Do your dreams lead  you up to Nirvana?
Do you travel on tendrils of foam?
Do you wake in the night?
Does your heart pound with fright?
Are you scared when they leave you alone?

Are you happy to be a good person?
Do you feel you deserve a good name?
Do you anxiously flout
All your money about
And try hard to accumulate fame?

Do you help when a baby is crying?
Do you lend when your best friend is poor?
Have you fought for your rights
In political fights
Or just stood by and noted the score?

Does your life feel spaciously empty?
Do you cry in despair in your bed?
Is the pointlessness true
Is it happening to you?
Do you dream you’d be better off dead?

Does it all seem a little like hard work?
Are you ******* before you begin
Should you shampoo both hands
And discard all those plans
And ignore the egg on your chin.

Are you angry and filled with frustration?
Have you ground your teeth with rage?
Have you mounted a fight
Before this day is night
And determined to turn a new page?

Are you coming together at long last?
Has the breeding come to the fore?
Is your spine now straight?
Has your heart lost it’s hate?
Are you showing your ****..the door?

Is euphoria blowing a fresh wind?
Are clear eyes  searching the shore?
Has a day not begun
Without blue sky and sun?
Have you dreamt love might happen once more?

The freshness and sparkle of raindrops,
The smell of new mown hay
Makes the being intense
It discards all pretense
And announces hope for this day.

Do your dreams lead you up to Nirvana?
Do you wake with a song in your heart?
Are you ready to fly
In this peppermint sky?
Or does something… set you apart?


Marshalg
Mangere Bridge
18th December 2007

“Whilst smiling to my face thou
Hast plucked the ****** from thy boneless gums”
Thus spake the venomous she,
When querying the quandary
Of “The Milk of Human Kindness.”

That altruism,
Proffered by many as sincerity
In a charity bequeathed
To the disposessed and less fortunate.
Is an act which may be, in fact,
Obliquely or brazenly,
A lure to enhancement
Of personal nobility sought.

“But the quality of mercy is not strained
It droppeth as the gentle rain from Heaven.
Twice blest… It blesses he that gives and he that takes.”

Thus so, is ****** upon the truly altruistic…
An interminable questioning
Of the Impetus Behind the Act ??
In order to mitigate
THE JUSTICE OF THE PLEA.

How stands Thee?

Marshalg
25 July 2015

Have you noticed how bad news arrives
In packs of three collectively?
How odours cling  to secret parts
Unless they’re washed selectively?
How luck deserts the most deserved
Right in their hour of need?
How the will deserts the injured
When their wounds begin to bleed?
How the mysteries of the universe
Defy all logics' course
And the brave desert the battle
With the Captain on his horse.
How that ******* thing called happenstance
Will upstage us every day
And the thieves who owe us money
Intend to actually not repay.
How the rot is in the woodwork
And the stench pervades the air
And your wallets always empty
Because the Missus beat you there.
How you’re feeling kinda flat
When things refuse to spin your way,
....How ya should have stayed in bed
And ****** cancelled out today!

Marshalg
Up to my backside in trouble.
23 Novermber 2010

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

For my mate Ernest W who cared....

Invisible in silky strands, a gossamer of lethal thought,
Drifting through the nether regions, touching on my mind.
Complication’s vagaries encroaching on the circumspect
Magnifying well beyond solutions I can find.

Nervous in the groundswell now, I feel it all inflating,
Inflating to a curtaining beyond my self control,
Waves of peristalsis in a shrill persistant keening,
Locking out the sanity in holding logic’s goal.

Waves of peristalsis in a bath of perspiration
Panic in a rupture at the coccyx of my spine,
Ravenously eating at the fabric of all reason
Ravenously gnawing at this rationale of mine.

***** in a puddle on the floor beside my footwear
Cloying is the stench of the ***** in my drawers,
Lost are the vestiges of any thought of decency
Gone is the differentiation in my flaws.

Clenching of hands in a bind of blue confusion
Catatonic slowness in arresting the decline,
Vaccilating eyeballs are rolling for the camera
And utter desolation is a flavour on my mind.

Why be concerned with the shaming of tomorrow?
Why come to terms with the maunderings of late?
Why face the music of the mirth and derision
When there’s a more practical direction to take?

