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

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

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



© 2012 Marshal Gebbie

Hauling hard together
Sweat stream in the eyes,
Sinews stretch like whipcord,
Tongue saliva dries.

Key man at the pivot point
Reliant on a lead,
To call the shots decisively
Whilst calloused fingers bleed.

Whites of eyes are bulging
And stress climbs to a strain
And the need for trust's reliance
Tests the mettle in the pain.

Dependable this long day through?
Pedantic to a tee?
When the crunch impacts upon him
When the tensions fly for free?

That's where the game is won or lost
As each is forced to bend
Then the last thing on your wishlist
Is for a fair weather friend!


Marshalg
Victoria Park Tunnel
Auckland NZ
2 February 2011

From the stroke of soft untruths
To the ****** of mortal lying,
Thee must touch the cactus thorn
To redeem what truth implies.
Thee must feel the pain of failure
In the hall of thy endeavors,
Thee must feel  the heat of wrongness
Through horizons of thy eyes.

***** the thorn to bring the bloodflow
Showing cherry on obsidian,
Charge the soul of carnal flood time
To thy consciences' discourse.
Pull the plug on frank and factual
As an alien endeavour,
Lift the spirit of thy lying
To thy level of remorse.

Whispering the white lies softly
Through embellished words and phrases,
Thee are pandering to untruth now
To a very great extreme.
Thou doth amplify the actual
Like tomorrow doesn't matter
But without the truth thy future
Shall be vanquished like a dream.

I say without the truth thy future
Shall be vanquished....like a dream!


Marshalg
Mangere Bridge
5th November 2010

Out beyond the distant freeway
Way beyond the wave lapped shore,
Far across the ocean, green….
You people fly to my back door.
Penetrating shrouds of weather
To slice through storms which wrack the sea,
Across those deserts dry and windblown
You lot send your thoughts to me.
From tenements in bleak Chicago,
Harbour side from old Hong Kong,
Across the ancient steps of Naples
Expression from thy pen doth throng.
Through the moonlight, softly filtered,
Past the beastly glare of dawn
Far across this tortured planet
Screeds of poetry, here, are borne.
Howling, gasping, dancing laughter,
Heartfelt words of loss so clear,
Sadness in great love’s demise…
Then anger, jealousy and fear.
Spontaneously across the spectrum
To materialise fantastically….
An embellishment of manuscript
To heights which brim an ecstasy.

Marshalg
Pukehana Paradise
29 November 2014

Slipping into darkened slumber
Silver tensions ease to sigh,
Dreaming intercedes with candor
Prone, alone with sleep am I.

Gentle snoring slides to tenor
Rapid eyelids flutter bye,
oblivion to deep surrender
Gentle, velvet sleep am I.

Dreams of rougely nippled sirens
Plunging to a calming sea,
Fleshed in swelling rings of passion
Slumber's sister's hand on me.

Deep down to abyss's chasm
Deep into  serene's pink calm,
Gentle slumber's sensual finger
Slides into oblivion's balm.

Marshalg
In repose
11 August 2011

Words of the masses are gathered in galleries,
Verbage is gathered in cloistering mass.
Masses are gathering to cloister their verbage
Where verbage is cloistered for masses to stash.

Nursing the words from a mind full of passion,
Coaxing the phrases to render them bold.
Weilding the pen with theatrical flourish
Hoping to God inspiration takes hold.

Legions of letters lie waiting in folders
Waiting for praise to hold up it's hand,
Begging acclaim from occasional perusal
To seeking the fame of a publishers' brand.

Passion and pain are an artists' portfolio
Ego and talent are held presupposed,
Preposterousness is taken for granted
But nil recognition gets right up the nose.

Gnashing of teeth and fingernail chewing
Coincide with a confidence fall
But the ultimate down in a work hard done
Is to have your peers ignoring it all.

A kernal grows from fleeting feelings
Inspiration holds the thought,
A thing of grandeur pens to greatness
Breathlessly... a script is wrought.

Dancing fingers grace the keyboard
Lilting music fills the air,
A wordsmith's touch of rich creation
Links the literate portrait's flair.

There tis done.. A thing of beauty
Silently I sit and stare,
Wordlessly, I thank the Heavens
Art is wrought and art is there.


Marshalg
Mangere Bridge
1 August 2010

Vaulting canyons soar on high
Shadows vast in orange sun,
Expedition treads the stones
Of exploration Mars begun.
Shifting sands in freezing breeze
Desolation’s red extreme,
Lifeless in the breathless air
As yet, no living thing be seen.

