Well my old Mate,
The sands of time have slipped between our fingers, you and I are not the spry young things we used to be. Gone are the expansive days of limitless horizons, gone are the great aspirations.
We live now in a time of quiet satisfaction. We have lived our lives as best we can. We have our achievements and our failures, our moments of despair and delight, the highs and the lows of a lifetime well spent.
What magnificent moments we have had... both of us! Moments of love and triumph, moments of roaring laughter, occasions where we have both felt... that our cup does indeed.. overfloweth.
We have watched our children grow from helpless little bubbles to striving creative people with urgencies and points of view and imperitives.
We have both found partners who have shared the pain and the hardship, the joys and the agonies. We are the lucky ones friend.. these women are the rock of our lives without them we would be substantially less.
Despite the fact that we have rarely seen each other since the ****** days, I want you to know that I have always regarded you as a brother.  Something quite indefinable there, but special.. you will always be my brother.

Speaking of brothers.. ****** old Johnson has married himself a young Chinese lady, they are living quite happily in southern China, used to be Changsha but I think now elsewhere..
He is coming back to New Zealand next year.. about March.. which is very timely because then we will be able to accommodate them in our new rural retreat in Taranaki.
Janet and I have built a lovely little donga atop a high hill overlooking the magnificent green, South Taranaki foothills and the wide blue Tasman sea.
The place is about 50% built right now. In a few days Janet & I will travel down with a truckload of stuff and spend the summer break and Christmas working our bums off on the property.
We camp out under a sky full of the most brilliant stars.. more than I have ever seen before. Every morning we awake to the glorious dawn chorus of the native birds in the forest around us.
We have two particularly curious, enormous wood pigeons who follow us around all day from job to job and a chorus of beautiful, irridescent tuis who entertain us with their song and antics flitting between the flowering tree fuschias.
This place is paradise.
We will have two guest bedrooms... so sometime, in the not too distant future, I want you and Suze to take a little break.

Boaz is returning from New Mexico for Christmas, Solomon is driving him down country on Christmas eve so we will all be together with Grandpa Bell, Janet’s dad, for the festivities. I can’t wait!
Have bought Janet a beautiful oil painting by a local artist.. Of geraniums in a rust red ***.. and a glorious light emanates from it. Will be just the thing for the wall in the new kitchen.
That’s it!

Love to you and Suzie and all the tribe.
Have one hellava good Christmas mate
Luv M

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

Marshalg
Mangere Bridge
18 December 2010

Matriarch's
Patriarch's
Duo chalices
Goblet palace's
No danger
No fear of strangers
Hush agápi̱
Kiss mine countenance
Parade me in innocence
Bathe me in labyrinth
Daze me in gelid bliss
I'm right here
Please dont miss
Mine soul connecting to thy own
Smother me with thy perfume
Lock me in thy dungeon
Solitary room
Blindfold me in tulle
Handcuff me in beau
Scratch me to excitement
Nibble gentle to enticement
As Spain shalt I find out
How the Sol shalt rise and drop
Make mine heart flop
Taketh me in
Forgive me with thy mercy
Forgive me of sins
For I'm not perfect amour'
Though I'll write these scripture's day by day
Wherein I'll showeth the world
For thee I do display
Im sorry if not good enough
But tis mine own way
To giveth the world a cherub
Wherein tomorrow's a better day!!!

Today
Is a wonderful day
Was horrible and heart-wrenching before...
But now
A calm
Cool
Cherub peace!!!!
Hast knocked at mine door.....
As tis I  know I haveth much greatfullness for mine one life....
Soon to shareth hopefully one day with a queen
And that queen
To call mine beloved wife!!!
Though Maby just hopeful wishing now
Tis
All I canst do is try
To be uplifted back to the cumulus town!!!!

I graduated fresh and ****** from my mother's womb,
a gift, greater than any other.
My sister before me too.
My brother after me was swallowed up by Him
mere hours after drawing his last breath his first.
Behold:
This is my unambiguous declaration against
this universal truth: my unparalleled defense
of the dignity of man
against the temperature-empty, relentlessly inhuman
universe unconcerned with these ventures
which characterize knowing it

not. For one day I shall call
my teachers by their first names. One day
they shall call me doctor. This is the totem
declaring the worth of the living and the dead,
my sister and my brother: myself. The totem
of the disenfranchised and  barely and disabled
and black. Even also less including I guess
the enriched the cup overfloweth and mighty
and colourless. Our skin and bones and graves
and blood and ****** and lust and chest and
******* and being and nothing and isness is

beautiful

regardless of everything. It is mine.
It is yours. It is yours.

Votre.

I am the dog, collared and chained,
deemed useless and left alone.
I am the nail in the wall left unhammered, jutting to snag at your sleeve.
I am the hole in your line through which all of your energy will be filtered or lost.
I am heavy with meaning and weightless with meaning and grounded in someone else's reality.
I am that reality, while my own remains silent and hidden and threatening.
I am a threat to some, no one to someone, and everything to one.
I am the card in play, always, even
when you leave the table and
I will be there when you get back.
Also, I am the deck and few cards are missing.
I am the mirror in which you might one day see yourself and startle your eyes into misrecognition.
I am the cup that overfloweth,
and the child guilty for wanting.
I am the season which seems like it will never let up.
I am the sun casting rays of golden relief on the faces of many lonely strangers.
I am the forgotten sun, just as well.
I am the ruin of those who came here before me and the stain they left on the white fabric of time.
I am the fabric, loose and changing
in the winds of perpetuity.
I am a glass sphere in the midst of a landscape, puzzling and divine and uncanny alike.
I am a door left unopened.
I am a line with no end and a point with no beginning and I will let it be known that I am here seeking all.

