, the child like love
He felt for his blue Ted.
The sadness of a pale blue Ted
When pinioned to a cross
Stands sodden on a lonely road
Invoking tears of loss.

Marshalg
At Blue Ted Corner
Highway 20
Taranaki
14 August 2012

Suspended there, between the walls,
My concience, in it's ignorance, calls
Upon my callow, shallow self
To gird the ***** and bridge the shelf
Of failure...in my every day

For which my dear wife...has to pay!

Marshalg
4 August 2012

Hark the Kings of twilight sing
In strong discordant notes so clear
Not strangely, in some harmony,
When tenor tones caress the ear.

Discordant with a resonance
Both deep and bellicose with bass,
A vibrant tremor through the air
Creates sensation’s crest of grace.

And then a silent pause is felt
As soft violas fill the void
And build to carve a melody
Of pulsing rhythm so employed.

A cascade of exotic sound,
A riot fills the senses loud
And smiles of audience grow wide
As wonderment entrances crowd.

With golden light of setting sun
To purple-grey striated sky,
A swelling chorus lifts the song’s
Magnificence to place on high.

A brace of trumpets catch the light
As silver beauty fills the air,
The roll of tymphoni impacts
As plucked mass violin declare…

The cadence hangs in holy light
A breathless expectation nigh,
A soaring riff of brass and string
Brings grand finale to the sky….

A raging beauty fills the soul
The audience as one arise
To drown the theatre with applause
So raucous wild as to surprise!

The orchestra now take the bow
The proud conductor so defers...
For streams of sweat run down his back,
An ice cold beer he now deserves.

Marshalg
At the Auckland Symphonia
4 August 2012

Screaming rage, the old pachyderm charges hard
Scattering predators away from the ravaged corpse of her fallen friend

The carnivorous stork and vulture cloud simultaneously take startled flight & retreat raggedly to the nearest dead tree, there to turn and glare with accusing eyes and cawing clamour. The hyenas and jackals scatter from the stinking cavernous maw of abdomen and scramble for the cover of thorn bush perimeter. Their hideous cackle and yapping adding to the cocophany of the noisy horror in this small, dry and dusty African drama.

Wheeling about the old cow surveys the clearing and, satisfied she has seen the vile things off, turns back to her fallen friend, shuffling through the thick white dust, she stands close by protecting.

Unfurling her massive trunk, she gently wraps it's sensitive tip around the scarred tusk of her fallen companion...and standing there, In a long, long sentinel silence...she remembers.......

Standing flank to flank in waters
Cooling spray upon the hide,
Trunks entwined to rumbled chortle
Bull and cow and calf abide.
Striding through the Serengetti
Grasses tall and sweet and green,
Grazing in this luscious plenty
Happiness in joy unseen.


New born calf cavorts, unsteady
Laughing at her rubber legs,
Keep a watch for lion menace
Always lurking for the dregs.
Cow to cow companionship
Builds the basis of the herd,
One reliant on the other
Cuddly calf to bull absurd.


Sunset on the far horizon
Golden glow across the plain,
Trekking for the waterhole
Through acacia tree domain.
Zebra throng with wilderbeast,
Quail and guinea fowl
Run through grasses long and brown
But leopard on the prowl.


Fun time with marula berries
Dropping from the trees like rain,
Staggering drunk pachyderms
Fall about but feel no pain.
Violence in defensiveness
Circled by enormous rage
Calves protected safe within
Roaring lioness engaged.


Quiet of the evening air
A stillness in the herd
Affection of companionship
'Twixt leather hides doth gird.
Companions together
The wise and the sage,
Companions endureth
Through an elephant's old age.


Kilamanjaro crowned with snow
Though plains are cracked and dry,
Prolonged drought has taken toll
And many creatures die.
Trekking from dry waterhole
A million dusty miles
To find the next one caked with salt
Enough to make you cry.


And when the cloud of death descends
A pachyderm must cry
For the memory of companion
Will bring a sadness to the eye.
Remembering their sister ship
Remembering their pain
Remembering shared elephant-ness
Brings good recall again.


Reluctantly a parting made
And fond and distant memories burn,
The taste of Africa prevails
As  skulking, predators return.



Marshalg
22 July 2012

© 2012 Marshal Gebbie

Oh the years have paved the way
Across my leathered, weary hide
And wracked their worst, un-countenanced,
Before a mind that can’t abide…

Intolerance of racial plague
Or sanctimonious pedants, vague.