Glide to the realm of the smooth overflowing
Slide in the slipstream oblivion makes,
Slip the bonds of your sad  mortal tenure’s
Awful array of destructive mistakes.

Glide to the realm of serene independence
Glide far away from the troubled and hard,
Gone to the gossamer web of the ether
Gone to the nether world’s silky facade.

...........: But what's the guts Courageous,
You happy with your deed?
Are your friends all overjoyed
To see your suicide succeed?
Is your family unaffected
By the loss and guilt remorse,
Your sudden grand departure
leaving kids without recourse?

Did you think about the aftermath?
The chaos and the pain
And the long term implications
Of your shattered families' shame?
The guilt within your partners heart,
The kids who are confused
And the ****** dissapointment
Of your mates.. who feel abused?

The mess you left behind you
And the tangled web you wove
And the bruising of good memories
For which, you once,...had strove.
Your painless, quick demise, you thought,
Released you from all this.....
But the sadness in the silent eyes
Condemns you as ....remiss.


Marshalg  
In an effort to understand why?
....And explain why not !
9 December 2010

Terminate with Prejudice,
The word came from on high,
Synchronise the satellite
Above her in the sky.
Instruct the drone manoeuvres
To glide 10,000 feet
And fire the micro missile
Through the roof, but be discreet!

A haze of gas like perfume,
A sneezing fit or two
And every living thing within
The building dies on cue.
No symptoms are detected,
No evidence is found,
The toxic gas is oxidised
Before the hour comes round.

She lies in all her beauty,
Clear alabaster skin,
Green eyes stare to infinity
No heart, that beats, within.
Her searching words offended
The holders of the grail,
Who reached across the globe
To wield their deadly flail.

This Brave, New, evil World
With technology to do
The bidding of the acolytes
Who transgress borders through,
Of every creed and every man,
Across the planet vast
To violate, at will,
All human values of the past.


Marshalg
Revelations in a Scorching Sauna
26/11/2011

Dazzled by the morning sun clawing to the sky
Refracting to a million shards in opalescent eye,
Conscious of the brilliant way a soul reacts to light
Expounding in a genuflections inspirational flight.

Incredible the freshness of the dew on morning grass
Where green-ness saturates and then explodes like shattered glass,
Where the prism’s glow contracts within as image caste implodes
And the dawn comes up like thunder midst the blood red walls of Rhodes.

To feel the plight of Shakespeare, knowing words were not enough
Immersed amid the etching paint in Van Gogh’s manic tuft?
Meandering through vagaries of Einstein’s theorem’s pall
Is to rue at ****** humanity’s impending future fall.

Terror in the realisation mercy clearly can’t
When the blade cuts through the jugular to Allah Akbah’s chant,
Terror in the milliseconds sensed before the fall
Of the incandescent smart-bomb plummeting from high drone’s call.

What now the plight of splendour in the face of this demise,
Confronted by delusions failure now to realise?
In the dawning revelation brightly etched into the sky
Screaming urgent proclamation, re-evaluate or die!*

M.
Auckland N.Z.
Sunday August 7 2016

I really didn't mean it, promise I never even seen it  
done it accidentally on purpose instead
when its comes to purpose, I’m renowned for being earnest  
besides you secretly enjoy being completely misled

accidentally on purpose, accidentally on purpose
rules don’t have the same applicability
its only just a circus, when its accidentally on purpose
its a far lower threshold of culpability  

don't do me this disservice, it was accidentally on purpose,
please consider when apportioning blame
when its accidentally on purpose, almost doing you a service    
the blame is not even close to the same

There’s a thing called caveat emptor, its supposedly there to protect ya
sadly not against other’s intentionality  
when its accidentally on purpose, this rule’s completely out of service
tis writ in the annals of human morality    

accidentally on purpose, accidentally on purpose
usual rules they just don't apply,
accidentally on purpose, that’s why you cannot deter us
it permits me to self-indemnify  

Pete Granger DDA

I don’t give a **** who runs the world
Just so long as they keep their anonymous women out of the picture
And don’t knowingly, crash cymbals on Sundays.

