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

Pandering to platitudes am I….
Running riotously adrift
To spice my day with pleasures.
Pleasures caste in portraiture so stark
Of thee my love, of thee.

In curvature of smooth refrain
And delving vortex of unimaginably fine dark fur.
Reclined in attitude of ease…
With mischief dancing about thy porcelain, painted lips.

Oh that I could die with this indelible art?
Slip away to this shrill cacophony of sweet,sensate spree?

M.

Recep Tayip Erdogan though Turkish to the core
Has loathing in his Turkish heart, ferocity and more
For the secular insanity’s of Bashar Al Assad
Determines chaos at his border with warring Syria is bad.
With incursions by the Kurdish to the ISIS foe at hand
And the umbrage taken by the Kurds at Turkey’s open border stand,
Where ISIS can permeate both back and forth at will
Allowing freedom for Jihadists, now, to raid, behead and ****.
Europe visualize this menace at their doorstep as a threat
But Turkey, playing both sides, leaves NATO, now side stepped.
Where our friends become our enemies and enemies our friends.
In this Middle East miasma ..... confusion never ends.

M.
27 June 2015

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.

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.

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.

Dissatisfaction curls the lip, so felt,
Alas we deal with what we’re dealt,
Contradiction screams her song
Alas that she could be so wrong.
Potential oozes from my pores,
(Of course my dear, what’s mine is yours)
Surely there must be a way
To reach beyond my limit’s day?
Limitations frazzled paw
Allows me much… but then no more,
Restricting me to what I’ve got
Within this irritating plot.
Dissatisfaction curls my lip, so felt,
Damnation deals with what I’m dealt!
M.

But to pass from beige to puce to rose
bequeathes a choice, I do suppose,
A choice of whence thy shall or shan't
corral thy name or curse thy can't.
Hold it high or cast it out
Regardless, LET-THY-LOUD-VOICE-SHOUT !
....For he who wears his mantle thin
Forever then, be clad in sin.
M.

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

Intangibly, it cometh and goeth.
Substanceless it slips in transition from one immeasurable instant to the next. Equitable to infinite space, in terms of distance, infinite time is a concept quite alien to the finite human mind. There is no proof of existence, it is a human conception with no sensory component, an illusion and utterly immeasurable in real terms with only a human contrivance to calibrate it....(and poorly at that).
Time is the silken zephyr on which we lay our dreams and aspirations. It is the currency of deep religion and is regarded as the ultimate sword hand of God. Incorruptible and absolute it brooks no favour, seeks no fame. Irreversible in it's cold implacable, unquenchability it merely, unfeelingly.... proceeds.
M.

But what would life be like without these encounters?
The spark of passion ignites that which is supreme in the patina of our days, of our years, of our very being.
It comes and it goes...but in going it hovers in a spangled irridescence just beyond the now and endures in this special place, until the day we die.
M.

While reading an article last night about fathers and sons, memories came flooding back to

the time I took me son out for his first pint.

Off we went to our local pub only two blocks from the cottage.

I got him a Guinness.  He didn't like it, so I drank it.

Then I got him a Kilkenny's, he didn't like that either, so I drank it.

Finally, I thought he might like some Harp Lager?   He didn't.   I drank it.

I thought maybe he'd like whiskey better than beer so we tried a Jameson's, nope!

In desperation, I had him try that rare Redbreast,Ireland's finest.   He wouldn't even smell it.

What could I do but drink it!

By the time I realized he just didn't like to drink, I was so feckin ****-faced I could hardly

push his pram back Home.

That giant wheel of life grinds around us
Sometimes it's sweet or so sour.
A meld of habitual habits
A mixture of ash amidst flour.
Concoction of humour in sadness
Of chuckles in midst of the tears,
Of ingratitudes greatest propensity
In stealing those yesterday years.
I guess there's good in the badness,
I suppose there's light in the dark
But the factor that burns
In the hope my mind yearns
Is that bitterness drowns the remark.

M.

But...Tantric mumbo-jumbo Joe
Issued from a dribbled lip.
Issued from a tortured mind
Which writhes in phraseology to slip.
....slip between the now and then
Slip between the right and wrong,
confused about reaction to
Our capacity to sing your song.
....that eerie tune of deep lament
Lament for what should be, but won't,
For we is but a subterfuge...
Who says it did but knows it don't.

M.

