Coronation of a Princess
To elevate a Queen,
To raise aloft a Monarch
Who shall rule to seem as seen,
Who shall treat with due decorum
Her loyal subjects and her Crown
And adjudicate all personal preference,
Severely, not to let them down.
She shall marry into Royalty
Thence to breed a stately brood
Who shall tread the path of unctuousness
Avoiding steps into the rude.
Her decisions shall be just and fair
Her politics unseen
And whilst riding with nobility
Her associations shall be clean.
For she is known now as “Her Majesty”
And as such, she shall remain
Aloof from all conjecture,
And removed from callow fame.
Forever worshipped as our Monarch
And though imprisoned by her scene,
Imperially shall her smile shine bright
When sung….”God Save the Queen”.

God Save the Queen!
M.
27 April 2015

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

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

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

What are the odds?

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

Again, what are the odds?

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

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

M.
Foxglove, Taranaki NZ

Dangerous this penchant in your ego trip to power
Exacerbated by your volume, increasing by the hour.
So amplified by flunkies who pander to the worth
Of you, my friend, who incubate self value with your girth.
So dangerous this swollen head, this egocentric will
Rampaging through opinions here, ignoring all blood spilt.
Crushing rings of daisies and barging without thought,
Obliterating opposition’s tender preference sought.
Disregard opinions blatantly, you ignore advice from they,
Who endeavour to make right the wrongs engendered in the fray.

So dangerous this charging bull, calamitous in it’s wrath
To each and every innocent who ventures in the path.
So dangerous this selfishness which permeates your all
Because… inevitably your collapse shall result in my downfall.

M.
4 September 2014

Clouds in shrouds and thoughts aloud
Entice you far too soon,
For she who thumbs unseemly sums
Contributes to the gloom.
Chasing pleasures caustic measures
Risking all to play,
Ensures the visions quick incision
Forfeits what you say.
For thee, my sweet, this game complete
Enhances what you are,
To soar so high in crystal sky
Emblazons you....a Star!
M.

Tho thou walk through life aloof
And look askance at all who dwell,
All who wear the covernance
Of simple shroud in common Hell.
Tho thou speak to condescend
To those who bend convention's way,
Thy lofty tones are lost to they
Who undermine the things thee say.
Oh that thee, should taste the fruit
Bite the fig and sip the wine
Be aware of surrepticion's
Sleight of hand with concubine.
Tho thy sandaled feet be gold
Tho thy robes be lined with silk
Thee must best avoid the vice
That over compliments thy ilk.
Penance paid is rich deserved
By he who struts by fortune's way,
For should the winds blow well this night
Tomorrow's gale may make thee pay.*

M.
Pukehana Paradise
13 December 2014

Look to the past to find your demons
Ghosts appear as memories loom,
Transgressions weave uneasy feelings
The horrors glide across the room.

Tissue scarred for wrongs committed
Hot, wet tears run down your face,
Embarrassed feelings bleed discomfort
Bad reflections have no grace.

A writhing in your nether regions
Bleak remorsefulness inside,
Feelings based on actions rendered
Face your demons, run and hide.

Overwhelming sinful actions
Drive you to a freezing place,
Confess your crimes to Catholic faction
Bare your shredded soul’s disgrace.


Marshalg
@theGate
Mangere Bridge
9 May 2009

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.

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

Tangents fly
As serpents die
Life ends as it begins,
The ups and downs
Terrain of clowns
Commits it all to sins,
So, go for broke
It's just a joke.....
'Cos he who loses...Wins!
M.

But....Wouldst thou see
Thy perjury
In pondering my
Soliloquy?
And should thou wear
Thy penury
If truth should prize
Thy concience free?

Then, writhing thus
For all to see....
Wouldst thou blush
A smile to me?
M.

Insanity watched by these eyes far away
Sees the tail wag the dog in a deathly, cruel way,
Sees the Gun Lobby wield such a formidable grip
Holding Nation to ransom and shoot from the hip,
Forcing public opinion to heel and rescind
Any right to renege on the madness infringed…
Orlando, Kileen Sandy Hook and Fort Hood
Killing randomly, callously….not understood!
Little children, students, shoppers and cops
Loud bark of the rimfire till emptied and stops!
A terrible silence, warm stench of the blood
Cold terror emanates out and above…
Madness accelerates, reaching a SCREAM….
While political acolytes adjust…to be seen.

