Melancholia!
there's magic in the word
like 'male-genitalia',
each syllable unslurred

and the term itself
what images it conjures!
as a mischievous elf
intent on misadventures

with a black, sticky net
'gainst crimson sunset
with sad secrets scary
to capture the unwary

on his face a grin
as he bows to you low,
"howdy, please step right in"
and oblivious, you go.

and then you are caught
as he draws the string tight
as you struggle for naught
as the day becomes night

as all outside becomes blurred
all syllables slurred
everything of one colour,
a dark, deathlike pallor

and then there's the sinking
as you can't stop the thinking
like repetitive gramophone
with monotonous undertone
over and over
it draws you in further,

to no appetite
complete lack of enjoyment,
to no respite
through own self-employment

feeling culpable
for nothing at all,
feel unlovable
as you stare at blank wall.

Melancholia.
What a beautiful word.

almighty father, almighty king,
heavens and earth are your thing
but here's the thing
hear me King

your children have well and truly messed up

you can hazard a guess
the world's a mess

as to why
well, there's a tongue-tie
i mean where do i start
there aint no flowchart
well, not for this!

drought and fires are the norm
let's not forget cyclone and storm
the unrelenting hurricanes
monsoon floods and murderous rains

then you've got the violence
ok, there's always been that
aye, and the mass riots
but not the rat-a-tat-tat
weapons to wreak world destruction
smallest child needs no introduction
every day 'nother calamity
natural and man-induced
men and women have lost their sanity
world's evil's come in to roost

so do we need help or what?

Fickle the temperament
Fickle the change
In the far South land
Where wild West winds rage.
One minute quiescence
The next falling snow
Then hot melting asphalt
Burning toes as you go.
Fickle the changes
Best that you plan
For four seasons per day
As well as you can.

Easterly is blowing hard
Raking over land
Flattening the Western waves
As only East wind can,
Shoreline denuded
Black rock exposed
Sea foam extruded
On windlanes, imposed.
Kinda feels unnatural,
Kinda feels unreal,
Suspect the **** solstice
Encroaches to steal.

Late sun’s reflection
Mirrored off sea
From elevated viewpoint’s
Glare blinding me
Brass hard refraction
Now blacking out light
Reminded lock chickens
Securely for night.
For East turns to South East
Surmounting to gale,
Destruction of forestry’s
Shredding with hail.

Such are the ways
Of this far South land
Where climatic moods
Impose, as they can.
Where the flavors extreme
Sweep enticement aside
As the promise of youth
Swops a hag for a bride.
Such are the ways
Of this ****** South land
Where you savor each moment
Indeed, whilst you can.

M.
11 August 2022
Mid winter New Zealand.