Aaargh yes.....
With mighty clap
The Thunderhead with venom breaks.....
And jagged lightning streaks across the sky,
Blindingly, the white flash downward snakes
To impale the earth where frogs, unlucky, die.
Ha!

They have their own immortal feel
These monolithic trees *****,
The ancients with green wash and brush
did etch these hills, I do suspect.
The Gods did bless with outstretched arm
Descending mile on mile of pine,
Fir and spruce cascading *****
In green and turquoise laughter mine.
Delicate in tiny spines, cones of copper rough are born
Nostrils twitched in acid scent of conifer, of coniform.
Magnificence across the hills as far as eye can see they span
Share wilderness with bear and wolf.... I weep with joy, because I can.
M.

Downy moss doth grow in shadow
Emerald and darkly damp,
Ancient as the runes of legend
Lost to time's priescent ramp.
Damp and downy, roundly soft
Pubescently profound,
Nestled in the vale of love
Where tarantula abound.
Nestled in the vale between
Stark pillars tall and white,
Nestled where tomorrows day
May flourish into night.
Flourish with the elderberry
Mingled with the sage,
Seeping drops of acid wine
Into the maw of age.

Marshalg
23 February 2013

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.

A moment’s inspiration to grasp a building thought,
A panicked, surged excitement, now achieved, where once was naught.
In plucking crystal thought from the yonder crisp, blue air,
And coalescing mishmash into meaningful repair.
To seek a path of verbage realigning phrases bright
And feel the resurrection of creative works this night.
In pulling rich vocabulary from within the concrete hash
Concocting circumspection in this brilliant verse from trash.
Annunciating clarity and a purity of class
To haul yourself, abruptly, to get off your lazy ****…
To burst forth in immaculate and spontaneous wordage clear
And blithely blow away your critics on their loathsome, leering ear.

Marshalg
11 September 2013

Janet and I awoke before the freezing dawn to a cacophony emitting
from my phone. A deafening, repetitive alarm
....What the Hell is that?
My immediate thought was of a massive tsunami wave threatening the  nations shore???

Coronavirus has re-infected us and the government has jolted us out of  sleep to take the matter seriously.

Auckland has been slammed back to Level 3, the rest of NZ to level 2. We have a Polynesian family of 5 who have all been tested positive from an unknown community source.

This has jarred New Zealand out of its smug complacency. This has shocked us all beyond belief. We all truly believed that we were beyond this menace, but the insidious plague has reinserted itself among us.

....and we know not from whence it came?

M
12 August 2020
New Zealand

In he came, sat and smiled and warmly shook my hand.
Brought a pint of single malt from the dales of old England,
Sat, we did, on wooden chairs, fashioned in the way
Of craftsmen, then, from times of yore, when craftsmen had their day.
Spoke, we did, companionably. Spoke of simple things,
Of fire sides now dead and gone where Gypsy music rings.
Recalling all the good men who turned the wheels of toil
And fashioned work of quality and kept the engines oiled.
We supped the draught of warming malt with crinkles to the eye
And turned the glass of crystal cut in hands worn, undisguised,
Hands that once hauled heavy stone, hands that helped a smile,
Hands that stroked her silky face, just once in awhile.
Words now softly spoken with laughter now and then
But all the while the deep respect of deference to a friend.
A toast to all those dead and gone, then a final grip of steel,
With the knowledge that this finality's quiet moment, could be real.
We took our leave regretfully, we took our leave with grace,
For the sanction of those moments shared left warmth upon the face.

[email protected]
26 August 2023

Staring straight through vivid light
Tangential lines of torrid blue,
Mesmerizing, vivid light
To magnify horizon's hue.

A blaze of pinprick turquoise
Starkly circumscribes the mind
To focus cerebellum's link,
To clearly optimise the find.

Suspended in the nether zone
Floating deep within the air,
Rendered incognito now
As aqua showers rinse the hair.

Beautious recognition here
Of vastness laid before,
In the depth of thought potential
Lying at perception's door.



Marshalg
Victoria Park Tunnel
2 October 2010

Children in the fields of green
Play by morning light,
A depiction of pure innocence
Cannot, more, be right.

ᾣᾣᾣᾣᾣᾣᾣ
Arachnidal in it's way
It preaches it's mantra
To the massed disciples
Gathered adoringly,
In the bright, bright
Political bunting.
ᾣᾣᾣᾣᾣᾣᾣ

When old men sip their whiskey
In dark corners by the fire
Red memories float softly by
On wings of old desire.