M.
Auckland and the world watching a civilization burn.
13 June 2016

Waiting here, at the corner of my life,
For that moment of lost love,
from so long ago.

Waiting for the breathlessness of youth...
and the deep ache of longing to revisit

... to electrify my wooden soul.

Marshalg
@the corner
19 September 2011

******* air to burning lungs
Clawing hands to slippery rungs,
Pumping tendons stretched to snap
Fleeing footfalls echo back,
Panicked souls in fearful plight
Plunging forth to darkened flight.

Running hard these heavy feet
Sprint away from whence fears meet,
Fear of blackness, fear of pain
Flee from black fears’ leaden bane,
Run to where the white light plays
Curl to hide from fears’ dank craze.

Whites of eyes and matted hair
Clenched in sweating frights’ despair,
Know that fear is hunting now
Searing panics' sodden brow,
Scatter far in disarray
As shames' sly hand slides in to play.


Marshalg
Victoria Park Tunnel
31 July 2010

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

Like lichen does the tension hang festooning from the very air
From coast to coast the tightness felt on every face, one does surmise,
That arguments erupting now between those best of friends who swear…..
That it’s no longer safe to air opinions felt, that cause the very bile to rise?
Show unease that now the ship’s adrift, unease that moderation’s fled?
Complain that he commands the wheel, quite rudderless atop a wild and thrashing sea,
Careening like a bull in a China shop he plays, un-fettled now and bled….
Whilst ugly souls hold all the cards determining that he says now, what shall be, shall be.
Pandering to every whim the media gyrate and squirm and smiling in that feral way, lap up his every word,
Dissecting every utterance, every nuance now imposed…and re-imposed to fit the scene.
Broadcast to the world as fact, a cataract of fact intact to be discerned as something quite absurd.
Blonde, braying, barging through, oblivious that we, meek and mellow, pushed aside…now find it all obscene.

M.
1 February 2017

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

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

Biden come and goeth now , quickly doth he run
Whilst wielding compulsions deadly smoking gun,
Coercing this allies need to restate
Defiance to China’s political take
Of tactical ****** in the South China Sea
And belligerence spat…. when we all disagree.

Like meat in the sandwich we twitch and we squirm
When thrown on the spot like an early bird’s worm,
Risking primary markets of pine tree and milk
Midst Asia’s burgeoning tourism’s ilk?
Kiwifruit’s sales meeting China’s demand….
Risk all this ….for America’s leveraged command?

Do we sit on the fence in a balancing act?
Or throw caution to wind, redress or retract?
Do we hang like the Swiss in neutralities’ air
Attracting contempt…. as both parties stare?
With superpower leverage approaching white heat
The decision demands that we’re quick on our feet!

A questionable pleasure to dwell in this spot
When the wrong moves consequence, clearly has got,
Too disastrous an outcome for Kiwis to call
Should China’s great markets vanish and fall?
Or the Western Big Brother’s umbrella withdraw
Leaving us, militarily, adrift once more?

Strong armed tactics, they both brandish here,
The quandary posed is starkly clear….
Shall we tip toe through the tulips, soft,
Or tell them all to.... GO GET LOST?*

M.
23 July 2016
Auckland N.Z.

There’s a strange cold, appraisal with a straight and steady stare
Which leads a man to wonder, exactly what is happening there,
Leads a man to ponder if it’s even now worthwhile
To persevere with contact with the rudeness and the guile?
It all leaves me apprehensive whilst examining askance
This peculiar reaction to my pleasant, frank advance?

What’s the ****** story here, right up and down the Coast,
Where initial stiff behaviour paints appallingly, the host?
Perhaps there’s cold distain for all the people of the North
Or inadequacy’s pink finger wagging guilty, back and forth?
Perhaps the ****** weather with its constant moody pall
Has afflicted them with gloominess, which could explain it all?