Coronation of a Princess
To elevate a Queen,
To raise aloft a Monarch
Who shall rule to seem as seen,
Who shall treat with due decorum
Her loyal subjects and her Crown
And adjudicate all personal preference,
Severely, not to let them down.
She shall marry into Royalty
Thence to breed a stately brood
Who shall tread the path of unctuousness
Avoiding steps into the rude.
Her decisions shall be just and fair
Her politics unseen
And whilst riding with nobility
Her associations shall be clean.
For she is known now as “Her Majesty”
And as such, she shall remain
Aloof from all conjecture,
And removed from callow fame.
Forever worshipped as our Monarch
And though imprisoned by her scene,
Imperially shall her smile shine bright
When sung….”God Save the Queen”.

God Save the Queen!
M.
27 April 2015

In the shadow of Everest people are dying
Crushed in a chaos embirthed from beneath,
Emerged as destructor of temple and Taos,
Emerged as an innocent killer... bequeathed.
History crumbles as heavens roar mightily
Ghorka is dead in an avalanche of rock,
Beggars and potentates crushed  in the brickfall
Dharahara’s fall leaves men gaping in shock.
Shuddering mountains in avalanche of free fall
Wails of the stricken as quaking defiles,
Gold topped pagodas and statue of ancients,
Sculpture of lions now a rubble in piles.
Khathmandu in the clasp of calamity
Nightmarish forces arisen from deep,
Grasping the earth in their grip of profanity
Monstrously tearing the bedrock from sleep.
A techtonic ****** of Asia by India
Nepal’s Himalayas ****** to the sky,
Inconsequential, this plight of humanity
Nature proceeds as poor Nepalese die.**

M.
ANZAC Day 25 April 2015

I’m phased out to sepia, Pet,
The last cab on the rank,
My good looks and *** a memory, Sweet,
For which, I’ve you to thank.
One day blending through to next
Increasingly a blur,
Dissatisfaction total now
For things ain’t what they were.
Ignored by all and sundry
Quite invisible to they
Who converse in hieroglyphics,
Incomprehensible, I say.
Overtaken by technology
Can’t figure out the phone
Facebook, watch and wallet mishmash
Won’t leave us alone.
Confusion at the pace of things,
It’s all moving far too fast
Queuing up for life
Leaves us, inevitably, last.
But bitterness ain’t with me
For I’ve loved your churlish ways,
Tho we’ve sailed through life on cobblestones
That old sunshine warmed our days.
But now I’m phasing out to sepia, Sweet,
Cos I’m the last cab on the rank
One quick kiss before departure, Pet,
For which..... I’ve you to thank.

M.
Auckland
22 April 2015

Tied to a point of view
Of pedantically avoiding you,
Embraced in retrenched stance
Of beetled brow’s dim elegance,
Inveigled in this shrouded glaze
These hooded eyes avoid your gaze….
But when I chance to glance, your smile,
I’m forced, my love, to reconcile.

M.

A caste of hawks at  a rage of maidens
Led a cete of badgers to a gaggle of geese
And a school of whales brought a shiver of sharks
To a fever of stingrays at fabulous feast.
An absence of waiters in a crackle of crickets
Served a band of brothers a bevy of beer
Then the army of ants in the choir of angels
Left a filth of starlings decidedly queer.
But the clew of worms in the hive of bees
Swapped the bike of wasps for a ghost of gnats
While the raft of otters in the den of iniquity
Turned the loveliness of ladybirds to a river of rats.
Why an array of eels fed a bunch of grapes
To a pod of dolphins…nobody knows
But a disputation of lawyers cawing
Killed your flock of lice in a ****** of crows.*

M.
11 April 2015

Oh, that (SHE), who once aglow
And lithe with youthfulness, would know,
That years must come to take their toll
Drape tiny fractures on the doll
Whose porcelain, once flawless smile
Now framed in tiny lattices, compiled
Of wrinkles, faint to puckered lips,
(to complement the shapely hips),
Which, when worn with grace of knowing years
Dispel all arrogance of tears,
Allowing, (SHE) to strut her style
Confounding raised eyebrows, awhile.
Allowing (SHE) to work her plan
Of adoring this discerning man.

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.

Flashing willow, spinning ball
Four million screaming Kiwis call
You champion of this far flung land
In World Cup Cricket’s greatest stand.

Tomorrow at the MCG
In Australia’s hostile field,
Black shall battle Green and Gold
To seize the Cup, to make them yield.