But soon…
Found beneath the rust red plain
Of ancient planet Mars afar,
The relics of an ancient tribe
Of humanoids who fled the star.
Humanoids so far advanced,
Far beyond our knowledge bounds,
Far beyond our comprehension’s
Grasp of that which now, confounds.

Far advanced but still despaired,
Despite the organisational skill,
Destroyed the lakes and seas of Mars
With need and greed and get and ****.
Destroyed the soft green slopes of grass,
Destroyed the gentle surge of surf,
Destroyed tomorrow’s promised day
With need and greed, for what they’re worth.

Buried deep within the sands
Soaring spires of cities great,
Skeletons of millions caught
By greed’s black devastation’s hate.
Greed’s black hand which gambled all
On fate’s capitulated stand,
To smite the delicacy of
This planets eco-balanced land.

Mars collapsed with quick accord
The atmosphere constricted, cold.
Vegetation died en masse
Population withered old.
A frantic few survived to flee
With silver ark to ****** Earth,
(Where dinosaur now roam the shores),
To resurrect a new rebirth.

A new rebirth in promised land
Where old mistakes should not be made,
Where simple rules shall stay the hand
Of they who walk in light and shade.
A new rebirth on planet Earth
Will guarantee a life of gold
To future generation’s child
Who shall, (we promise), grow, safe, old.

Alas- a promise poorly met
A stipulation we decree,
We who stand at ruin's gate
And planetary destruction see.
We, the children's children's child
Who stand in rust red, windblown sand,
Who look towards our distant Earth
Now do declare your promise ****** .


Marshalg
On the eve of man’s great push to planet Mars.
25 May 2013
Pukehana Paradise.

Birth is  a beginning
and death a destination
And life is a journey:
from childhood to maturity
and youth to age;
from innocence to awareness
and ignorance to knowing;
from foolishness to discretion and then, perhaps to wisdom;
from weakness to strength
or strength to weakness -
and often back again.
From health to sickness and back we pray to health again;
from loneliness to love,
from joy to gratitude, from pain to compassion,
and grief to understanding -
from fear to faith until,
looking backward or ahead,
we see that victory lies
not at some high place along the way,
but in having made the journey, a sacred pilgrimage.
Birth is a beginning and death a destination.
But life is a journey,
from birth to death......to life everlasting.!

Sammy

Oh ye student of Gothic complication
How dost thou writhe in a sea of nightly scented jasmine?
How dost thou cast off the shackles of thy piteous life lost?
To effortlessly shed the ruckfall of protagonists
...in a double narrative of well travelled refinement?

Linguistically intriguing it be. the richness therein enthralls.
A depiction of contemporary expression from a student of sleight of hand, wed in a rapture to the knowledge that whatever thou has written, shall flow through the fingers like a waterfall of soft white sand.
M.

So what about it all my friend ?
Has life smiled upon your face?
Do you feel the warming emanate
From within the planet’s  grace?
Has chance played a fruitful hand to you
In lady luck’s cruel whim ?
Has mercy touched your Devil’s side
When you’ve clashed horns with him?

Did something hold you back that night
When anger splashed its bile,
Across your pale and youthful brow
Across your jaws profile ?
What contained reaction so?
How did you stay composed,
When all around was turmoil
And reason lay deposed ?

What brought a small smile to your face,
A sparkle to your eye ?
How could you see the innocence
In this blackness called a lie ?
What is it in your make up
Which promulgates your best
When others will capitulate
To fail the crucial test ?

Why is it that you stand so tall
Among the mottled crowd ?
Do you realize your influence
In making we, around you, proud ?
Is the weight of our dependence
A  millstone round your neck ?
Or do you take it all within your stride
And grin and…What the heck ?

Do you recognize your leadership,
How you wear this mantle well ?
Dare you hold the flame aloft for us
To strive under your spell ?
Will you wear this robe of Kingship ?
Will you steer our ship of state ?
…For should you guide us to tomorrow
We can tomorrow’s burdens break.

Marshalg
@theCoalface  
Victoria Park Tunnel
10 April 2010

We come, we go
The west winds blow,
Like shadows in a giant expanse
We pass through life's exquisite dance,
We touch, caress
Endure duress,
We love, we hate
We watch abate
The highs, the lows....
The west wind blows.*
M.

Furtive in this Winter air
We watch a pale life hover there
Suspended by some hope defined
By gossamers so unrefined,
A silky substance floating by
Like spider web in azure sky.

We watch a pale life hover there
In freezing air, in sad despair,
The **** frost down on frozen ground
Reflecting hopelessness profound,
Saw lost eyes in a careless world
...But turned away as day unfurled.

