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Jun 2014 · 835
A Subterfuge in Opulence
Marshal Gebbie Jun 2014
Conceit in lines around her face
Which mask an underlying pain
Of envy coined in terms of rage
Behind sweet smiling lips, ordained.
Within those eyes of brittle blue
The contradictions deep portrayed
In portraiture of crowning wealth
Beneath a writhing hate, contained.

Oh how the opulence displayed
The charm dispensed, the pomp, the fuss
Apparent ‘neath the thin veneer
Sincerity’s black *****, mistrust.
Hid beneath the thin veneer
The entrails churn in anger’s spleen
And woe betide the servant found
To whisper subterfuge, unseen.

On the surface calm prevails
Appearances must be preserved
Tea and sandwiches at noon
Shall on the terrace porch be served.
Deep beneath the knives are drawn
Blood must flow before this night
She shall sever dalliances….
Non shall witness sound nor sight.


Marshalg
28 June 2014
Sandringham.
Leave you hanging........?
That was part of the plan.
M.
Jun 2014 · 544
Like, Coming to Terms.....
Marshal Gebbie Jun 2014
Like signing on absynth in a fanfare of fashion
Is to take on ballast to flatter the crowd,
When the primary hallmark of singular cadence
Is to minimise ******* and shout it aloud.

Cocksure and crafty in colours of rainbow
Strutting your stuff on the red carpet’s fame,
Flicking the mane in a parody’s snigger
Is like hittin’ the town on the arm of a dame.

Walkin’ the walk in a welter of windfall
Like talkin’ the talk with the hipsters at hand
Like shootin’ the **** with a blonde on the pillow
Is like playin’ with fire when you don’t understand.

So go gather your pants and head for the hillside
Sit tight on the grass and ruminate well,
Sort out your crap in the filtering moonlight….
Try coming to terms with this day shot to hell.*

M.
Sandringham
14 June 2014
An attempt to ensnare the abrupt transitions of "American Hustle" using the glib idiom of todays "Kid Talk"...both a source of ongoing irritation to me.
M.
May 2014 · 2.0k
The Trammelled Pathway.
Marshal Gebbie May 2014
To…
My best friend and lover.
Protector of my lies
…You rescued me
And ****** me to my fate.

Spiralled the dopamine to brilliance
In my mind.
To spangled halls of light,
Reflective light, and calm.
A golden calm
Of energised, invincible intensity……

Addiction is thy name.
Compulsion is thy talent

Up, up the trammelled pathway
From the innocence of a ****
To the chaotic expense of ****,
Then to the dreamy, smoked Opiates,
And the scars of the needles
And magic of Coke & big H ?

And ultimately…
It’s all not enough!
The hollow inadequacy of it all
When finally…..
Nothing,
Nothing achieves flight.
Nothing attains the heights.
Nothing satisfies
Like it used to…..
No amount of money
Buys satisfaction!

Hopelessly
Into the Black Hole.

Down, down the trammelled pathway
And the body is wasted, thin
And the mind in misery,
And broke, utterly penniless,
Exhausted and spent,
Estranged and abandoned,
Alone, so alone.

Down the trammelled pathway
To the inevitable retreat
Into failure’s squalid,
numbing, bitter
End.

M.
May 31 2014
From the outside looking in.
May 2014 · 665
Song in the Citadel
Marshal Gebbie May 2014
Cathedral like these portals vast
Vaulting high in concrete grey
From echoed steps of poets walk
Through Pier Five’s companionway.
From high above the tidal flow.
Obscured by sheets of misty rain
Dull Hazards flash in red and green
With foghorn, distant, in refrain.

And from the darkened vault ahead
A plaintive note of tenor called
From one who sings in tones of gold
In breathless awe I stand enthralled.
In majesty the sad notes soar
Through vaulting halls of catacomb
I catch my breath and bite my hand
And stand in wonderment, alone.

Emotion rises in my breast
A stifled sob from falling tears,
Magnificence is in the air
Invoked, an unsought anguish nears.
I know, with certainty, that this
Magnificence of circumstance
Alone with God, in my lifetime
Shall not occur again, perchance.

Silence in a velvet hush
Descends, as if a curtain fall.
Carefully I steal away
Lest I betray the saddened pall.
Betray the solitary quiet
In recollection’s stark entrance,
I know I shan’t again witness
Such song in wondrous circumstance.*


Marshalg
Pier 5
Manukau Harbour Crossing
June 2008
May 2014 · 772
Moment in the Crowd
Marshal Gebbie May 2014
Fleetingly, in passing
A tremor of her lip, I see,
An anxiousness about the way she moves her eyes, averted now
And smoothes her dress as if to say…”How can this be ?”
Quietly so, in shadows, so anxiously.
Alone, so alone amidst the surging crowd…
Who throng, unaware of the quiet agony of she,
She who sits so quietly in shadow all alone….
Completely unaware the throng
And they, untouched,
Opaquely, move along
For they don’t care.
They don't care.

M.
May 2014 · 643
Seeking Bedrock
Marshal Gebbie May 2014
Vacillations weaving stance is perilous to all who broach
For he who says he will, and wont, betrays a trust and builds reproach;
Destroys regard and turns the thought to doubt’s restraining hesitance,
In future dealings, hence creates, suspicions pall in residence.

Wherein truth and forthright eye mark the man of rigid stance
He who will not meet your gaze is one who steps a Gypsy dance
And he who utters hollow words of promissory, turned to dust,
Is one, who one might best avoid…. and on no account at all, entrust.

For some are hard and some men soft and some have slippery palms to grip
And some, intentioned well, might fade as failed performances may slip.
But he who clasps a handshake firm and holds you with a steady eye,
To speak the truth’s resounding tones, when proven…. built on bedrock, lie.*

Marshalg
May 17 2013
Sandringham
May 2014 · 881
Quenching the Blaze
Marshal Gebbie May 2014
Happily self occupied, absorbed in my day now
I ponder the innocence of what I’m about,
Abstractions aside, there’s a sinister dysfunction
In gliding with Mozart and yearning to shout.
To whisper with wisdom in humourless spirit
Enables cognisance that all is not well,
To float with the Angels and dine with the Devil
Moots broaching with whales in a torment of Hell.

