On your birthday, today
On your birthday, today, there is time to reflect On the essence of our intimacy, From a beginning in the spring-tide of youth To an afterward secured in the distant mist, And for what
Colours in lamplight
Colours in lamplight are previews, Scarcely eschewed as wave-length turbulence Tuned to closeness and friendship. Colours in firelight are skin-warmed Glowings, harbouring contentment, Revealing intuitive insight. Colours in moonlight are barely shown Shy smiles
To keep the ambience alive
When you thanked me for the day I felt ashamed, I couldn’t say it wasn’t much because it was for you, I had enjoyed it too although it was another day Like any other
Jack's Legacy
The critic gushed and said, “Just like Jack, So raw, I never thought to see another writer just Like Kerouac!” Kerouac, who the fuck is he? A writer? Christ, that’s a laugh, compare me
Dead thoughts of corpses
The symbols that we use are T shirts of the dead Thoughts of corpses without heads, a rictus Without sound – open-mouthed, empty, unbound. And if you ever write those clichés which incite My
Carbonara eyes
Nicky said I couldn’t write, she’s got a charming Sense of social etiquette – given she’s a bitch (the canine sort, can’t spell for shit or even write A word) but then she has
Dreams of better days
At break of day we rested, the contest of our wills Declined to wrest the peace away and where The foreign powers held sway a quiet was in abundance; A ghostly calm entranced the
The Waipakihi
Access Road Fifteen they named it This anonymous road to the Waipakihi Where its brawling water becomes Tongariro. A moment’s journey across a horizon Anchored in haze-ridden Taupomoana Distanced, but jewelled in my thoughts.
Lethargy of leaden wings
I hadn’t had the ‘flu in ages, avoided all those awful places Fraught of gritty eyes and splitting heads, patrons ringed In lethargy of leaden wings, deafened by the roaring chills And still-life flushes,
Ready to step into life
This morning, coffee in hand, standing at the kitchen Window thinking of things that need to be done I contemplated the post with a lean at the front gate Which I should right one
A few kind words
A few kind words, what can be bought with that? In essence just a clique of tidy prose, A verb, a noun, perhaps an adjectival phrase Offered in the form of venal praise –
The last excuse
What is left now that we’ve used the last excuse, What is left to justify excess. The rhetoric at best Was very thin when things began, but to suggest We must remain and play
Tickets to the game
I asked my Dad about the War when I was very young, He said it happened a long, long time ago And a long, long way away, he seemed a little vague On the
Olmecs rule
The news is out, down Veracruz they found the evidence, Olmecs had the written word 400 years before Sumerians. A Chinese claim predates all that, but let it rest. Examine what it means to
Blame Katrina, or Larry
You may have heard a dumb-ass claim that Katrina, a hurricane, is to blame for current Stress upon our fiscal state, that petrol prices Ate their share but be aware of what the lack