Marshalg
@theBach
Mangere Bridge
20 February 2010

This hollowness hangs in the air
Lines of mist doth chill the morn,
An estuary of shifting tide
Forlorn the sound of far fog horn.
Forlorn this sadness in my breast
I quietly gaze across the marsh
Within the heaviness of heart
Now melds the call of heron, harsh.
Still these waters, still and clear
Troubled eyes within my whole
Seek to see the reason why
These tranquil waters bleed my soul.
A fleeting shadow passed me bye,
A vestige of my old friend’s day
Where honesty’s grey eyes reflect
The depth in how still waters lay.
How I miss that wrinkled smile,
Recall quiet humour in the eyes…
To see the morning sun break mist
When ripples spread as heron flies.

M.
28 March 2015

******* Bandit time is lost
A gone forever shroud,
Elusive as an errant fog
That’s slipped into a cloud.
Elusive as a crystal shard
Mixed secretly with sand,
You know the shard’s apparent
When It lacerates your hand.


Time lacerates your senses
Like sand between the toes,
It’s there and then it vanishes
Like vapored mist it flows.
Insidiously sneaky
In the way it sidles up
And gallops past like mercury,
Frustration's heady cup.


Were there ways to vanquish time
To pause it in limbo,
I would celebrate with agelessness
And a glass of fine merlot.
I would savour every nuance
And roll it on my tongue
For the taste of piquant victory
Is a toast to battle won.


Marshalg
@ the Gate
Mangere Bridge
19th January 2009

Warm orange is my love
As the heart of a flame from within
The deep black embers of a glowing log at night.

Brilliant blue, as the midday sky
When it’s hot, yet fresh, are my eyes
When they glean a flash of moist, white smile
In your happiness.

The spangle of rainbow tang
As a pinprick of candle light
Erupts in tiny brilliance…
In a tear suspended from one fine eyelash.

Golden green and amber
Is my happiness in this love…

But my passion is crimson.

And yellow daisies in a green field
For simplicity?

Marshalg
Albury
9.45pm March 28 1969

Tightening the rope as the fools dance and dither
Squandering the moments as hourglass falls,
Walking the tightrope in a world lost to thither
Assassins maraud as the fat General calls.
Flat fingers hover above plastic buttons
Hover in hesitant moments of pause,
Waiting in limbo instructions from Hades
Exultantly plunging to holocaust cause.
Plunging erotically down to the plastic
Smearing the sweat and blood in a pool,
Lusting your moment of utter destruction
Casting all humankind’s best …to be fool.

Doubt not veracity’s balance in tremor
Out there the Devil is dancing his jig,
Everywhere globally men flee in terror
Uncertainty slides with the squeal of the pig.
Russia inflates as tyrannical tyrant
Isis is spreading its carpet of blood,
Worldwide the military gird for battle
Appeasement disbursed in a torrent of flood
Shades of veracity flood Sarajevo
Memories taunt of that drumbeat to war,
Demagogues strut now the march of the scarlet
God flees reality….and is no more.

M.
17 March 2015

Clear and crystal
So anciently old,
So brilliantly fluid
And tastelessly cold.
To coalesce in vapour
Of limitless cloud,
To fall in fat globules
Of rainfall in shroud.

To cascade through air
As a mist in the fall
Or plummet as downpour
Through Calcutta’s pall.
Gathered in puddles
To flow down a drain,
Amass as a flood
To pour across plain.
To playfully tumble
From mountains of shard,
To flow to the sea
Where the surf crashes hard.

A field of marigolds
Bobbing in sun,
Nurtured by moisture’s
Life giving fun.
Green grasses grow
With barley and wheat,
Through the magic administered
By wetness’s feat.
Imagine disaster’s
Protracted drought
Where dryness obliterates
Green life throughout.

Sparkling clear waterfalls,
Hard pounding surf,
Trickles of crystalline
Cascades of mirth.
Rock pools so clear
That trout can be seen
And the bone china cup of tea
Served to the Queen.

Standing in rain
As it pours from the sky
With a grin on my face
Smearing mud from my eye
With arms outstretched
And a song in my heart
For the great joy of living
This water imparts....

Water my Angel,
My priceless gem.
A waterless world
Would bring death and mayhem.
An oceanless planet
As seen from the moon,
Would lack life giving blueness
And be hued in gloom.
Sweet water is life
In a miraculous way,
Thus we hail the Gods
Each rain swept day.

Marshalg
Sitting by the beautiful Manukau Harbour
11 March 2011

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.

Greetings David,

I am employed by Fletchers Construction to be the Plant Coordinator at the Wellconnected Waterview Twin tunnel project underway beneath Sandringham in Auckland.
My wife is a hardworking Senior Nurse @ Ascot hospital in Greenlane.