Oils on a canvass in broad strokes of muted
Cacophony’s clamour in tympani’s roar,
The contradiction of peaceful demeanour
When pulses ignite in a rage on the floor.

Then......
With impetus found in a midnight sonata
The calm of a full moon’s light on the face
Reason returns in a soothing dissention
Of kindness’s kiss and the luck of good grace.

This man can engender the passions required
To smooth the waters and calm the tides,
Intelligent catalyst found in a teardrop
Wherein lies the nourishment loving provides.
This man can engender the salve and solution,
Can rectify tormenting wrong in the soul,
With warmth in humanity’s lyrical laughter
In quenching the blaze of black anger's role.*

Marshalg
15 May 2014
May 2014 · 628
The Big Fade
Marshal Gebbie May 2014
Interesting that we older men now flag our own decline
Composted in this shameful ruse enacted over time.
We point to prime examples of our keynote men of age
De Niro, Keitel, Clooney, Hurt…all class acts, on the stage.
Take Clarkson, Rush, O’Toole and Bean…they brim like vintage wine,
Having come to terms with baldness and the sagging paunch decline.
Like them, we’ve learned the lesson of absurdity of life,
Where the trick to aged contentedness, is to pacify the wife.
An awareness of fragility in that pending death is near,
Is offset by the peace of mind of subdued *** and beer.
We say, to Hell with gradual fade of hairline, health and wealth
When a crystal glass of single malt can smooth it all by stealth.
So quell the racing, thudding heart, lean back in wisdom’s shine,
Secure in that with shaky hand…We can still quaff vintage wine.
And should the youth lose patience with a hesitancy there
We can usually still their arrogance with a knowing senior stare,
And should there be a question of a competency still?
Remind them their tomorrow too.. is running fast downhill.
Don’t sweat it with the walker, for it all arrives too soon
And sweetly on the wireless there was Perry Como’s croon,
Take comfort in the fact that soon they’ll put us out to grass
When oblivion comes creeping in Altzheimers foggy clasp.
To tabulate the good and bad within this lifetime’s span
Leaves the negatives predominant, should truth reveal her hand,
It becomes a bit obsessive when the mind’s allowed to dwell
For around the corner, probably, …. is a one way trip to Hell.

M.
Pukehana Paradise
Auckland NZ
May 7 2014
May 2014 · 1.1k
Soft Utterings
Marshal Gebbie May 2014
Makes me pause to wonder why
I conjour thoughts to let them fly,
Float them forth as dreams do sing
Of hope's eternal leavening.....
Leavening the quiet subdued
Of retrospection's agate mood,
As still as glass in hidden pool
Soft utterings of maudlin fool.

M.
May 2014 · 820
Slipping to a Flagfall
Marshal Gebbie May 2014
Fathered by a fantasy of ideal expectation
Nurtured by the fallacy of promisory’s sought,
Living out the lies of appearance as priority
Content in the hollowness of misconceptions taught.
Wafting through the days in a cloud of preconceptions
Drifting in a lifetime of falsehoods rendered loud,
Teetered on the brink of a precipice, precarious,
Arguing malfeasance in empty tones of proud.

Blinkered to collapse of society in freefall
Unseeing of the seething fraud which permeates the globe,
Blind to the bombing and the gunshots in the avenues
Sadly unseeing of unsightly flanks disrobed.
Perilously cloistered in a crowd of like admirers
Jostling for position in this flimsy house of cards.
Sipping pink champagne in a plume of sick pretentiousness
Ignoring words of warning with a haughty disregard.

Slipping to a flagfall in a shocking fall of failure
Slipping to a flagfall in a pall of choking dust,
Slipping to a flagfall in the hues of sad surrender
Sagging to oblivion in a staining sea of rust.*


Marshalg
Auckland NZ
May 1 2014
Apr 2014 · 2.0k
Tears for an Oaken Cross.
Marshal Gebbie Apr 2014
Weathered oak of ancient age
Sandblasted by Sirocco storm
Ribbed and dry and redly sage
Deep corrugated graining, worn.

Grown on hillside far away
Far, in England’s verdant land,
Hewn by artisan of old
Hewn by axe and sinewed hand.

Hauled across a raging sea
By barque of ******’s sail and hope,
Washed by salted wave and gale
Lashed to deck by weathered rope.

Dragged across hot dunes of sand
To a land called Galilee,
Hauled by He, betrayed by man,
Upon the hill of Calvary.

Hoisted high by Roman hand
Stark against a leaden sky,
Red blood stains on oaken cross
On which His Crown of Thorns shall cry.*


M.
Easter Sunday 2014
Apr 2014 · 1.0k
Willmont Park.
Marshal Gebbie Apr 2014
Neath the pale and crescent moon
I saunter with the call of loon,
This haunting note through reeds on lake
Reflected moonlit ripples make.
I pause to ponder beauty stark
Of monochrome in Willmont Park,
In sillouhette of black and white
Through lakeside, rippled reeds at night.
Again the call of haunting loon
In silver light's reflected moon,
The chill air causing breath to cloud
My footfall crunch in sand, too loud,
Distracting me from beautious sight
Of moonlit lake on darkest night.
And yet again that haunting call
To conjour Willmont's phantom shawl,
Descending mist now brings the damp
Necessitating my decamp....
So.... with regret, I disembark
From gracious, moonlit Willmont Park.

M.
April 19 2014
Marshal Gebbie Apr 2014
Thunder's Rolling drum
Across the churning heavens,
Lightning’s mighty discharges
Flash across the waves,
Illuminating torment
Of a momentary vision
In portraiture of Hades,
A kaleidoscope of craze.