Flashing willow, spinning ball
The Black caps, as a team, enthrall
With inspirational de je Vue
In self belief, we’re backing you.

Tomorrow at the MCG
In Australia’s hostile field,
Black shall battle Green and Gold
To win the Cup, to watch them yield.

Flashing willow, spinning ball
Humble, proud…none can recall
A better cricket team to hand
To represent this Kiwi land.

Tomorrow at the MCG
Beneath Australia’s hostile sun
Black will hold the trophy high
This Cricket World Cup
SHALL BE WON!

M
Auckland, NZ
28 March2015
Black Caps v Australia,
Melbourne Cricket Ground.

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

Infinite these halls of time
These corridors of vast expanse,
Eternity of Universe
No preamble to the dance.
No start, no pause, no finish line
No courtship in this velvet sky,
Jewelled stars in vastness pass before
This cosmic, ink black curtain high.

Einstein touched, to reconcile
Gravity in quantum thought,
Interpretation’s multiverse
In parallel dimensions sought.
Postulations spectrum bright
In rainbow, cryogenic sky,
Now humankind, in wonder gasp…
Too insignificant to cry.

M.
On the eve of the re-commissioning of the Large Hadron Collider
In man’s effort to prove the existence of parallel dimensions in the actuality of an infinite, everlasting universe.
26 March 2015

Shipless in a foundering sea
Would that this, seem right to me?
Manless in a woman's world
Would, that some prefer, unfurled?
Hapless in a globe unmanned
Would, for they, be that as planned?
Planless in a thought unseen
Would that, this Kingdom's crown... unQueen?
M.

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

Fortune holds
Like a fly on the pane,
Indecent translucence
Like lifeline, ingrained,
With a terrible filth
That seeps from the pores
To assault sensitivities
Imagined scores.

Perfidious thoughts
Scrape across the serene
Leaving bruised aberration
Where none's to be seen,
To leave an impression
Across cold glass
Where sunshine pale
Waits for morning to pass.


Marshalg
@thebach
30 July 2011

She asked me when?...Back then
And then she lied…and cried.
We tried so hard,… so hard it died,
A death so sweet, so sweet… to succor.

Sweet, her feet…and neat, complete
So sweetly neat…those feet.
I ****** her toe…to show and throw
My lusting fire’s desire, entire…to succor.

Though *** she slipped to Rex, perplexed,
Back then, when?...back then
My perplexed friend… when young love’s wend
Would bend to end…and succor.

M.

The mix and match of minds at hand with attitudes diverse
compel me to make comment that some may find adverse,
Some may find a reason to launch to fierce attack
Whilst others choose to spectate sipping beer and sitting back.

It seems we have proponents of a new unsubtle mix
Who breeze in with their verbal fangs and talons fiercely fixed,
Who at the slightest pretext take offence and go to war
Leaving innocence astounded, open mouthed, upon the floor.

Some here  can handle criticism, others clearly can't
And some perceive this helpful and others simply shan't,
But our greatest single asset is this freedom flow of words
where opinions and convictions are divested and diverged,
Where compliments and attitudes should be taken in our stride
And barking, fierce rejoiners must, perhaps... remain outside.

Ruffled feathers agitate but few intend offence
Interpretations differ... but in truth, with common sense,
Accommodation can be made without hot anger's flame
So let's bury the invective and get on with Shakespeare's game.

M.

Some years  ago, there was a Mensa convention in San Francisco .  
Mensa, as you know, is a national organization for people who have an  IQ of 140 or higher.








Several of  the Mensa members went out for lunch at a local cafe.   When  they sat down, one of them discovered that their salt shaker contained  pepper, and their pepper shaker was full of salt.     How could they swap the contents of the two bottles woithout spilling  any, and using only the implements at hand?   Clearly   --  this was a job for Mensa minds.








The group  debated the problem and presented ideas and finally, came up with a  brilliant solution involving a napkin, a straw, and an empty  saucer.






They called  the waitress over, ready to dazzle here with their  solution.






"Ma'am," they  said, "we couldn't help but notice that the pepper shaker contains  salt and the salt shaker  --  "




But before  they could finish,..........

the waitress  interrupted.   "Oh  --  sorry about  that."


She leaned over the table, unscrewed the caps of  both bottles and switched them.








The was dead  silence at the Mensa table.

....and tainted in a plumage of a crinkled, mottled white
Where everything was almost...but actually, not quite.
Where the words appeared as doldrums in a tepid, tepid sea
And shades of green in dullness tried...but never mirrored me.