ᾣᾣᾣᾣᾣᾣᾣ
Menace in it's rhetoric
Invoke a tarantula's reaction....
For this is what
The adoring came to hear.
ᾣᾣᾣᾣᾣᾣᾣ

By swinging lamp a rising gale
Cause tortured leaves to swirl
In courtyards paved and soulless
To a distant bagpipe's skirl.

ᾣᾣᾣᾣᾣᾣᾣ
Sleek in it's element
Of gathered confidence,
Stillness in it's menaced allure,
Eight hairy black legs,
Eight black beaded eyes,
Enbalm the enraptured masses
In it's web of words....
In it's tale of twisted torment.
ᾣᾣᾣᾣᾣᾣᾣ

Sleeping hounds in alcoves
Rouse amidst bad dreams
For the Gods of causal legacy
Diverge from what now seems.

ᾣᾣᾣᾣᾣᾣᾣ
The Assassin strikes
The tarantula rears back
In massive defence....
Fangs bared,
Talons raised in fury.
Angry invective of outrage,
Screeching arachnidal fury.
ᾣᾣᾣᾣᾣᾣᾣ
The crowd applaudes,
Despite the fear,
The crowd applauds
Cheering on
The fighting outrage
Of it's idol
ᾣᾣᾣᾣᾣᾣᾣ

A panic in the battlements
Humanity in flight,
Chaos as the shots are fired
Red blood now in sight.

ᾣᾣᾣᾣᾣᾣᾣ
Wounded it retreats
To the sanctury
Of a tangle
Of Secret Service arms and legs
And the refuge
Of an armoured limosine.
ᾣᾣᾣᾣᾣᾣᾣ

Harsh questions quash reality
Considerations die,
Those discords to disharmony
Now shred a burning sky.

ᾣᾣᾣᾣᾣᾣᾣ
Writhing in tarantular outrage
But safe
And wearing the bloodied cheek
Like a flag.....
In front of live television
Broadcaste,
Immediately worldwide ???
ᾣᾣᾣᾣᾣᾣᾣ
AND BY GOD......
WHAT AN ELECTORAL COUPE
TODAY HAS BEEN....
IN PENNSYLVANIA!!!
ᾣᾣᾣᾣᾣᾣᾣ

Tomorrows order, lost to ruin
As cursed as the plague,
Discarded ****** vanquishment
Intangible and vague.

[email protected]

Across this world of wide expanse
Of peoples of all hue,
There dwell a breed who call the shots
At best, they're far and few.
Elitists in their chosen field
They lead through halls of wealth,
To wield the club of power
With a callousness and stealth.
Unencumbered by remorse,
Self consciousness or guilt,
They ply their craft implacably
With blades ******, to the hilt.
Nobody treads their path by day
Nor ventures near by night
For fear is the factor plied
Upon those few, who might?

Thuggery by virtue
Of it's purity and strength
Defeats the hand of righteousness
And it's limitation's length.
Influence through wealth and power,
Politics and might,
Ensures the threat of challenge
Is minimized, outright.
Ensures the chance of coup d'état
Is nipped, quite in the bud....
And any hint of a transgression
Indicates you're for the rub.
Control here is the absolute
And menace, the means,
Of town and State and Nationhood
Uncompromisingly...it seems!

Doctoring the syllabuses
Manipulating schools,
Ensuring that the emphasis points
To Strength.... to laugh at fools.
From idolizing sporting stars
Who break the rules at will,
To buying off the referee
To guarantee the ****.
The new Mercedes waiting
Just offstage, there in the wings
All dependent on that chosen
Presentation team that sings?
Back handers at container ports
Consignments sent astray
Narcotics for the Power brokers
Ensures they scoop the day!

Extrapolated to today
Where double standards rate,
Where settlers on the West bank
Of Judea earn the hate....
Of the dispossessed of Palestine
Who are hounded from their land
Whilst the Fat Cats in Washington
Offer Israel, their hand?
Yet, seemingly, duplicitous
That very same Decree
Siphons billions to Ukraine
To prevent mad Russia's hungry spree?
Forgive me the confusion here
For I am, but a man....
But is not this a juxtaposition
Here, Involving land???

Tomorrow's cold betrayal
In yesterday's hot win
Smacks of loss of bold cohesion
And fearful, dabbling in Sin.
Black is to White now
As White is now to Black
And the marginalization
Means there's no going back,
For the die is hard and solid caste
And the future is full clear
That the mania of mankind's
Final ****** demise is near...
That our values are shot to Hell
With the message on the wall
Hallelujah's gone, friend
And there aint no **** recall!