Geographic separation…that’s the answer, I suspect
With the hand of subjugation interfering, if correct?
And the constant ****** hardship and disaster at the mines
With suspicion they’ve been cast adrift to weather their hard times?
And the lack of any sympathy to coalesce at best
In a resultant indifference, now directed at the rest.

But…..
There’s a funny turn of fortune here for after a short while
Indifference turns quite pleasantly towards a welcome smile,
Communication warms to a chortelled stream of fun
And the beaming face indicates an acceptance has begun.
Just as soon as you acquiesce to a personable degree
And identify yourself as being one with them, you see….
The Coasters will embrace you with uncommon earthy grace,
And it’s Identified so easily, by the grin upon your face.

M.
Karamea
Wild West Coast of the South Island of New Zealand.
11 May 2016

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

Dissatisfaction curls the lip, so felt,
Alas we deal with what we’re dealt,
Contradiction screams her song
Alas that she could be so wrong.
Potential oozes from my pores,
(Of course my dear, what’s mine is yours)
Surely there must be a way
To reach beyond my limit’s day?
Limitations frazzled paw
Allows me much… but then no more,
Restricting me to what I’ve got
Within this irritating plot.
Dissatisfaction curls my lip, so felt,
Damnation deals with what I’m dealt!
M.

Reflective moments passed in mist
An instant lost to time.... and kissed,
With wish-full thoughts and wilfull haze
Which, when examined, threw a maze
Of utter, stark, futility
Which questions the stability
In all I treasure most right now.....
My ****** soul's sequential source,
Serenity's sweet bride, tranquility.
M.

Confronting the cold caller is a testing fact of life
An inconvenient intrusion to your day,
In juggling the impulse to immediately hang up
Or persuade him to, (so nicely), go away.
But if ensnared by the silky trap of honeyed words so soothing
You delay, for an instant, your retort,
You’ll be caught by good manners and politeness opportune
To indulge this telemarketer’s report.

“An Investment in a heath care plan, (I’d never seen before),
Or Insurance that’s so good it looks unreal,
Or the fund for At Risk Children and the Sunset Cruise to Spain
Combined make a fantastic package deal.
And it may have slipped your memory but I definately recall,
That special Charity you donated to last year…..”
All creating guilt reaction and a surety of knowledge
That the Credit Card demand is drawing near.

Reaction is important, to stave off being plundered
An irate confrontation could ensue,
But the neatest fun way option is to play them by their rules
When you capture the initiative to you….
Pedantically you question every point the caller makes
Every aspect, every nuance of his speill
Or You hear a different version of what’s actually been said
Frustrating this intruder to reveal….
Reveal the actual nature of the message true intent
By forcing him to deviate from script
Or better still, create a massive barrier of bricks
Which culminates in disconnected click!

M.
9 August 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

Benedictus my brothers for plummet you shall
As the Gods and the Demons collude in Hell,
Collude as to leadership choices betrayed
In the Land of the Free and portrayed as the Brave,
By the fat guy who rambles bombastic hot air
To the prance of disciples who worship his hair,
To the tune of collapse in spectacular way
An implosion of promise, (as that of doomsday).

Republicans howl to the moon, to the moon
For tomorrow is now in the claws of a lune.

M.
Aghast from afar.
28 April 2016

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, the wild rapture of 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 of a life’s goal achieved.
Laughed loud and long with the wind in my hair
Yet wept 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 December 2012

Happiness...A state of mind
Placed opposite to sad,
Degrees of joy and sorrow
That are neither good nor bad.
Your barometric reader
Determined by the day,
The way you play our cards
Or the whim of yae or nay.
Whichever way the meter flows
There is one guarantee,
If you've lived life to it's fullest
Your dying day will set you free!
So fear not for the dark days
They will come and go like rain
Tomorrow's dawn brings sunshine
To evaporate the pain.

Luv to you Nat.
M.

See that old man on the seat
Looking destitute and beat.
Easy to ignore that man,
Old and grey and sad and bland.
Easy to just overlook
The fact, that in his lifetime took:

A million risks to guarantee
That you and yours, today, are free!

Negotiations in his stride
To guarantee your fair pay’s pride!

The knocks and hurt to make ends meet
To guarantee your boots for feet!

