Friday prayers. They are us. Tears rolling down. Flag half mast. Looking in the mirror. What we want to see, reversed. This is New Zealand. That hate is here. It hurts. The diagnosis is in. A pus ridden sore. Time to cut it out. Complicit to ignore. Yes. This is New Zealand. …
Month: March 2019
The Approaching Storm
Above a flat nor-west sea the rolled cloud sidles over the horizon It hovers as on strings Then swings, dark – one end on a far spit, the other reaching for land The cattle turn before its flailing arms
Crease
Seagull white specks on the outfield green. Waiting for the over to be over again. White thigh. Crimson streak. Ball’s red lipstick smear. White knee. Verdant graze. Turf’s green blush to wear. White picket legs run end to end. Splintering wickets they stand to defend. Gathers himself. On toes. Heels rise. Leans…
A Farmer Returns
Even now, as his sun sets, he is called back to the land He looks on shaky sticks at the ridges and swales, the rows of pines breaking the wind It is too much to go near the house, or the shed where he worked the shears and dug hooks into tight-pressed bales The pain…
E tu Brute
Beware the ides of March E tu Brute Caesar stabbed by friends not foe 28 year old random male blasted his way into history on this day! When tithes must be given Hate crime or attention seeking? Beware the ides of March E tu Brute Tragedy at the hands of one with a gun a…
scoria flower muse
scoria flower muse: 36 views near & far of rangitoto inspired by Hokusai’s ’36 Views of Fuji’ series of woodcuts I. through the rain a shadow of itself standing off-shore rangitoto somewhere else in sun II. that slow inhale to the peak held double exhale to the sea III. rain cloud lifted neat along its…
The Stream
Trickle down the wind wire droplet tumbling and rolling condensation admired in theory residue of resin a point made well-intentioned but perceived as a broken glass eye bounces on concrete grinding a path from sorry to near He enters and she departs the eternal stage of conflicts judged by insolence torn from the very heart…
Palettes
Wanting to paint your pain away… Searching for the right palette of colours Your rainbow… it flickers softly then flames into fireworks… creating magic in our souls wanting to paint your pain away… by absorbing it with my own palette of colours
A Tribute to Jason
We are the uncited Yet our hand moves in time with others… We are the unseen Yet we leave behind… signs!!! We are the unnoticed unless you lift your eyes Listen intently Sighs. Who are we? We are the ghost writers in the sky… The whistlers The only voices left some days… of our times…
spill
i lie in the room amphetamized, wild & no-one to talk to who knows what i do in those cockroached hours plucking my strings like i’m in love or something & i sing so fine when i think you’re listening The flip side is ———I don’t know it yet but i’m…