Whilst I’m ominously left of centre and kinda’ right of everywhere else,
I can’t help but watch the political circus perform.
Polititians everywhere, particularly, currently in the USA, are flexing their muscle, using the tools of their trade to the best advantage:
Coercion, persuasion, exaggeration, the blantant use of unsubstantiated facts, manipulation, outright lies and even overbearing bullying.
I hear them rant, I see them strut.
Their egos blooming like peach blossom,
Projecting themselves on the populace.
Preening their image with self serving eyes, loving themselves shining brightly on the podium in the morning sun.

But here today, gone tomorrow.
Their words hang, resonantly, like loud vapour suspended…then vanish.
The believing crowd gathers, sways, roars, disperses…and promptly forgets.

The circus is global, playing out its’ performance with expediency, bombast, and utter disregard for consequence, collateral damage incurred in achieving their immediate imperatives…to Hell with the tomorrow ahead.…
Occurring simultaneously everywhere…you can watch the circus performing daily in Amsterdam, Washington, Beijing, Kolcutta, Canberra, Munich, London, Capetown, St. Petersburgh, etc.etc.

Watching this, with a sense of disbelieving astonishment, I’m amazed that anyone actually bothers to take any notice anymore?

M.
11 February 2016
Foxglove farm, Taranaki NZ

For my dear friend Ann Sharp,
who was one of the seven.

Sisters at the grave side
Wood coffin in descent
To the dark and cold embrace
Of this living earth’s lament.

Dear mother in her night attire
Has passed her mortal time
And tears of heat fall to the sod
From six of those in line.

The seventh stands expressionless
With clear eyes soft and round,
Red ruby lips set in a line
No teardrops tumble down.

A sibling touched her slender arm
And wordlessly sought how?
She turned her gaze with anguished cry
“Who shall we girls ask now?”


Marshalg
Victoria Park tunnel
6 January 2011

Whence did thee depart the orb
To seek the pearls of Jobe ?
Whence did thou retire to rob
And don the elder's robe ?
Whence did thee run far from home
To flee assassin's work ?
Whence was good sense realised
That thee had gone beserk ?
Whence did good become the bad
And rampantcy run wild ?
For whom friend, doth the bell toll
In the slaughter of this child ?
What will the fate's bequeath us
With this legacy of wrong ?
From whence will come the melody
When wrong consumes the song ?*


Marshalg
@theCoalface
3 November 2009

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

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

Meanderings of maudlin whit
Out beyond the thoughts that hit,
On matters vital and profound,
Which cause progression’s surge to ground.

Rather those that sit mundane
In ordinary pedestrian vein.
Living thoughts which cloud the mind,
Congesting inspiration’s  find.

Sifting thoughts of where to cope
To seek diversion’s antidote,
To caste away confusion’s hiss,
To render clear...creation’s KISS!

Marshalg
8 March 2012

Run ragged in moments
Of exhaustive length,
Frantic in metophores
Bewildering strength,
Blinded when critics
Weild axes of death
And asphyxiate quick
In the absence of breath.
Atonement for platitudes
Laid in the path
Of keepers of virtue
Who knew how to laugh
And agreement in principle,
Patterned or plain,
For doing the damage
And shouldering blame.

Marshalg
@theCoalface
Victoria Park Tunnel
13 May 2010

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

The wood room door was opened wide
I closed it firm last night.
I woke at four and felt it's breath
It gave me quite a fright.
I felt it's chilly, gentle breath
Exhaling on my brow
And upright in my skinny bed
Roared "Get thee gone ghost,
******* now!"


With naked shanks I padded forth
To set and light the fire
Whilst outside in the wilderness
I could hear the specter's ire,
It moved about deliberately,
It stalked outside my room.
I warmed my *** by fires heat
And cursed to dispel doom.


That icy feeling permeates
It reaches to the bone,
It is far to early for a call
Yet there's the ringing phone,
I listen to the vacant hiss,
There's no one there of course
So I bellow forth obscenities
And hang up with a curse.


Old Basil told me of the time
He watched with open mouth
Whilst a faceless man in hounds tooth coat
Glided past him from the south.
The housemaids tell with fear filled eyes
Of depressions on the bed
Where something sat and rested there
Laid down it's weary head.
Except the house was empty then,
Unoccupied by guests.
No cat nor dog nor friendly hog,
Nobody playing jests.