A million friendly smiles to fix
The deathly, dull amongst you ******!

...So, when you’re tempted, next to pass
That dear old chap, there on his ****,
I charge you to forgo your youth,
Approach him with warm smiles and couth,
Go shake his hand and wish him well...
My bet he’ll tell you ...“Go to Hell!”

Marshalg
Victoria Park Tunnel
17 September 2011

Spun on a thread, a gossamer thread
Hung on a dream in a watershed,
Shadows suspended in effortless time
Regretting those words left unsaid.
Regretting omissions, those hesitant thoughts,
Words bitten back by the tongue,
When clear expression could lighten the load
To sing every song left unsung.
So dimly, through deficits' dust laden air
In a shaft of brittle white sun
My confession remiss for omissions amiss
Paint bereft-ness before it’s begun.

M.
11 January 2016

Tantamount to traitorous slime slips through
Unknown to me and most certainly to you,
Augmenting the treachery, bilious and bold
With a heart bent on glee and a conscience onsold.
Wither he goest the admirers do flock
With an indolence bent on quite mindlessness stock
And the weft and the weave of the right and the wrong
dedicate the tonelessness found in the song
Where an emptiness lurks in it's grey woven gown
'Cos the crowd's given up and gone out on the town
And the brainlessness bent in solutions then sought
Means the curtains are closed...and it's all been for nought!

Marshalg
6 July 2017

So hollow in intensity, so shallow in it’s depth
A crassness to integrity, opaqueness so bereft,
A shadow of its former self, this champion of the State,
Arcane in miss-performance with mistake upon mistake.
How is it taken seriously, Why be now, so bizarre
This monolithic monster like a spider trapped in jar?
Writhing in confinement, convulsing from within,
In ranting forth obscenity with florid faces grim.
All dialogue refusal then a storming into view
Of hoodlums clad in camouflage waving weaponry at you.
To barge over borders with a reckless disregard
Mouthing blame at all the vanquished in a parody’s montage.
Abuse at reaction from an outraged world out there
Derision to the sanctions and a startled, people’s stare.
Russia in the only mode it knows to bridge defence
Attack, attack all comers then barter recompense.

M.
29 July 2014
Auckland.

The busy checkpoint at the entrance to Gate 21, the CY06 construction site in the north sector @ Waterview, is manned by a particularly nice bloke.

He, with his customary good nature, directs incoming traffic to its intended destination, controls access to far flung satellite work stations,

ensures, with deft manipulation, that pedestrian workers survive the incessant vehicular traffic constantly moving in and out of the site.

He knows what is going where and probably more to the point; he knows what is not going where it shouldn’t.

Errant intruders and jaywalkers are deflected efficiently and politely.

Seemingly catastrophic situations are dispersed harmlessly and with effortless panache.

Nobody here is offended…and the system flows like silk.



John@ the Gate is an under rated, key man in the organisation.

A small cog in this very big wheel who has quietly made himself, over time, indispensable…and indeed, a legend.



When, soon, the dust has settled, and the Captains and the Kings have departed… when the heavy plant noise has abated….

And when the traffic is flowing like a ribbon through the new tunnels and streaming smoothly over the majestic high flyovers…

The Spirit of John@theGate shall remain hovering in this place,

suspended vividly, in the memories of 1000 construction workers who have valued his contribution to the cause...

And have marveled at his, ever present, amazing, good grace.



Marshalg

Project Plant Co-ordinator

Wellconnected Alliance

Auckland.

1 September 2016

Softly slips the moment
In the waning of the day,
When the tenderness reflected
Lets a sadness fade away.
As the setting sun throws highlights
To tall timbers on the ridge
And the burble of the brook
Running soft beneath the bridge.
Flocking starlings settle
To gently chortle in the eve,
Whilst the maiden herds the cattle
In for milking, I believe.
The countryside quiescent
A peacefulness descends,
With the falling shroud of darkness
My velvet daylight ends.