For sanity, about six years ago, my wife and I bought a lifestyle block butting on to Egmont National Park @ 1250’ elevation. We built a beautiful alpine lodge, cut tracks down the heavily wooded escarpments, built bridges across two streams, reticulated roof water between tanks to a boulder built fishpond then to a shallow, stone rimmed lake which empties down an escarpment to the stream.
We have planted hundreds of trees and shrubs on this property, rhododendrons of beautiful form and colour, magnolias, a forest of silver birch, oaks, tulip trees and acers.
The property is a wonder of swooping hills and dips which, from it’s elevation, looks out over the grey Tasman sea toward Tasmania. Egmont looms in it’s white, pristine splendour over our left shoulder and the close, dark Puhakai range rears abruptly, spectacularly, betwixt the volcano and us.

Growth here is slow because of the climate, the 300 inches of annual rainfall, the short summers and the depleted volcanic ash soil.
I am 70 years old, my darling wife considerably younger….we both want to see our plantings grow to significance within our lifetime…
Thus my request for access to your wonderful fish fertilizer.

Respectfully
M.

Little is known and less is appreciated about the geographic, strategic and political significance of the Spratley and Paracel Islands situated midway across the South China Sea.

Disputed historically for ownership by Malaysia, Vietnam the Phillipines and China, amongst others, the islands are situated strategically across the major commercial sea lanes of the region and atop an ocean of vast, submarine deposits of untapped fossil oil.

China has used her muscle to occupy and claim these islands, together with unspecified, adjacent sea way area. She has claimed them as sovereign territory of the People’s Republic of China. Until this occupation the islands have been largely unpopulated and have had little or no military significance. Recently, however, Chinese constructors have been ruthlessly dredging the surrounding coral reef and building a 3000m long concrete runway for military purposes on the hugely expanded artificial island area created.
Chinese troops, in divisional strength, occupy and defend the new territory.

It is significant that all parties in the region are watching China and gauging her intentions. None less so than the United States Navy who have an aircraft carrier and supporting military vessels, stationed permanently nearby and conduct over flights of the island airspace testing sovereignty and Chinese reaction.
To date reaction has been muted….but this will definitely change.

China is frantically building to be the world’s next superpower, economically, industrially, politically and militarily.
...And, as this development comes to fruition in the very near future, it is inevitable that this distant, remote set of  South China Sea islands shall become the next global hot point of international confrontation.

China and the United States of America will go eyeball to eyeball, bristling with hostility, resolute and immovable, each waiting for the other to blink!

…..and we, the rest of the world, shall, again, tremble in our boots, breathlessly awaiting the outcome.

Marshalg
22 May 2015
AUCKLAND.

Hail the hero’s, too few many
Hail the boy who strikes a blow,
Hail the one who sticks his neck out
Risking life for nought to show.

Countermand the armed offender
Sheild the maiden’s breast from knife,
Bare the heart for chance to take
This brave young soul’s incautious life.

Blow the trumpet’s scarlet fanfare
Wave the flags for all to see
Heroism’s rare exposure...
Praise this man for what he be!



Marshalg
Victoria Park Tunnel
11 January 2011

An ode to hospitality and the magnificence
of New Zealand’s majestic South Island.*


Pale Granite massif plummets down from snowline to Kaikoura coast
Where white waves seeth in ocean rage atop the green of dark abyss,
Below subducts Pacific plate to buckle mountain mantle’s boast
Titanic forces ****** beneath the wheeling flock of sea-tern’s hiss.

Cold winds blow from seaward swell of glaciation far to south
Where blue whales hunt the clouds of krill and ply this ocean’s constant roar
Through icy currents rich and deep resourced from white Antarctic mouth
Whence icebergs blue shall calve and drift, where seeking albatross do soar.

Frosty on this Winter morn, green rolling hills caress my eye
Deep shadows creasing valley clefts, round sunlit pastures highlit, mound.
From coastal dune transitioning to snowy mountain crags on high
The splendour of it all, my friend, entrancing me in sense-surround.

Blown red tussock streams to windward, ripples in concentric waves
Ripples in the mountain’s flank surmounting to the alpine pass.
Bastion of high country shepherd, striding forth with dog he braves,
The loneliness of isolate in isolation’s clawing grasp.

Tempest in the black beech forest thrashing leafage falls like rain
Rain in sheets cascades from clifftops, waterfalls in grand parade.
Hellish clouds embrace the fiords in hellish lightening flash refrain
Fiordland in majestic style in vaulting might of storm’s charade.

Grey light in the estuary, reflections in still water stand
Of fishing boats at wharfage in a timeless moment’s instant gaze,
Riverton in midday mode as fisherman’s coarse calloused hand
Prepares to launch beyond the spit to brave the sea, to snare the crays.