Some nights I walk the corridors
To see what I can see
And I fancy Thomas Dawson's ghost
Is quietly watching me,
For he only shows his bearded face
At the darkest witching hour
And it's usually in the dead of night
To the echo's of the old clock tower
When the mountain looms above the lodge
Enshrouded in the mist,
And the morepork calls its haunting sound
And the snow is moonlight kissed.



Marshalg
Dawson Falls Lodge
TARANAKI,New Zealand.
18th August 2008

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

Orthodox we, imprisoned in colours
Locked in hues of fear within,
Withering limits of spirit’s extension
Embattlements “will we or won’t we” the sin ?

Channelled in avenue's solid damnation
Skirting the sensitive’s damning intrigue
Entrenched in a mire of social containment
Ruled by customry, locked in fatigue.

God! To be free of this ****** limitation!
God!  we all yearn to emerge from the dark!
Shedding our cloaks of intolerable burden....
To sing the unquenchable song of the lark.

M.
Hamilton
20 February 2016

There comes a time, my Darling, when we must all relinquish the reigns.

I wrote each of our boys a letter . It spoke of our pride and love for them. It set them free and wished them Godspeed. It gave gentle , but good advice.

The letter told them of the wealth of possibilities out there and the choices which lay at their feet. It showed them the broad, clean canvass which lay before them.

It told them of our high expectations and the need for them to stay within society’s guidelines. It told them about social conscience and responsibility to friend and family.

It told them of the need to produce their very best work at all times, to strive for innovation and improvement. To take pride in their creations.

Those letters I think, made a significant change in the thinking of both boys.
The letters lay open the heavy gate of adulthood, for them to choose to pass through.

And I must tell you my Sweet, that writing and delivering those letters, left me standing quietly, with a strange, remote and sad feeling of contemplative emptiness.


To Darling Janet from her loving husband.

Marshalg
Auckland, NZ
5 November 2011

Arbitrarily flung to instants of moment
Scattered free in the gleam of the eye,
Cast with abandon to scattergun’s chances
The wondrous pearls, I’ve occasioned to fly.
Together with detritus maudlin to moribund,
Together robustness’s wrongness in rouge,
This crimson lusting with anger’s green jealousy
In scattered intemperance now fawning to rude.
Spindrifts of coarse-ness in calico fabric
Flooding of richness and redness in heat,
Shadings of blue in palaegic intemperance
Now flung to eruptions of laughter complete.

Marshalg
28th September 2015

Funny how you perceive a complete stranger

....to be a friend.

- Simply, on the strength of a few lines of prose

- Simply, because of an element of warmth in those words…

- Simply, because of a touch of understanding in the message and a trace of humanity in the tone.



And funny how, over time, you come to rely

On that presence…to be there.

A sort of subliminal assurance that you are

In the proximity of something of value.



And it’s not funny at all

That when this is abruptly withdrawn….

There is a tangible sense of loss, of betrayal.



Funny, really, how vulnerability manifests itself.



© 2012 Marshal Gebbie

When she left my  moonlight died
Laughter left my face and cried,
Memories became my dreams
In fitful, aching, silent screams.
When she left tomorrow fled
Writhing in my sleepless bed,
Now she’s gone her smile, so wry,
I glimpse as young girls pass me by.
When she left my light went dim
With dreadful numbing from within,
Now she’s gone I catch her scent
In every rose that may relent.
Now she’s gone my life’s a shell
In every moment's empty hell,
When she left the moonlight cried
Laughter left my face and died.

Marshalg
For every love that left.
15 July 2011

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.

Golden windblown waves of wheat
Reflect a simpler time
When complications ragged arm
Intruded not on mine,
When halls of great endeavour
Held their hand for me to take
And the fire of inspiration
Did a racing heart create.

When the colours seemed so clear to me
The flavours cool and fresh
And time stretched to infinity
When clouds and blue sky mesh.
A discovery of wonderment
In the pride of new intent
And the strength to hold directions course
Despite all discontent.