M@Foxglove.Taranaki.NZ
24 January 2025

I’m blowing the whistle on they, those morally compromised fey
Who prey on the crowd all complaining aloud as collapsed mortgage fritters away.
Whilst the fat bankers dance a jig all the rip offs are ******* the pig
And at the end of the day, these protagonists say, “The Controllers here don’t give a fig!”
It’s the Federal Reserve that’s to blame and old Greenspan is floating in shame
‘Cos the system’s a sham and they don’t give a **** and nobody here’s naming a name.
Now the greed and the arrogance flows, how extensively, nobody knows
They all cover their bums and they snigger to chums as the de-frauded now come to blows.
For today’s finance, Government, sport and the God factory’s… all just a rort
On the verge of collapse or at least in prolapse, leaving truth and integrity…..BOUGHT!

M.
Auckland, 16 January 2016

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

Those ancient bones feel no remorse
They've trudged the mire and run the course,
Seeped the blood and moaned aloud
Despite the murmuring of crowd,
Despite the caw of she who brayes
Or of the friend, who nothing says.
Despite betrayals smoking gun
Or silence of the songs unsung,
Sweet sadly fading colour's pall
When rich chatreuse was your recall....
Loves lament in darkened lane
As lips, once kissed, now flee the flame...
Sad, so sad with no recourse
For ancient bones can't feel remorse.
M.

A poem for Steve Yocum


“Hark to me”, a wise man said,
“Behold the past and present thread
Of passions held within your heart,
In memories recalled from the start”.

Treasure flooding through your mind
Of joy released in life’s rewind….

“Hearts, minds and memories, my son,
Will well endure till living’s done”.

© 2012 Marshal Gebbie

Dance to the tune of yesterdays promise
Hope for the pay out on another days win,
Cast around for that magical formula
Knowing that lotto is primarily spin.
Frantically poised with high expectations,
Ready to pounce on that first lucky break,
Keeping the ace card carefully hidden
Waste it and you'll be as mad as a snake.

What determines the gap between winners and losers,
What is the difference in the mode of approach?
Is the talent to guess what's round the corner
The key to dismantling this realm of reproach?
Happiness rests on a knife edge balance
Having too many is as bad as too few,
Suspicion that others are stealing it off you
Destroys you as much as poverty will do.

How many fat cats are really ecstatic,
How many lie awake in their beds?
Tossing and turning, worrying, burning.
Suspicion and avarice tormenting their heads.
On the other hand poorness is no picnic either,
Hardship and hunger are no friends of mine.
Destitution and cranial aimlessness....
Lost to the world and a great waste of time.

So what have you got? What is the answer?
Go for broke and ****** the cost?
Walk over your mates and live with the consequence
Or hold back and join the legions of lost?
As I walk through the valley of death I ponder,
Lost in this web of lust and intrigue,
Am I coming to terms with greed and confusion
Or going backwards and starting to bleed?

Marshalg
At the Gate
Mangere Bridge
4th January 2008

"In peace our nations unite"
...to do exactly what?

Wring our hands in horror?
Write to the Gazette?
Retreat to the safety of our invisibility?
The sanctuary of our silence?
Quiver, hidden in the doubtful safety of the masses?

Most people will do this,
lament the tragedy and let it slide with a shake of the head and a frightened, pious silence...

When in actual fact.....
what we all should do is take up the drum and beat it deafeningly, furiously...and together, roar our fury to the powers that be....

That they take up the sickle and pursue these creatures to the end of the earth and deal to them once and for all!

Amen
M.

Foment in a sea of green
With torment in its tail,
Writhing in performance
Wrenching in its flail.
Rationale cavorting
In ocean lost to foam
With rank and file aborting
Its chaotic flight for home.

Truth defiled to window
Pride divorced to flaw,
International prestige lost
To reputation’s door.
Pitiful to spectate
Administrators fawn
As those, once great, capitulate
To observation’s yawn.

America capitulates
Sunk beneath the waves
As pinkly, pouting proffers
It tweetingly depraves.
Once great, to teeter terrified
On brink of void’s abyss
I see dead eyes, expressionless,
Lurch on to farewell’s kiss.

M.
Observing, in horror, the demise of something once…. Great.
Taranaki, New Zealand.
25 October 2017

This moment NOW ..
This very instant
Is the ONLY Absolute!
The only period of importance.
Yesterday is relegated to DUST and memories,
Tomorrow is Vaporous and UNCERTAIN.
Promises are just GAS.
YOU want to make IMPACT in this life?
DO IT NOW!
SAY IT NOW!
BE IT NOW!