Hard rain horizontal
In howling gale of deluge
Revealed momentarily
In silver sheets of rain,
Writhing tongues of lightning
In jagged forks a-searching,
An instantaneous funeral
Through a million volts of pain.

Standing at the cliff edge
In the drenching after midnight
Fearful pulses racing
In the violence of the storm,
Spectator to the vastness
Of Devil’s work unleashed here
Spectator to a fearsome sky
Where the Gods of Wrath were born.*

Marshalg
Witnessing the most spectacular, violent lightning and thunderstorm immediately adjacent to my hilltop front door in Taranaki @ midnight..
11 April 2014
Marshal Gebbie Apr 2014
Solace in a lonely *******
.....How many of us out here have taken solace in the same secret moment, un-admitted to anyone, where a sense of quiet desperation leads us to a soul-less pulse of wet pleasure followed closely by the reproach of guilt, curled alone in a dank bed waiting for the release of a dreamless sleep.

M.
Apr 2014 · 619
Ultimatum
Marshal Gebbie Apr 2014
Forests burn in ashen skies
Atmosphere of putrid lies,
Fat Cats write their cheques of gold
Another thousand hectares sold.
Forest fall for short term gain
**** tomorrow's children's pain.
**** the leaden poisoned air
Here and now is all they care,
High grade autos, classy chicks
Snort white powder, cash for kicks.....
Use it all at headlong speed
**** tomorrow...Let it bleed!

Off the Serpent's head I say
Abruptly end the Fat Cheques day.
End the **** of forest green
End the poisoned air obscene.
We owe it to tomorrow's sky,
We fix the problem...or we die.

M.
6 APRIL 2014

And.........
You know the tragedy at hand?
It's that no one here will make a stand;
We'll shake our heads and turn away
And pray that sanity will play.

The Dogs will ride roughshod and bold
Until established stranglehold
To throttle those who dare to caw,
Intimidate with threat and claw.

I've seen it all, I'm sick to say,
The Bulldozers shall have their way.
The Powerful, who write the cheque,
Stack all the cards and rig the deck!
M.
Apr 2014 · 525
Deliberation
Marshal Gebbie Apr 2014
The flow of days proceeds abeam
Through ups and downs of minds that scream,
Enough!...Just let me be at peace,
From turmoil's tension, seek release?
And yet I glide from day to day
Counting cost in dissaray
To contravene my rule of thumb
Where brick wall bashing heads is dumb....
Yet on I lurch from year to year
Now comatose to feeling fear
Innured to all but that extreme
Which proves my origins have been
Excessive in exposure's grit,
Outrageous in the stench of ****...
Outlandish in it's waste of time
Which better spent, could have been mine.

M.
APRIL 5 2014
Marshal Gebbie Apr 2014
Whether we like it or not,
Friendship is a contract
Which, when mutually accepted,
Binds us closely together.

In friendship, we are bound emotionally,
We have a social bond
Which entails a responsibility
To care and be cared for;
To maintain and nuture,
To preserve the boundary's,
Hold to the mould,
And endure....
Endure beyond hardship,
Social discomfort,illness
And even death.

Trust me.....
To be a true friend
You must undertake this contract
And honour it indefinately.
You enter the roller coaster of emotion
Entailed with the close mortal link
With another soul.

Friendship, if taken seriously,
Is a heavy responsibility
But it's benefits bestow the participants
With the sure knowledge
Of a close warmth of contact,
Of understanding and dependability
And a confidence of spirit
In knowing that out there....
Someone very special cares.
M.
Marshal Gebbie Apr 2014
Hangs like lead
Is often said
That time is not my friend,
When sorrow slows
It often shows
Those signals sorrow's send.
Hangs like lead
Is sometimes said
That heartbreak heals with time,
Now teardrops dried
Time's reconciled
In hidden torment, mine.
M.
Mar 2014 · 540
Seeking the Sublime
Marshal Gebbie Mar 2014
For darlin Helen, who was having a bad moment.


Remember back
Before all this began...
When you were small
And fantasy was fun.
You lay in long grass
On your back
....and stared with squinty eyes
Into the sun.
You pressed your thumbs
Into your eyes
And made the colours glow
From emerald green to purple flash
To brilliant, running scarlet flow.
How simple was it all back then
How lovely in that space
When life's greatest complication
Was an itchy, itchy nose upon your darlin face?

Remember back then...not so long ago darlin Helen?
That was a moment of sublime happiness.
M.
26 March 2014
Mar 2014 · 560
Word for Gav.....
Marshal Gebbie Mar 2014
There is a word that touched my lips
A word which kissed my soul,
A single word that means as much
To me as ...Angel's gold.
As gentle as the evening breeze
Which stirs the leaves to blow
In pirrouettes of dusty spires
Where Autumn fairies go.
A word which holds it's hand aloft
In friendship's warm embrace
A feeling that transmits itself
To crinkled smile on face.
A word of such simplicity
A bond twixt thee and me....
Have you determined in your heart
Just what that word can be?
M.
Mar 2014 · 1.6k
Enigmatic Utterance
Marshal Gebbie Mar 2014
Enigmatic wanderings
Amid a field of plenty
Just can't explain the voiding
In the middle of the crowd.
Vaccuous emmissions
from a phrase of promiscuity
defy a wealth of knowledge,
harboured inwardly, out loud.

Enigmatic wanderings
Amid this field of plenty
Expressing dissillusionment
In uttterance unsaid,
Profoundly disconcerting
With banality's omission
In the way it lets suspension hang,
Precariously, till dead.

Marshalg
22 March 2014
Marshal Gebbie Mar 2014
Across this green and verdant land
Atop the snow capped reaches high,
Shadows lengthen as the sun
Descends in golden strata sky.

Alone I sit on granite stone
Contemplating nature’s gold
Why then, is my mood so dark?
Why then do I feel, so old?

I caste my mind across the sea
To continents adrift and lost
Where war and famine grow unchecked,
Where we, afar, won’t count the cost.