And the gathered acquisitions
And the stresses and the pain
Holding family security,
And amassing fiscal gain.
In maintaining social standing
And competing for the best
In a litany of compulsion
In  enslavement for the quest

And the pressures of the morrow's dawn
Throw a clamour to the air,
And the jaded eyes of yesterday
Sight the windrows standing there.
The waving rows of rippling wheat
Thrown far to distant scan
Invoke reflections of a simpler time
In the recall of this man.

Marshalg
Mangere Bridge
10 October 2010

Profligacy in restlessness
At alcoholic anger
Unflinching in collision
With a femme fatale’s charade,
Philosophising’s netherworld,
A place of sprawling labyrinth,
Perfidious to fiction
In a novel written hard.

Compellingly original
In counterfactual verbiage,
Accented to the ******
With a leggy broad’s demise.
Discarded on the pavement
In a moonlit show of disarray
Auburn hair cascading
To her open, hazel eyes.

M.
Auckland
20 September 2014

Back and forth, back and forth the public's vote awry
Just can’t make their minds up munching gubernatorial pie,
There's an avalanche Obama’s way then hard 180 switch
Tends to stymie up good progress, making governing a *****.
Tends to make you wonder who the hell is now to make the choice
When the population vaccilates with such loud and definite voice,
When the wheels fall off the programme and the public servants cringe
And stagnation kills decision… making every ******* whinge.
Guess I’ll watch it all on TV where the cards have all been flipped
But my bet is on a quagmire... now Obama’s wings are clipped.

M.
6 November 2014
Pukehana Paradise

Shipless in a foundering sea
Would that this, seem right to me?
Manless in a woman's world
Would, that some prefer, unfurled?
Hapless in a globe unmanned
Would, for they, be that as planned?
Planless in a thought unseen
Would that, this Kingdom's crown... unQueen?
M.

.


There have been many who would criticize my motives
An abundance who would take my case to task,
But of all the souls encountered in my lifetime
Your betrayal friend would likely, be the last.

For throughout my time of living on this planet
Throughout the chaos wrought in every simple way,
Mankind has strived to put his best foot forward
And wrest the most achievement, from each day.

Through battles fought in bitterness and hatred
In trechery and lies to kith and kin,
Though blood runs rich and red through rocky gutters
Inevitably, deep down, imbues the sin.

For continents and cultures wear their frailty
It's known that Presidents and Princes often quail,
When in the face of insurmountable black challenge
They, like us, at some dark moment.... weakly fail.

From Dallas to Twin Towers on to Lockerbie
We watched the fabric of the silver curtain fray,
Crumbling man's portrayal then, to scattered ashes
From that moment on.... until this very day.

Though brave words of inspiration lift the spirit
And silken tones of oratory stroke the goal,
It seems destruction of all faith is fundamental
If betrayal slays the trust to flay the soul.

So gird thyself, steadfast, with strength and courage
Summon forth that steel within thy mind,
Garner up the cherry bonds of positivity
And lead as if, thy very eyes command the blind.

That man aspires to greatness, I acknowledge,
In conquoring great mountains to achieve...
But the factor that determines the attainment
Is his unimpeachable capacity.... to believe.

Marshalg
Foxglove, Taranaki.
3 january 2015
(After reading Ken Follett's monumental novel, "Edge of Eternity" in a straight, great, three day sitting.)

I felt his shadow pass me by
That friend of mine from yesteryear,
Long gone, his bones had turned to dust
But still his laugh, I seem to hear.

I felt his shadow pass me by
Familiarity in the play
When warm companions pause to smile
As chance depicts they pass this way.

I felt his shadow pass me by
So close, I almost felt his touch,
An empty path I turned to find
And sudden sadness hurt, so much.

I felt his shadow pass me by
Unsettled in a fleeting smile,
Remembered from a distant time
When laughter rang aloud, awhile.

Then laughter rang aloud for us
When warmth in our friendship grew,
Until his shadow passed from me
To death’s dark door, alas, anew.


Marshalg
Sitting in the light of the deep, velvet glade.
29 November 2011

Hark now brothers, surely you
Will have been to where I’ve trod,
Out toward the far extreme
Of reason, near the face of God?