Comfort in a welcome smile, welcome in a warming fire
Luxury in the steaming sting of shower water piping hot.
Blue cod baked so perfectly with pinot noir to my desire
The sanctuary of “Land’s End”, quaintly, the very best New Zealand’s got.

Marshalg
“Foxglove”, Taranaki
25 June 2015

*“Land’s End”… An exquisite find, a very English bed and breakfast hotel located, remotely, at the very tip of southern lands end at Bluff.
A delightful discovery to complement, perfectly, the utter charm and grandeur of New Zealand’s wonderland....
The magnificent South Island.

M.

Q: Doctor, I've heard that cardiovascular exercise can prolong life. Is this true?
A: Heart only good for so many beats, and that it... Don't waste on exercise. Everything wear out eventually. Speeding up heart not make you live longer; it like saying you extend life of car by driving faster. Want to live longer? Take nap.

Q: Should I reduce my alcohol intake? ...
A: Oh no. Wine made from fruit. Fruit very good. Brandy distilled wine, that mean they take water out of fruity bit so you get even more of goodness that way. Beer also made of grain. Grain good too. Bottom up!

Q: What are some of the advantages of participating in a regular exercise program?
A: Can't think of one, sorry. My philosophy: No pain...good!

Q: Aren't fried foods bad for you?
A: YOU NOT LISTENING! Food fried in vegetable oil. How getting more vegetable be bad?

Q: Is chocolate bad for me?
A: You crazy?!? HEL-LO-O!! Cocoa bean! Another vegetable! It best feel-good food around!

Q: Is swimming good for your figure?
A: If swimming good for figure, explain whale to me.

Q: Is getting in shape important for my lifestyle?
A: Hey! 'Round' is shape!

Well... I hope this has cleared up any misconceptions you may have had about food and diets.

And remember:

Life should NOT be a journey to the grave with the intention of arriving safely in an attractive and well-preserved body, but rather to skid in sideways - Chardonnay in one hand - chocolate in the other - body thoroughly used up, totally worn out and screaming "WOO-HOO, what a ride!!"

AND......

For those of you who watch what you eat, here's the final word on nutrition and health. It's a relief to know the truth after all those conflicting nutritional studies.

1. The Japanese eat very little fat and suffer fewer heart attacks than Brits.
2. The Mexicans eat a lot of fat and suffer fewer heart attacks than Brits.
3. The Chinese drink very little red wine and suffer fewer heart attacks than Brits.
4. The Italians drink a lot of red wine and suffer fewer heart attacks than Brits.
5. The Germans drink a lot of beer and eat lots of sausages and fats and suffer fewer heart attacks than Brits.

CONCLUSION: Eat and drink what you like. Speaking English is apparently what kills you.


Concocted (for a sort of reconciliation)   ...for our weekly fatty club weigh in.

Ha!
M.

I’ve watched the western coast decline in pounding surf and howling gale
I’ve noticed how the rising tides encroach, to day by day impale,
The crumbling cliffs, the drifting sand, the ever creeping surging sea,
The violence of increasing storms…. and how it all impacts on me.

The polar ice in melting sheets cascades into high warming seas
Islands in Pacific sun now inundate with cruel ease.
Swathes of forest in Brazil encroached by axe and palm oil gain
Climatic balance counteracts to guarantee tomorrows pain.

The ocean strewn with plastic waste, choked in tides of human ****
Churning chimneys bellow forth across the blue globe, poisoning it.
Coal’s contaminants are burning holes across the crystal sky
And leaking nuclear waste contributes now… to killing you and I.

Wealth and politicians howl abuse at they who caution loud
Climate change, they disavow, is but a ploy to woo the crowd,
“**** the future for the now” is the mantra held by they
Who wield the club to rule the roost and pocket spoils themselves….today!

Overwealmed by monstrous change, management relinquish charge,
Service and supply collapse with climatic refugee collage.
Hurricane and wildfire spread in league with rising seas
Of course the leaders wring their hands and call on God to please, .....appease?

A vision of this shrunken earth with coastlines vastly higher now
With cities drowned, Atlantis like, where millions, dispossessed, do prowl,
Where law and order, gone, is now replaced by desperate **** and take,
Where the rich and famous bastion arms behind their futile walls of  hate.

Ask not for whom the bell tolls...It tolls for thee
M.
30 July 2019
New Zealand

Is it really any wonder
That we court the God of war ?
When a man offends in innocence
With imprudent comments poor,
When the slightest altercation
Leads to seeking of red blood,
And grudges borne with vehemence
Paste protagonists with mud.