Where we who dwell in peaceful air
Rescind concern for they who bleed,
In Syria’s protracted scream
Or under Russian jackboot greed.

Where we who dwell in peaceful air
Withhold our roar of hot retort,
Who turn the other cheek to look
Away from honour’s last resort.

Where politic’s impotent bleat
Of sanctions threat for Cossack cheek
A nervous holding hand depicts
The West’s resolve is proven weak.

Instigators, born of wealth
And power, seeking more and more,
Manipulating Putin and Obama's
Calculated Chess game score.

We who watch with no comment
In green surround and peaceful sky
Now turn to look the other way
As they in distant places die.

Do we come to terms with this,
This dereliction born of loss?
Across the globe this dirth of care,
Humanity's lead albatross?

M.
Marshal Gebbie Mar 2014
There's shades of grey throughout the day,
Throughout the night entire
And should we bleed in questing need
Comparisons conspire.

Shades of grey when they must pay
To ply as best they try,
Whilst few shall rise to grasp the prize
We falterer's won't cry...

For Shakespeare wrote...
To write bespoke commits sad souls to die.
M.
Mar 2014 · 735
Betwixt We...
Marshal Gebbie Mar 2014
Who, I ask, has all of this?
Who, midst they, has been so blessed?
Who, midst we, appreciate
The hidden wealth within our quest?

Inspiration’s chosen few,
Have rationalised the jewels so grand,
Interred within the written word
We pass betwixt us, hand to hand?

As realised, this hidden wealth,
Not obvious yet all about,
This flow of verse is valued such
We can no longer…do without!

Conjugally, between we few,
Considerations shared by note,
A *** pouri of points of view,
Of eloquence imbued by wrote.

Herein lies our cache of wealth
Of magnitude exceeding gold,
To share betwixt… this verse of thought
Then reach to seek a hand to hold.

Marshalg
“Foxglove”
TARANAKI
5:00 am. 2 March 2014
Marshal Gebbie Feb 2014
But really girl, the truth relies on writing as it happens
Disregarding fascination's fabrication worn,
Forge ahead through egotisms barriers and banners
Carve the ******* mercilessly till the prize is born.

Truth reveals the factual in an act of contemplation
Contemplation cutting condescention's lies away,
Revealing now the whiteness of the values on the paper
Revealing now the prize of integrity at play.
M.
Feb 2014 · 1.9k
Caveat Emptor
Marshal Gebbie Feb 2014
Smart phone paranoia, contagious at best
Has the zombies a stumbling the streets without rest
Transfixed to their cellphones, oblivious to all
By the lure of the Tweet and the Facebook’s enthrall
It’s ironically depressing that with all of this spin
When you download the Apps…the Devil walks in.
They access your contacts, Your banking, your loans
Your credit card details, unravel your phones,
Delve into your Facebook and spy on your life,
Check back through your history and peek at the wife.
They sell all your secrets to bidders galore
And when you go bankrupt… they’ll show you the door.

It’s “Caveat Emptor” or Buyer Beware
‘Cos technology’s clawed onto us by the hair,
It’s the Devil you do or the Devil you don’t
It’s progress with the crowd or resist and you won’t
Compulsion is growing by systems in place
By government, banking and big business pace
Through Google and Apple and Microsoft sway
The data is mined and the marketeer’s pay.
Tomorrow is here and we don’t have a choice
Ya live without Smartphone…ya won’t have a voice.
And the dragnet for data accessed by the Apps
And the sensors and whereabouts GPS tracks,
With the malware evolving to beauteous height
Means ya privacy’s shot and ya turn out the light.*

PS: Beneficium accipere liberatum est vendere
     (To accept a favour…is to sell one’s freedom!)

Marshalg
Waiting for it all to come back and bite me on the ****!
Pukehana
AUCKLAND
21 February 2014
Feb 2014 · 1.6k
Scoot the Streak
Marshal Gebbie Feb 2014
One must believe in something be he misanthrope or gambler
In tomorrows omnicience or the future proof of God
The penance in a drunk's decay sets self destruct's imposer
Wether speakerphone's on disconnect or cellphone's in the bog.

Conveyance of a threat to adherants of St Selfwise
Show athiest's are proof here, in belief of disbelief,
Haunted by the images painting painfull retribution
Picture sympathetic **** star's allocated hand relief.

A moments allocation of a syllogist abstraction
Shows perspective of the calibre we now reserve for Saints
A paradox regarded as autistic fascination
In a one act play of living disregarding all restraints.

Deliberately indicative of fraternal heat's expression
Notebook at the ready and deep frowning at the brow,
Question definition's collage of confusion's contribution
Do we sit it out pretending or just catch the late bus now?

Marshalg
13 February 2014
© 2014 Marshal Gebbie
Marshal Gebbie Feb 2014
There is a burning deep inside
An urgency to tell the tale,
To rationalize and speculate
To paint the scene, to fill the pail.

There is a burning deep inside
Which guides the quill to dance desire,
Which stimulates the mind to boil
With pounding heart and eyes of fire.

A burning need...and urgent now
To share the thought with those who care
Who seek to read, to pluck what they
Deem relevant to take from there.*

Marshalg
8 February 2014
Feb 2014 · 616
Winning the Moment.
Marshal Gebbie Feb 2014
When bit by proboscis of bullying *******
When flayed by management’s moneyed constraints,
When cowed by political pressure’s publicity
….Irrepressible positives will cut the restraints.

For regardless of age or the state of the body,
Regardless of worriment carried in lieu,
Your irrepressible “up” shall rise to the surface
To wipe negativity’s blemish from you.

Irrepressibly, positively beaming in sunshine
Gleaming blue eyes in the sweet morning air,
Sprinting ahead of the crassness negated
We won the moment with wind in our hair.

Marshalg
In beating the odds
AUCKLAND
6 February 2014
Jan 2014 · 1.1k
Our Subterranean Goddess.
Marshal Gebbie Jan 2014
Our Lady visits places where no man has trod asunder
Places where the hand of time has kept them from the sun,
Places where the roiling earth hath ground to rend like thunder
Where history, as we know it now, had barely, then, begun.