Surely you have ventured out
To realms of the far extreme,
Out beyond exertion’s pain,
Out beyond the child birth scream.

Come my brothers, tell your tale
Of how you tempted ****** fate,
In how you hovered on the edge
Of illicit exultation’s gate.

Tell me why you lied to me
Whilst swimming in your smile’s disguise?
What panic wracked your timid soul
When guilt exposed your weak, blue eyes?

How do you compromise your soul
When life’s reality drives home
To leave you standing high and dry
Abandoned there, exposed, alone?

What fantasy commits you to
The nervous way you handle guilt,
The way you always laugh too loud
And protest innocence to hilt?

Laughter will have creased your face
When realisation touched your brow,
Without exception-ALL WE SOULS
Share these weaknesses right now!

Hark now brothers, surely you
Will have been to where I’ve trod
Out beyond the far extreme,
Far beyond the frown of God.*

Marshalg
Victoria Park Tunnel
9 March 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.

A gossamer extravagance
More valuable than gold
But substance less as ether
Impossible to hold.

This is all the time we have
Every second past is lost
Irrretreivable to we
Who ,so nervously, count the cost.

Every mote of passing time
Fading from the now in mists
Losing shape’s integrity
Whilst coloured radiance desists.

What is soon to be, is now
And relegated fast to then,
Vanquished in a flick of fraud
Of stolen time to frantic men.

Like dust it pours through fingers
Seconds irretrievably depart,
Fleeing fast from consciousness,
Wrenched away from racing heart.

Lying in our skinny beds
We sweat away our seconds now,
Flicking eyeballs counting down
Till death eternal shows us how.

Marshalg
Victoria Park Tunnel
4 March 2012

© 2012 Marshal Gebbie

Who would have thought of staying,
Who would have made this home ?
Who would have taken clay in hand
And sculpted their own throne ?
How many fashion life afresh
When given half the chance,
What portion throw the music out
Then, commence to dance ?

How breathless moments hold the magic,
Poignantly a blackbird sings.
Shades of amber in the sunlight,
Factors in deciding things.


Take the reigns and ride like fury
Hear the thunder of the hooves,
Feel the fear convulse within you,
Once committed play the moves.
Perform as though you have the answers
Authorize to take command,
Let the raging torrents guide you
Do it all as though you've planned.

How breathless moments hold the magic
Reflections in bright golden rays.
Shades of honey glaze the sunset
Factors in deciding days.

Magnificence is such a word
To paint the passing, rushing years
But wonderment, as witnessed,
Has tattooed it's joyous, blinding tears.
The rainbow splendor of the colour
With the richness in it's tone
Engages these sensations which
We embrace as ours alone.

Satisfaction in the morning
Gauntlets run and mountain's climbed,,
Fortunes made and lost by breakfast
Life's array of gain assigned.
Satisfaction in the morning
Good friends made within this frame,
A life well lived without a mourning
T'were it not from whence we came.


Marshalg
@theBach
Mangere Bridge
23 August 2009

When she walks past in her loveliness
Do your nostrils twitch and flare ?
Do your senses swell with passion
When you see her standing there ?
Are  you proud to walk quite near her ?
Do you feel you're standing tall ?
Are there any compromises,
Is there any doubt at all ?
Is there joy in your tomorrows,
Do your expectations soar ?
Does she make you feel exalted,
Do you float above the floor ?
Is there magic in the very air
You breath into your chest ?
Are your achievements exceeding
Your considered, very best ?
Do you love her and want her
And worship her smile ?
Would you sacrifice all
To be acknowledged for a while ?

Marshalg
@theBach
12 August 2009

Friend I beseech you now…. nothing lasts forever
You deal a hand and play the cards to hold your pile together,
Win a few or lose a few we’re all players in this game
But mark my words the outcome’s won by fear… and not the fame.
Just make the most of what you’ve got regardless of the mix,
Let fear of failure motivate your liberating fix…
So spin the dice boy, play the game, you’ll either win or lose
But with fear the overriding force, I know which way I’d choose.

Good Luck!