Marshalg
In the Absolute
25 June 2011

Hovering in the shadow of an undisputed retinue
Loitering intentfully despite our dearth of luck,
Pursuant of dreams now diluted by reality
So diffused amidst corruption that we just don’t give a ****.

What could have been, but wasn’t, in a wash of crude contrition
Being torn between addressing all or chucking it to hell,
I ask you where, in lifetime, was compromise an issue
Particularly if confronted by the tolling of truths’ bell?

Perhaps we should or shouldn’t in the light of an admission
Confessionals so painful in the starkness of the day,
And cowardice worn covertly is not our choice of garnish
So darling heart, this suicide’s the penalty we pay.

M.
5 March 2016
Auckland NZ

Over recent years I've watched the ebb and flow of talent coming and going through our little pond of creativity. There is a steady group of consistent writers who contribute regularly to the pool. They interact with each other amiably, encourage, enthuse and occasionally, mildly criticize the work contributed. Many demonstrate their dissaproval with a stoney silence, some leap up and down, others pontificate.
Generally we all splash around and find satisfaction in our own damp sphere of appeal.

We who dwell in the creative waters of this pond are comfortable with our lot. We are satisfied that we are in common ground with like minded people. Few rock the boat.

Diversity is the theme where the offerings range from personal tragedy to outpourings of passion and love. Political posturing has been known to rile whilst others have been brought to tears of intense sorrow. Gales of laughter occur and the odd snicker of amused connivance sneaks out from many, quite involuntarily.

We have no William Shakespeares, no Nerudas, few of the calibre of
Leonard Cohen or Emily Dickinson....but we do have layers of excellence. Inspired outpourings frequently amaze from the most unexpected corners of our gathering. There are those who elevate themselves above the many on frequent occasions but any and all of us are capable of producing the odd inspired Masterpiece.
We all aspire to produce our very, very best as happily often as we are able.

Sadly there are those who choose to retreat into the ether, vanish with their art into obscurity for reasons of their own.... leaving a vacuum in their wake...and then there are they who tragically slip under the veil of death. All of us have lamented the passing of these dear souls, recalled the valued past moments shared in their verse and their companionship.

Occasionally, a gem wades into our pond, producing work of such clarity and inspired quality, words and phrases of such unqualified beauty and enchantment that they command universal attention and amazement. These poets shine like the sun and are the focus of the moment of the many....admiration, inspiration, enjoyment and occasionally, feelings of envy. Few of these shining stars endure for long, for they recognise and realise their talent, their potential, and aspire for higher things. They tend to migrate to poetic elevations in ponds of a higher strata.

Yea verily, there be elevated ponds in this domain, reaching right to the very top! Stratified ponds in rarified air where, unless you measure up, you don't belong! Expectancies are decreed and insisted upon in these regions. Membership is limited, controlled....and expensive. It costs to belong up there and membership is not without a constant level of stress. In these waterways you are dealing with the very top echelon of performers, the egos and the prima donnas and the fancy. There is an insistence on adherence and compliance. Here you are either in or you are out...and expulsion, from this  domain at these heady altitudes, can be sudden, permanent and quite malevolently viscious.

So thee, who may aspire to soar up there with the eagles, ponder the benefits of thy current caste, breathe the clear air and sip the nectar of this pleasant province. Count well thy blessings and then consider the quiescence and the harmony of your current company prior to making any descision to venture to take that leap!

With respect and gratitude to the denizens of HP.

M@Foxglove.Taranaki.NZ
24 March 2024

Another empty hall
Where, just yesterday,
You both laughed and cried.
A dismal silence
Hangs
Where recently
Your spontaneous chatter
Filled the space.
An echoed
Recollection
But unfillable
This vacuum.
Interminable,
The expanse,
The sense of
Loss.

Jillybeans and Neddo,
My dear, dear old friends,
I ache for the
Familiarity
In this
Cavernous remnant
Of Life”.

M.
Winter 2022