Why is it that we tip toe
Through the fragileness of life ?
How is it that you rage
When he glances at your wife ?
What generates the jealousy
Of competitive bright flame
And activates the trigger
In the deadly baiting game ?

Why should we seek redemption
When the way is set in stone,
When antagonistic temperament
Is the customary way home,
When the flare of angry attitude
Leads the bearer to abyss
And inevitable conflict
Throws all reasoned thought amiss ?.

Reflect on how protracted
Is the winding road to love,
How long to place the building blocks
Of friendships’ hand in glove,
How gradual the process
Of steady cultivating trust
To the wondrous actuality
Of a brother bond that must.

Why does the God of war surmount
Mans best and dearest quest
To find a peace and harmony
Despite discords’ very best,
To live his days in certitude
Sidestepping risk of harm
To work toward tomorrows’ dawn,
And evening’s soothing charm.

Shatter prides absurdity
To dare to breach the norm,
To reach aloft for courage
And scale the unknown’s form.
To rail against mans’ enmity
To flail against his foe
To conquer human natures‘ worst
This beast of war must go!

Marshalg
Victoria Park Tunnel
21 June 2010

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

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.

I see a massive, distant land
Of rolling plains of sage and grass,
Of forest covered coastal range
Huge waterfalls and lakes of glass.
I see the distant mountains blue
Through haze I feel this strong allure,
Where unknown shores are lapped by waves,
Where bubbled mountain brooks flow pure.
I see patchwork farming sprawl
Across this landscape, mile by mile
Where evidenced horizon's curve
Brings to my mind amazement's smile.
I feel the massive hand of man
In latticed freeways everywhere
Where citadels of towered glass
Bring patriotic pride to bear.
I feel the spirit of this land
From distant place I feel the draw
Of magnetism's warming hand
Which leads me to it's wondrous shore.
Anticipation's fluttered heart
Now beats within excitement's breast
So soon to tread that distant soil
So soon to realize lifelong quest.
America shall be my friend
Shall be the bearer of my days
Shall lead my adolescent hand
To show me where the wonder lays.

I see this massive, distant land,
I sense those distant mountains blue,
I feel the magic of allure
For soon I shall be there with you.

Marshalg
Auckland NZ.
5 July 2013

Precipitant of an evening fog
To coalesce in drops of dew,
Upon green blades of crystal grass
Which mirror shards of love to you.
Shards of love in shades of grey
In opalescent light that falls,
As one with tears of misted rain
To soft caress thy hallowed halls.
M.

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

It is a slow day in a little Greek Village. The rain is beating down and the streets are deserted. Times are tough, everybody is in debt, and everybody lives on credit. On this particular day a rich German tourist is driving through the village, stops at the local hotel and lays a €100 note on the desk, telling the hotel owner he wants to inspect the rooms upstairs in order to pick one to spend the night. The owner gives him some keys and, as soon as the visitor has walked upstairs, the hotelier grabs the €100 note and runs next door to pay his debt to the butcher. The butcher takes the €100 note and runs down the street to repay his debt to the pig farmer. The pig farmer takes the €100 note and heads off to pay his bill at the supplier of feed and fuel. The guy at the Farmers' Co-op takes the €100 note and runs to pay his drinks bill at the taverna. The publican slips the money along to the local ******* drinking at the bar, who has also been facing hard times and has had to offer him "services" on credit. The ****** then rushes to the hotel and pays off her room bill to the hotel owner with the €100 note. The hotel proprietor then places the €100 note back on the counter so the rich traveller will not suspect anything. At that moment the traveller comes down the stairs, picks up the €100 note, states that the rooms are not satisfactory, pockets the money, and leaves town. No one produced anything. No one earned anything. However, the whole village is now out of debt and looking to the future with a lot more optimism. And that, Ladies and Gentlemen, is how the bailout package works.