With elegance she burrows forth, with elegance a seeking
Tended by her retinue of young, admirers’ lithe,
With elegance she sinuously writhes within containment,
To elegantly strive to shape her contour, uncontrived.

So femininely fabulous, admired by all and sundry
Her deadlines met assiduously, taken in her stride.
Secretly she smiles the smile of one who dwells thereunder
Who secretly entrances with her quiet performing pride.

Fare welled on her journey by adoring crowd and bunting,
Fare welled midst a sea of flags by rotund Prince and child
To coyly disappear from sight with retinue of admirers
To reappear with fanfare in a year, to drive men wild.

Sinuously spinning in her secret world beneath us,
Spinning and beguiling in uniquely female way,
Alice holds our promise in sweet dreams and aspirations
Our Subterranean Goddess…Our Lady of the Day.


Marshalg
Plant Co-ordinator
The Wellconnected Consortium
AUCKLAND.
27 January 2014

**Alice is our giant tunnel boring machine. She is currently 40 m beneath parkland and housing in Owairaka, Auckland. In 12 months she will emerge at Waterview to be spun around to burrow the return tunnel back to the point of origin. These tunnels will form the completing stages of the modern motorway system in Auckland. The system, which will be completed in 2017, will revolutionise the existing transport network and benefit the people of Auckland and New Zealand for decades to come.
Marshal Gebbie Jan 2014
Bending my brain to a mighty confusion
Casting tangential thoughts back through the years,
Try to come to terms with opposing profusion
From the conquering of Everest to Locherbie’s tears.
From soaring the heights in the conquest of cancer
To scouring the depths of depravity’s bin,
In rescuing pilot pods beached at the isthmus
To severing heads in The Killing Field sin.
How man can conceive of a Monet’s magnificence
Yet “Zeig Heil” the field grey of Germany’s brute,
Whilst fashioning spires of Westminster’s cathedral
To pushing ******* in a blue, pin striped suit?
A tenderness shown to a toddler at bedtime
Depravity’s best when they used Zyclone B,
The grace of His Holiness blessing the children
Hiroshima’s glowing from mountain to sea.

This weft in the weave of the psyche of the people,
This black and the white and the right and the wrong,
As long as he breathes on this beautiful planet
Man’s behavioural leap will determine the song.
The yin and the yan, the fall of the domino
Depicting the way the human mind bends,
The roll of the dice and the fall of the cards
Shall determine the outcome… in the way it all ends.

Marshalg
Pukehana Paradise
Auckland
NEW ZEALAND
25th January 2014
Marshal Gebbie Jan 2014
Greens and gold of lattice work cascading down the tree,
This epiphyte, so infinitely, delicately free.
A lattice work of green finesse, a miniature Cezanne
With exquisiteness of spiky bloom embellishing it’s charm.
Cascading down the grizzled trunk of gnarled and twisted hand
The hosting ancient Kamahi looms loftily, so grand.
Looms aloft with leafy bough so softened by the show
Of ruffled, pinkish bottle brush amassing high and low.
Hordes of buzzing, bumble bees so clumsy in their way,
Tumbling from flower to flower collecting nectar’s day.
With afternoon the waning sun lies hot on sultry air
And little girls in pretty frocks skip by with not a care.
Summer grasses long and dry stand statuesque and straight
With sweet laburnum’s perfumed heads a nodding by the gate.
Young heifers graze in clover in the dell down by the brook
And the fantail dances daintily seeking insects in the nook
There’s a special, quiet majesty pervading here, so fair
With the thistledown afloat, so still with golden motes in air.
Fills my soul with gentle feeling and a rolling tear, unplanned,
For this blend of quiet ambivalence through my beauteous rural land.

Marshalg
“Foxglove” Taranaki.
NEW ZEALAND.
19 January 2014
Jan 2014 · 1.7k
Solliloquy to a Judgement
Marshal Gebbie Jan 2014
How stand thee tall, judgemental,now? How dost thou choose thy bread?
When all around thee, finger pointers, leer and shake their head.
Have you found a sphere of comfort here, whilst perched upon thy throne?
Has it ever really bothered you, that esconced, you're quite alone?
You live with dire restrictions, imposed so harshly by the Court
And as socially, classed an isolate, it affects you more than ought.
Though recompensed so generously you feel the pressure bound
Because each and every day your judgement rendered, must be sound.
Each utterance decreed by you must hold good Law intoned
Or the Brotherhood Knights Templar shall see you thoroughly dethroned.

A Pillar of Society, though one who stands forlorn
Is the Judge who'se daily client's words are negatively sworn.
The Judge who waits expectantly for that ray of light to shine
But is constantly bombarded by the tarnished shade of crime.

The loneliness is tangible and corrosive wear extreme
For the man who sits in judgement and who'se wisdom must be seen.

Marshalg
Pukehana
13 January 2014
Marshal Gebbie Jan 2014
For Andrew and his incredible courage.*

Incredible the courage found to face the wrath of cancer,
Face the force, insidious, which eats the inside, out.
Face the trial erosion of eradication’s willpower,
Face the wall of silence in the primal need to shout.

Incredible the courage found to struggle on regardless
Keeping up appearance when exhaustion shouts...Let Go!
Hiding pain’s contortion in a parody of camouflage,
Cloaking blood, red suffering which really, now, must show.

Incredible the courage worn in lifting head from pillow
In struggling ***** again to meet a rising sun,
Smiling in the face of a diminishing tomorrow
Knowing that the enemy with-in's  darkest game's begun.

Incredible the courage shown to meet the gaze of friendship
Knowing well the condemnation locked within that look,
Irrespective of the depth of friendship’s comprehension
They all don’t understand the pain to life’s unfinished book.