M

Gentle in these halls of time
Soft images to reminisce,
Soft memories so clandestine
Of ruby, red sweet lips to kiss.
Reminisce within your smile
That incandescent way you had,
The laughter in a bubbling stream
Of light and shadow playing sad.
Softness of your auburn hair
Sparkle in your flashing eyes
Green to turquoise, fathoms deep
Causing me, again, surprise.
Love so fresh, so new, so pure
To overburden such as I
With expectation's cold collapse
That one, so beautiful, did cry.

When you left the singing died
Pastel colour turned to grey,
Deep inside I turned to stone
As reminiscence slid away.

Ruby red, we turned to stone
As reminiscence bled the day.
M.

Emergent through emotion
In a sychophantic way,
Thrilling through my system
In recall of teaching’s fray.
Those years of inspiration
As an aspirant of they…
That concrete mass of youthfulness
Wherein I spent my day.

Each hour of nervous questing,
Each confrontation stored,
Each shred of indignation
When the master plan proved flawed.
Through gyroscopic reason,
Through footless halls of pain,
An exultation’s bright explosion
When that child said... “Please explain?’

And the myriad of starburst
When the sky came crashing down
When, as if, by touch of magic….
Realisation there…profound!
From within that mass of granite-ness
Poured enlightenment as gold
And hot jewels of satisfaction
Flowed within this soul… untold.

M.

Gone is he with flourished brush
Gone to ether, turned to dust,
Left are but his remnant strokes
On canvass old, congealed with must.
Gone the Masters touch in oil
Annointed with his maddened aire,
Wilding eyes of palest blue
Strawberry his touseled hair.
Pointilism's Prince no more
Adorns high Artesanian throne,
Wretchedly we mortals weep
Where giants, once, would boldly roam.
M.

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.

.


There have been many who would criticize my motives
An abundance who would take my case to task,
But of all the souls encountered in my lifetime
Your betrayal friend would likely, be the last.

For throughout my time of living on this planet
Throughout the chaos wrought in every simple way,
Mankind has strived to put his best foot forward
And wrest the most achievement, from each day.

Through battles fought in bitterness and hatred
In trechery and lies to kith and kin,
Though blood runs rich and red through rocky gutters
Inevitably, deep down, imbues the sin.

For continents and cultures wear their frailty
It's known that Presidents and Princes often quail,
When in the face of insurmountable black challenge
They, like us, at some dark moment.... weakly fail.

From Dallas to Twin Towers on to Lockerbie
We watched the fabric of the silver curtain fray,
Crumbling man's portrayal then, to scattered ashes
From that moment on.... until this very day.

Though brave words of inspiration lift the spirit
And silken tones of oratory stroke the goal,
It seems destruction of all faith is fundamental
If betrayal slays the trust to flay the soul.

So gird thyself, steadfast, with strength and courage
Summon forth that steel within thy mind,
Garner up the cherry bonds of positivity
And lead as if, thy very eyes command the blind.

That man aspires to greatness, I acknowledge,
In conquoring great mountains to achieve...
But the factor that determines the attainment
Is his unimpeachable capacity.... to believe.

Marshalg
Foxglove, Taranaki.
3 january 2015
(After reading Ken Follett's monumental novel, "Edge of Eternity" in a straight, great, three day sitting.)

The fiscal snare is drawing tight
Putin’s day... now courting night,
Rouble tilts vertiginously
To Satan’s **** religiously.
Fiscal snare is drawing blood
A trickle then... is now a flood,
Russia’s central bank adjusts
But ineffectually, combusts.
Hard line prospects elbow dance
Aligning for assasins lance.

Perhaps….
Better now, the Devil known
Than facing down an Unknown throne…..
Facing down an Iron call
With finger poised in nuclear thrall.

What choice now for ego’s Prince
Retreat from Eastern Ukraine’s wince?
Retreat Crimea’s balmy shores
To face the nationalistic howl of hordes?
Brinkmanship…the other way
A gamble that the West might sway?

Either way the game is up
Now bitter wine brims Russia’s cup.

M.

Across the blistered gibber plain where flies die in the sand
Through swamps of prickly sago where rotting death is planned,
To stride in windblown tussock hills where wind vanes carved their say
To saunter groves of green tree fern where moa giants did play.
In clearings cut with alkali, tusked elephant would loom
With crevassed hides, Methuselah, once aged in terms of doom.
Whilst high above the rocky crags of ancient mountain high,
The keening screech of kestral soaring up to deep blue sky.