Wonderful article passed on to me by an anonymous author

Marshalg
Victoria Park Tunnel
6 march 2012

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

What do you see nurses? . . .. . .What do you see?
What are you thinking .. . when you're looking at me?
A cranky old man, . . . . . .not very wise,
Uncertain of habit .. . . . . . . .. with faraway eyes?
Who dribbles his food .. . ... . . and makes no reply.
When you say in a loud voice . .'I do wish you'd try!'
Who seems not to notice . . .the things that you do.
And forever is losing . . . . . .. . . A sock or shoe?
Who, resisting or not . . . ... lets you do as you will,
With bathing and feeding . . . .The long day to fill?
Is that what you're thinking?. .Is that what you see?
Then open your eyes, nurse .you're not looking at me.
I'll tell you who I am . . . . .. As I sit here so still,
As I do at your bidding, .. . . . as I eat at your will.
I'm a small child of Ten . .with a father and mother,
Brothers and sisters .. . . .. . who love one another
A young boy of Sixteen . . . .. with wings on his feet
Dreaming that soon now . . .. . . a lover he'll meet.
A groom soon at Twenty . . . ..my heart gives a leap.
Remembering, the vows .. .. .that I promised to keep.
At Twenty-Five, now . . . . .I have young of my own.
Who need me to guide . . . And a secure happy home.
A man of Thirty . .. . . . . My young now grown fast,
Bound to each other . . .. With ties that should last.
At Forty, my young sons .. .have grown and are gone,
But my woman is beside me . . to see I don't mourn.
At Fifty, once more, .. ...Babies play 'round my knee,
Again, we know children . . . . My loved one and me.
Dark days are upon me . . . . My wife is now dead.
I look at the future ... . . . . I shudder with dread.
For my young are all rearing .. . . young of their own.
And I think of the years . . . And the love that I've known.
I'm now an old man . . . . . . .. and nature is cruel.
It's jest to make old age . . . . . . . look like a fool.
The body, it crumbles .. .. . grace and vigour, depart.
There is now a stone . . . where I once had a heart.
But inside this old carcass . A young man still dwells,
And now and again . . . . . my battered heart swells
I remember the joys . . . . .. . I remember the pain.
And I'm loving and living . . . . . . . life over again.
I think of the years, all too few . . .. gone too fast.
And accept the stark fact . . . that nothing can last.
So open your eyes, people .. . . . .. . . open and see.
Not a cranky old man .
Look closer . . . . see .. .. . .. .... . ME!!

Remember this poem when you next meet an older person who you might brush aside without looking at the young soul within. We will all, one day, be there, too!

But wouldst thou child, defy thee time,
Wouldst thou cheat this man his way?
Wouldst thou rob his moments' flame
To purge thy loss... to dim his day?
Wouldst thou seek to wrong his right
To pacify the hurt you feel..
indemnify the magic spun
Within his message... you now steal?
M
16 June 2016

I laid my hand on soft white skin,
Curled my toes around your shin
And smiled a smile in secret dark...
Incredible how my fortunes park,
In such a place, at such a time
When all is so sublime....sublime.

So tender as you softly snore
Into my ear, so near, no more
The tensions of an earthly day.
With you so near, it's all OK.

In the big soft bed @ Pukehana Paradise.
(on a sleep in Sunday morning)
9 June 2013

Image mirrored on the water
Living creatures slide below,
Oblivious to light refraction
Blinded to reflection's show.

Patterns shimmer in the ripples
Light is dancing through the flow,
Images in moving water
Colors merge and visuals grow.

Sunshine sparkles off the wavelets
Glistening as do pearls on ink,
Shimmering of morning breeze
Cause brittle leaves to fall and sink.

A stillness in the afternoon
The summer air hangs hot and low
Rich golden tones of setting sun
Reflection's bronze striation's glow.

Coolness of the night descending
Myriad's' of stars appear,
Ribboned light of starlight blending
Through the surge of wavelets near.

Vastness in the dead of night
Across the ocean's heaving dance,
Moonlight showers shards of light
To silver water's wide expanse.

Marshalg
@theBach
Mangere Bridge
1 November 2009

Poets issue from the heart
There's nothing to be said
For those who write in words of spite
To leave their truths for dead.
So really....Poetry is simply
A camera for the mind
Where one expresses sentiment
The heart won't leave behind.
And...Release is felt
By he who writes
Of ardour of the soul,
As though the act of penning words
Disgorges passion's goal.
But...The beauty felt
In handing forth
The gemstones of your mind
Attains it's goal when only read
By they who seek to find.
And in fact...The beauty felt
In sitting down
To read old tomes of mine
Delivers pleasure in revisiting
My best snapshots of time.

So friends, Poets
Please feel at ease
For what you seek to do
Is simply make this world a better place
And for that... I THANK YOU.

Marshalg
@the Pukehana Paradise, NZ.
Sunday 10:21am, 24 march 2013

Why do we strive to be effete
If the sum of all is fear?
Fear that they shall rob us blind
Of all kept near and dear.
Why then do we strut and preen
When fortune smiles our way?
For the dire sum of equals scream
That envy rules the day.

What seeks the strata here
But to keep the fools contained?
For the eventual sum is the end of a gun
And a simmering hate, retained.
Human nature comes and goes
But one rule reigns supreme
That rich is right and poor is wrong
With nada in between.

God may intervene here
The good Disciples say
But internecine battle
Determines Faith has seen its’ day.