Incredible the courage there in fighting for tomorrow
Marshaling the forces to drive this Devil out,
Clawing back a toehold in the face of grey oblivion
Winning back small victory with brave and primal shout!

Marshalg
Pukehana
10 January 2014
Dec 2013 · 4.2k
The Kraken Arises
Marshal Gebbie Dec 2013
From blue tranquillity where turquoise waters wash white golden sand, where brilliant fish school in myriad colour and shape, where magnificent squadrons of sleek tarpon and barracuda dash in perfect formation, grazing schools of silver mackeral through diamond flecked deep green shallows, to plunge vertically down to the depths of the black abyss and security.

Calm tropical waters which shimmer like aqua blue glass in the mid day heat and turn to simmering,red fire at the setting of the enormous, ovate, orange sun.

Sea birds flock above wind blown waves, their sharp cries a symphony of the sea, to suddenly wheel and dive en mass, to dine amidst teeming schools of flashing, shiny minnows.

The idyllic picture of a calm blue infinity of ocean framed, in brilliant sunshine, by white sands and gracefully bowed coconut palms.....and suddenly, at the horizon, a thin black line appears, It approaches with steadily, mounting speed, the coastline surf recedes dramatically seaward leaving exposed coral, mountains of seaweed and frantic flapping, beached fish everywhere. A sudden, oppressive silence becomes a distant roar. The sea birds, as one, take panicked flight... and a massive wall of water rears up and rises like a giant beast, to rush headlong, raging, at the coastline.

What once was blue and serene is now a huge cascade of violent black death and destruction, gigantically it destroys the coast, snapping huge trees like twigs, surging ashore, a tsunami of unimaginable violence it obliterates, housing, streets, bridges, vehicles, shipping, aircraft and people, thousands of panicked, helpless, struggling people, killed in a titanic, black, swirling maelstrom of inexorable violence. The wave is followed by another...and another, extending right along the coastline and beyond. Each wave larger and more violent than the last...surging inland for miles  until defeated by the accident of gravity in rising land.

Those who have survived, on high land, on tall buildings, in treetops....cling to each other and look on in horror and utter helplessness. They can only wait, in fear, for the monster to retreat before venturing down to the devastation below to render help where ever they possibly can.

Twice in the space of the last forty thousand years the Kraken has awaken and risen from the depths of the Tasman Sea to the west of New Zealand. It has risen to gigantic proportions and driven right across the Auckland isthmus to the Pacific Ocean. It has twice flattened gigantic primeval Kauri forests laying them waste, all lying in one direction, each time beneath twenty feet of debris and black mud.

Born in innocence from a natural tectonic adjustment of the earth plates, the Kraken doth arise at any time, in any place to wreak it's dreadful work upon we, who reside in our comfortable, seemingly secure and beautiful coastal idylls.

Marshalg
Dedicated to all the coastal population exposed to the threat of inevitable tectonic induced tsunami.
JAPAN. WEST COAST, USA. WEST COAST, SOUTH AMERICA. ALL PACIFIC ISLANDS. NEW ZEALAND. INDONESIA. AUSTRALIA. SOUTH AFRICA. EAST COAST, CHINA. MALAYSIA.
KOREA. THAILAND. PAPUA NEW GUINEA, VIETNAM. PHILLIPINES. TAIWAN. BURMA.
Dec 2013 · 1.7k
Santa's Story.....Anonymous
Marshal Gebbie Dec 2013
'Twas the night before Christmas--Old Santa was ******.
He cussed out the elves and threw down his list.
Miserable little brats, ungrateful little jerks.
I have a good mind to scrap the whole works!

I've busted my *** for **** near a year,
Instead of 'Thanks Santa'--what do I hear?
The old lady ******* cause I work late at night.
The elves want more money--The reindeer all fight.

Rudolph got drunk and goosed all the maids.
Donner is pregnant and ***** has AIDS.
And just when I thought that things would get better
Those ******* from the IRS sent me a letter,
They say I owe taxes--if that ain't **** funny
Who the hell ever sent Santa Claus any money?

And the kids these days--they all are the pits
They want the impossible--Those mean little *****
I spent a whole year making wagons and sleds
Assembling dolls...Their arms, legs and heads
I made a ton of yo yo's--No request for them,
They want computers and robots...they think - I'm IBM!

Flying through the air....dodging the trees
Falling down chimneys and skinning my knees
I'm quitting this job there's just no enjoyment
I'll sit on my fat *** and draw unemployment.

There's no Christmas this year now you know the reason,
I found me a blonde. I'm going SOUTH for the season
Marshal Gebbie Dec 2013
They have their own immortal feel
These monolithic trees *****,
The ancients with green wash and brush
did etch these hills, I do suspect.
The Gods did bless with outstretched arm
Descending mile on mile of pine,
Fir and spruce cascading *****
In green and turquoise laughter mine.
Delicate in tiny spines, cones of copper rough are born
Nostrils twitched in acid scent of conifer, of coniform.
Magnificence across the hills as far as eye can see they span
Share wilderness with bear and wolf.... I weep with joy, because I can.
M.
Dec 2013 · 3.0k
YULETIDE
Marshal Gebbie Dec 2013
There’s a sense of something really good this Christmas,
There’s a feeling in the air that it’s OK
The anticipation’s there about ….a happiness out there
And the weather outlook’s brilliant for the day.

Mother’s planning a big roast for Christmas dinner
There’ll be sparkles and bright spangles on the tree,
Underneath there’s quite a pile, gaily wrapped to bring a smile
And a kiss beneath the mistletoe for me?

Spare a thought for all poor souls who have nobody
Gift-wrap a parcel or two for the disowned,
To make some unknown person smile advances Christmas by a mile
And really brightens up the prospects for the un-homed.

It’s a day to gift good wishes to your loved ones
Share some cold beers in the sunshine on the deck,
And when we’ve eaten to excess and helped mum clean up the mess
There will be time to take a snooze…and what the heck!