Serenely I have watched it play
Across the tapestry of time,
Watched the rise and fall of man
From point of view of one sublime
Who sits in sun, who sits in shade
Untouched by all the great charade…

Of those who claw a comrade’s face
To gain esteem in power’s grace.

With toothless maw I masticate
The softness of this pure white grain
Untrammelled by the lure of sin,
Untroubled by the drag of strain….

See troubled waters pass me by
From torrent flow to pebble dry.

Through clouded eyes I see it all
The strong, the weak, the proud, the vain,
And those who seek eternity
But seldom pause to sense refrain…

From softly spoken words of love
Where teardrops fall to pools of blood.

Verily I say to you,
Take heed my friend or feel the pain,
From one who knows the way of things,
From one who sorts the chaff from grain…

Take heed or suffer loss from chance
For chance controls this merry dance.

Across the years I’ve sat in sun
Breathed the dust and watch it run
Amok… as sane men have their way,
To rule and wreck another day….

They die alone in cold remorse
Whilst most ignore without recourse.


Marshalg
On the bank of the river Ganges
21 July 2012

© 2012 Marshal Gebbie

Take a sip of something sweet
Something soothing, something neat,
Roll the tongue around the taste
Take some time, there’s little haste,
Quaffle at the upper throat
And roll the eyes to quench the gloat…
For you are of the chosen few
Who’ve supped forbidden Angel’s dew
To touch the best a life entails
In tasting Heaven’s holy grail.



Marshalg
In Gothic Towers
17 July 2021

© 2012 Marshal Gebbie

ALERTS TO FINANCIAL AND MILITARY THREATS IN 2012 EUROPE

By John Cleese (British writer, actor and tall person):

The English are feeling the pinch in relation to recent events in Syria
and have therefore raised their security level from "Miffed" to
"Peeved." Soon, though, security levels may be raised yet again to
"Irritated" or even "A Bit Cross." The English have not
been "A Bit Cross" since the blitz in 1940 when tea supplies nearly ran
out. Terrorists have been re-categorized from "Tiresome" to "A ******
Nuisance." The last time the British issued a "****** Nuisance" warning
level was in 1588, when threatened by the Spanish Armada.

The Scots have raised their threat level from "*******" to "Let's get
the *******." They don't have any other levels. This is the reason they
have been used on the front line of the British army for the last 300 years.

The French government announced yesterday that it has raised its terror
alert level from "Run" to "Hide." The only two higher levels in France
are "Collaborate" and "Surrender." The rise was precipitated by a recent
fire that destroyed France 's white flag factory, effectively paralyzing
the country's military capability.

Italy has increased the alert level from "Shout Loudly and Excitedly"
to "Elaborate Military Posturing." Two more levels remain: "Ineffective
Combat Operations" and "Change Sides."

The Germans have increased their alert state from "Disdainful Arrogance"
to "Dress in Uniform and Sing Marching Songs." They also have two higher
levels: "Invade a Neighbor" and "Lose."

Belgians, on the other hand, are all on holiday as usual; the only threat
they are worried about is NATO pulling out of Brussels.

The Spanish are all excited to see their new submarines ready to deploy.
These beautifully designed subs have glass bottoms so the new Spanish
navy can get a really good look at the old Spanish navy.

Australia , meanwhile, has raised its security level from "No worries" to
"She'll be alright, Mate." Two more escalation levels remain: "******! I
think we'll need to cancel the barbie this weekend!" and "The barbie is
cancelled." So far no situation has ever
warranted use of the last final escalation level.

A final thought -" Greece is collapsing, the Iranians are getting
aggressive, and Rome is in disarray. Welcome back to 430 BC."

Temple of my soul thou do depart
To regions fraught with change unknown,
Regions wracked with tensions unbecoming
To that which is, by nature, pristine and demure.


How , in all sanity, can a mind so clear,
Barge into waters of stuff so toxic, so turbulent?
With no preamble, without a whit of consultation,
Without prior thought?


And now you *******.
Now you point the finger of vile blame
At my simple self. Now you ****** the blade
With malevolence to my breast.


A crimson flood of innocence cascades across the floor.
Confusion clouds the dying eye.
A sensation of childlike rebuke
Is the final thought.



Marshalg
Cast to a cold, dank place in my mind.
9 July 2012





© 2012 Marshal Gebbie