So what’s around the corner
In mankind’s vicious romp
But visceral disenchantment
Singing vengeance for the mob?
Or  a mass incarceration
With holocaust entombed???

With either joust…. Just futile
For humanity is doomed.

M.
29 November 2018

A stranger in a coffee shopOne never knows the types who stopTo sip the ancient brewTo sit and launch a little chatincurrs a risk that leaves one atthe mercy of a stranger. Conversations open up,a world of views, life does eruptin complex tangents, mixed and freea stimulant.. thoughts symphony I met her there quite old, yet brighta living actress, uncontrite,accepting fate with earthy trim,enjoying life’s relentless whim. She told her tales of joy and woeI loved it. When I left to goI wondered if she realised thenthat in this man she’d found a friend.Marshalg / Auckland / 1969

All nations beat their own drum.

The US, China, Britain, Russia, Europe, Israel, India, Turkey, Pakistan, Syria, France, Germany and a whole host of others, have been beating their own drum in deafening cacophony since realisation dawned of their individual sovereign potentiality.

Every nation is manouvering for their own best self interest…and in this volatile environment of the Middle east plus the factor of the complete savagery and unpredictability of the rampaging ISIS Calithate….any outcome, anything is now possible.

Iran is the meat in the sandwich.

She squirms this way and that, buying favour here sacrificing loyalties there, switching, adjusting. Friends become enemies, enemies become friends at the drop of a hat. Writhing within herself attempting to find the path to the future in an incredibly difficult minefield of pressure from the onslaught from the East and the West….A crushing miasma of pressure from friend and foe alike.

Who can say which way she will jump? The only sane predictability is that Iran will leap to her own salvation, her own survival….and to Hell with the rest of the barging, braying self-obsessed world.

Marshalg 23 July 2015

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





Marshalg
Pukehana Paradise
Epsom
14 January 2013

© 2013 Marshal Gebbie

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.

Wipe that teardrop from your cheek
Smooth the worries from your brow,
Go buy yourself that pretty frock
'Cos the Court Injunction's come through now.
All the hassle, all the fight
Evaporates and that's a fact.....
He gets to toss and turn tonight
For you're the cream that got the cat!

You turned it all around my pretty lady,
You saved the savage beating for the end.
You played a little ploy that emulated joy
But in fact it was a trap to make him bend.
And bend he did, my pretty, Oh how he did bend,
When the object of the exercise was clear,
He exposed his top ace card with unfortunate disregard
To resultant amputation's near and dear.
Now I'm not saying you are cruel little lady
I'm not saying you are anything but fair,
But the savageness of swipe does seem just a little trite
For he no longer brags about, what isn't there.

Moral of the story is simple, sweet and true
It's as plain as the nose upon your face,
If you're going to play about keep your trouser firmly out
Of the razor swiping range of lady space.


*As a poem this reads terribly...but it was an absolute giggle to create!
M.

The ancient one thrusts down his staff
Determining the claim
That most good men throughout their time
Will not achieve their aim.
One in ten shall hit the mark
Just one in ten will score,
The rest, shall by the wayside fall,
To some degree or more.

One in ten shall realise
The prize their heart’s desire
To have the wherewithal to that,
to which they all aspire.
One in ten shall strive to make
That peak to which they climb
But most will reach a compromise
And rationalise their time.

The way to reach your aim in life
The ancients do agree
Is to practice all the things you preach
And be what, you want to be.
Carve deflections from your day,
Achieve the plans you set
And greet success with brother love
... Hail fellow man well met!

Wear promise as humility
Be humble in your praise,
Give credit to the lesser man
Who strives to meet his days
And when the crown of certainty
Ascends upon your head,
Smile the smile of modesty
To shade your gold crown red.


Marshalg
@ the coalface
Victoria Park Tunnel
14 December 2010

Down her cheek there rolls a tear
Lowered eyes reflect the fear
She feels that others see the pain
She tries to hide to mask the shame.

Shame of what she has become
Despite her efforts to succumb
To good intentioned, sound advice
Delivered at preposterous price.

Shame at how the mind deplores
Those temperamental personal flaws,
Of slights inferred and insults hurled
At friend and foe with flag unfurled.

Friend and foe who tried to help,
Who lowered guard  to feel the welt
Of verbal horsewhip to the jowl,
To violently recoil with howl.

Betrayal in its basest form
All sympathetic help withdrawn.
She furiously stands distraught
In isolation’s cold white thought.

Down her cheek there rolls a tear
Of distain for the eyes that jeer,
Direction of the darts of blame
From whence no help will come again.

Marshalg
Collateral damage
4 February 2012