M.
Foxglove farm
6 May 2016

How could the dead not realise
The secrets that you keep so near?
Why, would not, the shame you feel
Be founded in disclosures clear?
Naked, shock exposure
Plasters pictures in your mind,
Quaking realisation of the dread
You fear to find.
How the brilliant crimson
In your cheek reveals it all...
Why the squirming torment
In your gut becomes a ball...
Can you face the horrors
of the sleepless night ahead?
And will you come to terms
When you're confronted by your dead?


Marshalg
Walking in dark solitude
Mangere Bridge
21 February 2011

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.)

Ancient are the wrinkled lines embedded deeply on the face
As ancient as the sands of time adrift across the shadowed dunes,
As ancient as a deep abyss which spirals sand to windblown grace
A hidden place of time eternals' grace where texture looms.

Those looms of fibre, richly hued, in textures from forgotten time
Where hawkers clad in dusty robes in alleys shrilly called their trade
Of fabrics woven, coarse and tight, in sepia’s arresting rhyme,
To angled shards of golden light spearing evening’s satin shade.

As lantern light of haloed glow throws comfort small to dying day,
While nearby camels amble by, aloof to all but masters call,
Now chewing cuds of nonchalance, oblivious, which is their way,
Shadows grow to velvet night where diamond starlight distils all.

Ancient are the wrinkled lines embed deeply on this face
Of time eternal’s passage here imbued with passing ageless grace.

M.
17 April 2016

....and tainted in a plumage of a crinkled, mottled white
Where everything was almost...but actually, not quite.
Where the words appeared as doldrums in a tepid, tepid sea
And shades of green in dullness tried...but never mirrored me.

M

Loneliness walks hand in hand
With he who strides the long way forth,
With he who walks the path alone
Through solitary’s East and North.
Firm his sinewed hand so strong
That steers the compassed vessel back
Bridging pitfall’s chasm wrong
Through deft manipulation’s track.
Guiding they who pledge good faith
To fall then, by the wayside, weak,
Then in bridging disappointment’s song
Instead, he helps them to their feet.
So long that night of solitude
With stark decision’s crucial stack
When none would share that brutal loading
Weighing solely on his back.
Lonely is my leader’s song
Lonely as his dying day,
Would that he could share a word
Who would understand his way?

M.
17 October 2015

Twice around the corner
Thrice around the bend,
Twisting through contortions
Will not make harassment end.
Disparagement aside
There's a lesson to be learnt,
That your overbearing manner
Won't prevent you being burnt.

The reflection in the mirror
Is immaculate and tight,
Actuality shows fractures
Though they're kept well out of sight.
There's a teetering fractiousness,
A blemish to your soul
And no amount of posturing
Will keep the image whole.

Your background is impressive
And scholastically well placed,
Achievement in endeavors
Show you've never been disgraced.
You're social stature's formidable
And your teeth are Oh so white,
Then why is it, that you writhe in bed
In the small hours of the night ?

Why do horrors permeate
The milky hue behind your eyes ?
What source the irritation
When the great majority complies ?
What keeps your ego dominant
When you see the weakness there,
When the light falls on your handiwork
And drives you to despair ?

Twice around the corner
Thrice around the bend,
To camouflage your character
Shall not make your problems end.


Marshalg
@theBach on sick leave
Mangere Bridge
13 October 2009

Guilt by association for Kavanagh
In the face of Trumps' dismissal
Of a quiet womans' courage
and collosal fortitude.
M.
1/10/18

Sudden inertia, like syrup in veins,
Slows the momentum to halt.
Beleaguered confusion breeds in the crowd
To cause a contagious revolt.
Systems of systems collapse in the void
Order in chaos descends,
Panic in vacuum like flame in the fire
As all civil behaviour ends.
Stampeding bodies in wild disarray
As collisions now ****** the floor,
Tearing, gouging and thrashing the mob,
All clawing their way for the door……..

Now there is silence to wild disarray
Chaos to shambles, now quiet,
Police and insurers surveying the ruin
Try to ascertain causes of riot.
Imponderable queries and theories put forth
Are concluded with negative frown,
Until a small boy points out with a smirk…
“Please Sir, the internet’s, ….down!”

M.
Frightening how, when the internet fails,
….utterly everything stops!
Sandringham
16 November 2014