Heavy boots in crusted sand where tiny lizards flee
Amidst the rust red rubble of volcanic rock and scree,
To clamber up the ignimbrite, great Vulcan's steps of stone,
Encrusted with thick epiphyte in lichen's mossy home.
Up into the altitude where dark cloud clusters here
And the threat of rolling thunder indicates that rain is near,
Torrential in it's downpour with sudden squall of gale
Surmounted, all quite suddenly, with a blinding blast of hail.

Staggering to shelter in a tiny alpine hut
To find hot coffee on the woodstove and a curvy, hot young ****,
To find us frollicking together beneath a patterned patchwork quilt
Was quite beyond my imagination's comprehensions built?
And afterwards in slumber through the curtains of our room
I watched, in fascination, at a hanging, frozen moon
And wondered, in amazement, at the doings of the day
And speculated, sleepily, where tomorrow's prospects lay.

Blearily I stretch out from the covers, nicely warm
To nullify persistence of that alarm's intruding horn,
Yawning into morning I remove myself from bed
With panicked realisation....all dreams evacuate my head.
Vanished are the alpine hut, the dolly bird, the caves
The crash of rolling thunder and the plunge of mighty waves,
Gone are those phantoms which dwelt inside my mind
Devestatingly dismissed until re-dreamed another time.

M.
Pukehana Paradise
13 December 2014

Tho thou walk through life aloof
And look askance at all who dwell,
All who wear the covernance
Of simple shroud in common Hell.
Tho thou speak to condescend
To those who bend convention's way,
Thy lofty tones are lost to they
Who undermine the things thee say.
Oh that thee, should taste the fruit
Bite the fig and sip the wine
Be aware of surrepticion's
Sleight of hand with concubine.
Tho thy sandaled feet be gold
Tho thy robes be lined with silk
Thee must best avoid the vice
That over compliments thy ilk.
Penance paid is rich deserved
By he who struts by fortune's way,
For should the winds blow well this night
Tomorrow's gale may make thee pay.*

M.
Pukehana Paradise
13 December 2014

Those ancient bones feel no remorse
They've trudged the mire and run the course,
Seeped the blood and moaned aloud
Despite the murmuring of crowd,
Despite the caw of she who brayes
Or of the friend, who nothing says.
Despite betrayals smoking gun
Or silence of the songs unsung,
Sweet sadly fading colour's pall
When rich chatreuse was your recall....
Loves lament in darkened lane
As lips, once kissed, now flee the flame...
Sad, so sad with no recourse
For ancient bones can't feel remorse.
M.

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

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.

Sudden inertia, like syrup in veins,
Slows the momentum to halt.
Beleaguered confusion breeds in the crowd
To cause a contagious revolt.
Systems of systems collapse in the void
Order in chaos descends,
Panic in vacuum like flame in the fire
As all civil behaviour ends.
Stampeding bodies in wild disarray
As collisions now ****** the floor,
Tearing, gouging and thrashing the mob,
All clawing their way for the door……..

Now there is silence to wild disarray
Chaos to shambles, now quiet,
Police and insurers surveying the ruin
Try to ascertain causes of riot.
Imponderable queries and theories put forth
Are concluded with negative frown,
Until a small boy points out with a smirk…
“Please Sir, the internet’s, ….down!”

M.
Frightening how, when the internet fails,
….utterly everything stops!
Sandringham
16 November 2014

Sensing loving whispers
Which slide into my mind
To conjure soft enticements
Invoking ***** to find,
Finding warm inducements
Temptation calls its own
When locked inside a fantasy
Wherein we sit alone.
Alone in darkened corridors
Where sensual shadows slide
Where, without preamble,
Eroticisms hide.
Where, within a gentle touch,
All light would flush confirmed
Causing demons penned in caverns deep
To writhe in passion earned…
In harmony such symphony
Of gentle, moving song
Would dwindle in the offing down
To whispers, softly gone.

M.
14 November 2014

Everybody in Russia loves Vladimir Putin.
In the years since he muscled his way to the top of the tree, he has established himself as the Champion of all Russia!