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

We search seas for rough
cleansing, but
some times, some new
some old,
we search for her to lap away
the warmth in our sun-born flesh,
to ease away the white-hot-heat and frenzy,
till her cold wet fatigue may kiss us full
of calm, of passivity, of loftiness, of sea-foam docility
and to chill our temperment some.
Sip her blessings, child,
but I warn you, her cup overfloweth
and in your wanting,
your pining doubt,
an open mouth spells a ominous quiet,
and a hushed sigh of grief--
for the sea mourns your passing--
or rather, the passing of the warmth
she grasped too quickly at
when your heavy head dipped too low
too weakly, and bright eyes closed cold
and meekly.

These are mine last scribings poetic reader,
For here I'm teetered between the dead and hopeless romance,
Thy hopeless romance I hath not found on this journey here,
This place you call earth!!!
For I will be Rebirthed,
Not cursed ,
I'll have wings now you know!!!!
Ill be in a show with a million opera status angels!!!
Where the love overfloweth, and thine cup won't runneth dry!!!!

These are mine goodbyes poetic reader of mine words!!!

PS: don't forget to love one another,
For love is the gift god gave us!!
Don't destroy it as thou doeth to thy selves!!!
Brother,
Treat your sister with compassion,
Sister giveth all time rations to mother and dad!!!
Be grateful for thy things you still have,

As for me ,
Well,

Im off to that great gig in the sky,
Wherein hopeless romance wilt be none more!!!!
But all will love me for me,
And seek me out as well!!!

That's the greatest tale!!!

Write prophecies with thine tounge oh prophetic poetics!!!!!

For fly now I will....

i'm trying my best to be happy
but my best is not enough
i look down on my sorrows
they overfloweth from my cup

I’m so confused about this world.
In my head, it’s burning with the invisible flames and the matters of concern isn’t so beneficial to the earth who has formed a pact with humanity, in which we humbly don’t deserve.
We churn the molten lava that scorches the dirt.
The rivers that overfloweth is the cleansing of our actions that have negative impact on the land so the watery mountains climb above our heads and imposes it’s own sanctions.
The once cooling wind became a scythe of disaster and it blows in a twirling direction because we’ve failed the moral inspection, the natural laws we have broken and described it as progressive evolution but we are primitive beings that are naive.
We closed our eyes for a long time.
We see but we are blind.
Imprisoned on the outside because the inside is not a thing we try to adjust.
We combust, reactive to the moments that are insignificant.
Practicing soulless desires to confide in to complete our attire but we are forever naked.
Forever afraid that the psyche is too strong but who controls it all?
Is it God?
Is there such a thing to call?
It is beneath you, above you, it is all.
Remember.

And so my cup overfloweth, and it was like nothing I'd been filled with before.

And so dandelions blew away in my lungs, and so did sunshine flood my body.

And so did the heavens embrace the earth in a cloud of lense flares, as that we too could feel the saturation of paradise?

Or did my unspeaking mind ascend and float towards the sky, lifting me slightly with it as I walk, so I weigh just slightly less, and feel just slightly lighter.

And so life came to resolution,
And after ****** and resolve, left a touching afterword,
But I got to continue living,
And so now I feel complete in this world.

And so fears are behind me,
Faced and overcome and overjoyed,
And so the dread has left me with only the thrill remaining,
And so I live in worry no more.

And so life has become,
And so now it is life that I'm living,
And now I see the world in color infront of me, but really I've found the earth anew.

And so dewdrops and honey and oats and journals and music on guitar and candles and wooden carvings and stars and catnaps in the sun and shade at the beach and rivers on mountains and fire in dim lights and gifts and grey lakes and Rain,
Pouring, gliding, spitting, beating, heavy, gentle, rain.
I long to be the rain diving through the air arms outstretched, hair soaked, exillerated, perfectly at peace, free.

And so I am.
I am because I want it and I feel it, and I will never let go of it.
Because I want to keep filling my cup with the rainwater log fire wind and heart,
And so it does,
And so my cup overfloweth.

staring down stars
seeking signs inside the fire
I can't tell the color of my own eyes
anymore

just the bright whites
staring back into mine
flitting above the smile
that I struggle to give

where, who, what, when

why.

the Q’s transfuse into
plasmatic stew on spun plate
overfloweth

af.

seriously, the W’s
bend me over without even
a hello

I do not think he would
begrudge a wine tinted
smudge on the page
a blush of the blushest blush
akin to the blood of life
the cup that is filled and overfloweth
blood into wine
the Book's little innuendos
coyly writ for the quiet amusement
of chastened monks
Christ what a waste
not the man mind you
the Word
the words
lost in the compounded
ignorance of millenia
I prefer them stained red
honest on back-lit pages
Who
after all
could begrudge honesty
History it seems