So to all our friends, across this world, aplenty,
May we take this opportunity to say
We hope your Christmas be as good as we know it really should
And may Santa gift you happiness ….to stay!

MERRY CHRISTMAS

Love from Janet and Marshal.
“Foxglove”
Taranaki, New Zealand.
Dec 2013 · 456
Spirit of the Season
Marshal Gebbie Dec 2013
Whist shopping in the mall last week
To fill the Christmas tree,
A derelict old soul held out
His grubby hand to me.
"Spare a copper for a cuppa mate?"
He asked with shining eyes,
And there was something in his manner
Which quite took me by surprise.
Delving deep into my pocket
A Christmas smile upon my face,
I came up with five bucks
Which made his world...a better place.
He thanked me so effusively
His face a wrinkled grin,
Then we went our separate ways
And felt the joy of Christmas

....SING!


MERRY CHRISTMAS EVERYBODY
Love from Janet & Marshal
An old chestnut of mine which I wheel out every festive...for I have yet to find another passage anywhere which better captures the very essence of the SPIRIT of CHRISTMAS .
Dec 2013 · 623
Ya gotta Laugh 3
Marshal Gebbie Dec 2013
A plane passed through a severe storm. The turbulence was awful, and things went from bad to worse when one wing was struck by lightning.

One woman lost it completely.

She stood up in the front of the plane and screamed, 'I'm too young to die,' she cried.  Then she yelled, 'If I'm going to die, I want my last minutes on earth to be memorable! Is there anyone on this plane who can make me feel like a WOMAN?'

For a moment, there was silence. Everyone stared at the desperate woman in the front of the plane. Then the man from Texas stood up in the rear of the plane.

He was handsome, tall, well built, with dark brown hair and hazel eyes. Slowly, he started to walk up the aisle, unbuttoning his shirt as he went, one button at a time. No one moved. He removed his shirt. Muscles rippled across his chest.

She gasped...

Then, he spoke...

'Iron this -- and then get me a beer.'

(Author Anonymous.)
Nov 2013 · 7.1k
And Holy Bread...to Crust!
Marshal Gebbie Nov 2013
Jesus runs in Everglades, Mohammed climbs the roof
The Angels stamp in anger as the Devil stands aloof,
A wandering Pope in la-la land while Jewish hands do writhe
Those apoplectic Muslims glare while Catholics pay the tithe.

Religion, girls, has hit the skids…the game is up on God
With rosaries rotating hard, theologians do nod,
While Mormons rant moronically with frankincense and myrrh
The irreligious bark and howl in Rastafarian fur.

Sectarian’s recant Sanctum’s Shrine the rite of soul is lost
As neophytes are dancing… the High Priest counts the cost,
Theocracy unbalances as Voodoo’s stamp the floor
And the Prophets throw their hands up, fast retreating for the door.

It’s transcendental disbelief that’s nailed it to the Cross
With the Priesthood chasing little boys all credence here is lost.
With sanctity’s monastic plunge the pagans roar and shout
As Shamans scream their incantations…God declares a route!

There is silence in the Temple now, stillness in the pews
As dust lies thick on altars, a nervous clergy holds reviews,
What, once, was good and vibrant here, is now as dead as dust
As the Blood Red Wine evaporates and Holy Bread…to crust.

Marshalg
Feeding the pigeons by the dusty, open door of the very, empty Chapel.
30 November 2013
Marshal Gebbie Nov 2013
A Monorhyme for the Shower
by **** Davis

Lifting her arms to soap her hair
Her pretty ******* respond—and there
The movement of that buoyant pair
Is like a spell to make me swear
Twenty-odd years have turned to air;
Now she's the girl I didn't dare
Approach, ask out, much less declare
My love to, mired in young despair.

Childbearing, rows, domestic care—
All the prosaic wear and tear
That constitute the life we share—
Slip from her beautiful and bare
Bright body as, made half aware
Of my quick surreptitious stare,
She wrings the water from her hair
And turning smiles to see me there.
Nov 2013 · 1.2k
Grey Obelisk.
Marshal Gebbie Nov 2013
Stone of massive solidness, shards of gemlike flint
Crystalline refractions flash in noon day's sunshine glint,
Obelisk in grasses green, immense in grey repose
Has lain in place for centuries here, how long, nobody knows.
Created in the hellfire deep and ****** up from below
Molten in its’ infant form to flow with orange glow.
To work its’ way down mountain flank to plunge to cascade’s grasp
And tumble, grinding river stone, worn smooth in torrent’s clasp.
Rolling swift in flooded flow to beach by river’s edge
With grasses green against it’s’ girth in shade of leafy hedge.
Seasons come… cold rain and snow with baking heat in summer past
Millennia doth flow on by to leave untouched this boulder, vast.

Until this day I happened by, perchance beneath a clear blue sky
To rest my bones upon this rock, remove my boot and empty sock.
Admiring, in the midday sun, the snow clad peak and river run,
In wilderness of debris strewn from high volcano past it’s noon.
To notice with discerning gaze the rock, on which I sit, is glazed
With crystals of refracting fire to capture, now, my eye entire.
What secrets lie within this stone that lies so massively, alone?
What history has passed it by beneath its centuries of sky?
What stories could this boulder tell should I remove its silent spell?

Bemused, I tie my boot and yield,this obelisk to chosen field…..


Marshalg
On the timeless bank of Taranaki’s wild, wild Stoney River.
25 November 2013
Nov 2013 · 1.5k
The Dance, I Dance.
Marshal Gebbie Nov 2013
Forthright in my chosen stance
Deliberate in the steps I dance,
I seek to make my time fulfil
Attainment, while I wish no ill,
To others who would tread my path,
(though this may cause some friends to laugh),
“Uniquely” is the phrase I use
To walk the walk of life I choose.
So different from the milling herd
To make some other choice….absurd!
Forthright is my chosen stance
Therein, I dance the dance…. I dance.