In the degradation following the collapse of the USSR, national pride in Russia spiralled down to an all-time low, there was little to be proud of. The satellite nations fled to independence abandoning the Rodina,  Agricultural and industrial production fell dramatically, law and order diminished dangerously. The economy shrank and the order of success in business depended largely on connection with Government and/or the Mafia. The Oligarchs became monstrously rich, the average Ivan monstrously poor. Life savings were rendered worthless overnight by the plummet of the value of the rouble. Russian society polarised from the ecstatically happy, filthy rich to the chronically unhappy, beggared poor.

Russian leadership staggered from Gorbechev’s democratisation through Yeltsin’s alcoholism to Andropov’s sudden death…. enter the fray Vladimir Putin.

Putin tightened the reins.
He organised regular payment of wages and salaries to the movers and shakers, the police and the military.
He changed the rules of doing business within the nation and made investment opportunities within Russia available to outside interests.
He took charge and commandeered discipline within the ranks of central Government.
He set about correctional treatment for the terrorists/freedom fighters in the Chechen Republic and elsewhere.
He raised the expectations of the common man and gave the people an element of promise for Russia’s tomorrow.
He invaded and took back the Crimea as legitimate Russian sovereignty.
He garnered the roaring support of the six million ethnic Russians domiciled in the Eastern region of the Ukraine.

Putin now stands, bare chested, astride Russia. He faces a hostile but cowed West with pale, blazing eyes and a ******* bulge in his trousers.
He is widely idolised by Russian women and admired by Russian men. He is their champion; he is believed to be their key to the future.
His nation is currently under severe trade embargo and economic sanction by Europe and the West which is hurting the strained economy right across the board.
The declining price of oil is adversely affecting Siberian oil profits and making further shale oil exploration uneconomic.
He enjoys hugely profitable Siberian natural gas pipeline sales to the Southern neighbour, China, but they watch the unfolding political landscape with careful, calculating tiger eyes.
Putin is regarded by Europe and the West as an unpredictable, serious threat who should not be unduly provoked.
Undeniably, the West, in their sour lipped manner, would be happy to see him and his Russian bear, fade quietly and permanently into the obscurity of the frozen wilds of the far Siberian tundra.

But if Vladimir Putin plays his cards well, he could actually bring the Rodina all of the benefits, glory and rewards that it seeks.
However, should he overplay his hand here, he may well crash and burn….and in doing so, could bring Russia’s dreams and aspirations crashing down with him.

Marshalg
Auckland
15 November 2014

Back and forth, back and forth the public's vote awry
Just can’t make their minds up munching gubernatorial pie,
There's an avalanche Obama’s way then hard 180 switch
Tends to stymie up good progress, making governing a *****.
Tends to make you wonder who the hell is now to make the choice
When the population vaccilates with such loud and definite voice,
When the wheels fall off the programme and the public servants cringe
And stagnation kills decision… making every ******* whinge.
Guess I’ll watch it all on TV where the cards have all been flipped
But my bet is on a quagmire... now Obama’s wings are clipped.

M.
6 November 2014
Pukehana Paradise

Drive a Porsche Nine- Eleven,
Wear the Gucci Horse-bit gold ?
Take you back to Seventh Heaven ?
Style locked in Gimlet mould.
Oyster Bay’s crisp apple bite
Quaffed in slender crystal flute,
Cartier peeps from the cuff
Of silken shirt in peerless suit.
Bircher bowls of oaten crepes
At Harbour-side in golden dusk,
A prelude to a moonlit cruise
With chiffoned girl in **** musk.
Pink mansion perched at high cliff edge
Standing over Half Moon Bay
Where poker’s stratospheric stakes
Depicts that only Players play.
Cash cascades with no restraint
For gleaming ninety carat stone,
Adorning ladies on your arm
Who just, will not leave you alone.
You wear your Porsche Nine- Eleven,
Drive your Gucci Horse-bit gold,
Wrap yourself in Seventh Heaven....
Consumated Gimlet hold.*

M.
Sky Tower Casino
Auckland
1 November 2014

Whence did thee depart the orb
To seek the pearls of Jobe ?
Whence did thou retire to rob
And don the elder's robe ?
Whence did thee run far from home
To flee assassin's work ?
Whence was good sense realised
That thee had gone beserk ?
Whence did good become the bad
And rampantcy run wild ?
For whom friend, doth the bell toll
In the slaughter of this child ?
What will the fate's bequeath us
With this legacy of wrong ?
From whence will come the melody
When wrong consumes the song ?*


Marshalg
@theCoalface
3 November 2009