Marshalg
“Foxglove” Taranaki NZ.
16 November 2013
Nov 2013 · 897
A Consumate Indignation
Marshal Gebbie Nov 2013
For many years you proffered friendship, albeit now, in disguise
For all that time, I held in trust, the warm expression in your eyes,
You claimed you worked hard, by my side, to help me build a dream, a cause,
And in return I gave for you sir, this understanding without pause.
The legions of referrals then, I steered, deflecting to your say
And trust, invested mightily, gave you the right to have your way,
Dependence there, a factor, over many years support
Now the barefaced lie revealed, the friendship, friend, was but a rort!
Revealed, you milked it all for gain.  Revealed, You snickered at my pain,
Laughed aloud, you played the fool and laughed outrageously, so cruel.
It robbed me of all self regard, a comrade’s mantle caste in lard,
I cried and wept for what was lost, then sat and quietly counted cost.
Betrayal, cold, lies on the shelf, to know thy foe… reflects thyself.

Marshalg
Pukehana
14 November 2013
Nov 2013 · 1.0k
The Apparition
Marshal Gebbie Nov 2013
Hark the stalwarts bray a song to heavens far, to heavens seen,
Gone the miserys who dwell in sordid tales of wrong.
Now the thing interred is wrapped in joyous thoughts to preen,
Of *****, substantial thigh pronounced and dancing eyes in song.

She who challenges the very ground you traipes upon each day & tread,
She who walks with  angulation's undulations deftly spread,
She who wears a tongue so sharp t'would slice a hand or dice a fruit
She whose eyes would dance for thee, for thee to seek pursuit to root.


Hold that brilliant thought in cortexed fields of pain, my son
For foreplay in the wildest scheme I've seen to date, has now begun,
And should you bring the very shards of war upon me then
Despite this death, with her envisaged, I shall rise to thrive again.

Marshalg
In vivid recall......of a very tall and particularly comely Irish *****.
7 November 2013
Oct 2013 · 1.2k
Just You & I
Marshal Gebbie Oct 2013
Our association makes the most of happenstance
When I hover close to look into your eyes,
To see your face dissolving into laugh lines
and witness your loud giggles with surprise.

The joyousness to hear your peal of laughter
Ringing out across the courtyard to the night
And to feel the balm of closeness in the offing
And the warmth of knowing everything's all right.

It's the way you take my arm in yours so easily
It's the way you sooth the worries with your charm,
And your boundless joi de vivre on the white sand by the sea
always guarantees this day will bring no harm.

It's delightful when we stroll along the lakeside
When we hear the sparrows singing in the trees
There's no unnecessary talk as we both enjoy our walk
And quietly celebrate togetherness with ease.

There's the moment when I catch your look of humour
There's the moment when we share the cherry pie,
There's the time we cuddle close to enjoy each other most
I think there's loving in the air for you and I.*

Marshalg
Pukehana with my girl
21 October 2013
Oct 2013 · 2.0k
Pygmalion
Marshal Gebbie Oct 2013
The cordons of existence are constricting
For the keepers of the dream have let us down,
Who will buy tomorrow if performances are hollow
Causing all the global spectators to frown?

American has been the silk pyjamas
Since ’45 they’ve lead the world’s display
In health and wealth and brandishing the muscle
But in recent times it seems they’ve seen their day.

For since Clinton’s time the National debt has spiralled
They’ve departed brushfire wars in disarray,
Default now looms obscene with disharmony supreme
With Congressional leaders ranting in the fray.

The fiasco of a Government held to ransom
By a faction of extremist’s from the right,
Whilst the greenback in decline won’t change water into wine
The dire threat of fiscal chaos causes fright.

So global confidence is fading in the dollar
And the watchers shake their heads in blank despair,
For the willingness to follow is now a bitter pill to swallow
When the USA’s rock steadiness aint’ there.

So, what’s around the corner for tomorrow?
What aspirants are waiting in the wings?
With a fading USA perhaps it’s China’s turn to play
Though that’s going to mean adjustments made to things.

Of course we’re venturing into territory’s unchartered
And the crystal ball consulted, isn’t clear
But one thing I can assure, if this is what we must endure,
Is that our tomorrows will be something, now, to fear.*

Marshalg
Auckland N.Z.
19 October 2013
Oct 2013 · 921
Perilous Prose
Marshal Gebbie Oct 2013
To my mate Stevo....with love*

‘Tis perilous, Sir, to write our thoughts to paper,
To commit our living words to those unknown,
For regardless of the flair expressed in writing all with care
The interpretation’s different to each clone.
What may be black and white and clear as crystal,
To others may diffuse as shades of grey
And the message, though succinct, may be read as challenge brink-ed
To confuse and collapse in disarray.

Oh the agony and the ecstasy of we writers
Is best captured in the rolling of the dice
For to script all saccharin sweet may be interpreted as… effete?
But a dour approach won’t be observed as nice!
Yet to lay about with broadsword is defeatist
And collapsing belly up implies a lie,
So perhaps the best refrain is to abstain from all the pain
And leave the ****** prose to fools who don’t care… why?

Marshalg
In absentia….again!
18 October 2013
Oct 2013 · 830
Ya Gotta Laugh 2
Marshal Gebbie Oct 2013
Renault and Ford have joined forces to create the perfect small car for women.

Mixing the Renault 'Clio' and the Ford 'Taurus' they have designed the 'Clitaurus'. It comes in pink, and the average male car thief won't be able to find it - let alone turn it on - even if someone tells him where it is and how to do it.

Rumour has it though, it can be a real ***** to start in the morning!  Some have reported that on cold winter mornings, when you really need it, you can't get it to turn over.

New models are initially fun to own, but very costly to maintain, and horribly expensive to get rid of.  Used models may initially appear to have curb appeal and a low price, but eventually have an increased appetite for fuel, and the curb weight typically increases with age. Manufacturers are baffled as to how the size of the boot increases, but say that the paint may just make it LOOK bigger.

This model is not expected to reach collector status. Most owners find it is best to lease one, and replace it when it becomes troublesome.
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