M@Foxglove, Taranaki NZ
3 March 2023

I watched some old interviews today, some reruns, snatches of his old movies.....Wistfully.
Then I laughed out loud....a good big, happy belly laugh....
....then I cried.
M.

Stark in freezing winter air
Deeply orange, clustered there,
Rich shades in a cameo
Of black and white in frozen snow.
ROSE HIPS IN THE MORNING LIGHT
Shining warmly, softly bright.
Wicked thorns, the stems, adorn
***** frost, on the buds, is borne
Atop the ancient root in soil
Where beetle gnaw and earthworm roil.

Marshalg
Exhaling in the frozen air
24 June 2011
Inspired by Patrick Wakefeild's delightful "When I have been a Rose"

Shot a rabbit two days ago, it was a good shot taken at distance from height. The rabbit died instantly, it had been digging holes in my lawns, it had to go.

I watched it die and I had cause to ponder the death from a religious angle, where believers say we go to another place when we die?

I know where this rabbit went, he went into my vegetable garden, buried deep with all the other varmints and critters that have crossed my path.

Over the years we, (my wife and I), have turned that patch of barren volcanic ash into a wondrous source of lettuce, potatoes, onions, rhubarb, tomatoes and leek..by adding the carbonaceous remnants of not only these creatures but of composted vegetation, seaweed and selected fertilizers. We also grow the most beautiful roses and deliahs and crysanthemums you will ever come across.

And do you know...in the dark of night other little rabbits and bugs and things come out and nibble those very creations...unaware that they are completing the circle of being.

This is the true spirit of creation, as I see it, where deep in the garden, the motes of nutrition transmogrify beneficially from one entity to another, eventually, for the common good of all.

This is the basis of my belief. Feet on the ground...
What is....most definately is!

M.
Taranaki NZ

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.

Seldom have I seen such strength, such purposefulness shown
And I have witnessed many who have made their message known,
Immovable this woman stands in seas of raging tide
Where friend and foe, as challengers, she’s deftly swept aside.
Resolute she stands atop white cliffs of blazing chalk
To glare across the Channel where her predecessors stalked

In league with Winston Churchill with pugnacious jawline set
When he thrashed the fiend in Jackboots and field grey appuletes.
In league with Margaret Thatcher with that glint of grey in eyes
To the accolades of Gorbachev who recognised the prize.
In league with Boadecia the ghost of power past
Who rallied this great nation to fight on to the last.

Snapping at her ankles the dogs of turmoil writhe
And comrades of another time amass to criticise,
Labourites howl murderously to all who would take heed
While the rabble rousing Europeans joust to intercede.
Swirling round her skirts they mass now screaming their abuse
At her articulated message of a pathway less obtuse.

If Tony Blair had the ***** it’s to her side he’d dance
As would Jeremy Corbett but of that there’s little chance,
Her Majesty stands forthright, as do all her heirs
Including Will and Harry who are cheering from the stairs.
Dianna’s there in spirit plus the Kiwis from the pub
And the rough crowd from the chippie all dolled up with a scrub.
She needs ALL of you behind her in her struggle for the best,
Independence for Great Britain is ascendancy’s great quest.

The very heart of what It means to dwell within these shores
The very heart of what it means to be Brittish to the core.
England, Scotland, Ireland, Wales combining for the task
Of a guarantee of future from the quagmire of the past.
We SHALL stand behind Teresa May and make our voices heard
As we scream aloud the anthem to impart our final word….

RULE BRITANNIA,
BRITTANIA RULE THE WAVES
BRITAIN NEVER, NEVER EVER…
SHALL BE SLAVES!
Boom, boom, boom
RULE BRITANNIA,
BRITANNIA RULE THE WAVES
BRITAIN NEVER, NEVER EVER….
SHALL BE SLAVES!

M.
18 December 2018

Oh the years have paved the way
Across my leathered, weary hide
And wracked their worst, un-countenanced,
Before a mind that can’t abide…

Intolerance of racial plague
Or sanctimonious pedants, vague.

Serenely I have watched it play
Across the tapestry of time,
Watched the rise and fall of man
From point of view of one sublime
Who sits in sun, who sits in shade
Untouched by all the great charade…

Of those who claw a comrade’s face
To gain esteem in power’s grace.

With toothless maw I masticate
The softness of this pure white grain
Untrammelled by the lure of sin,
Untroubled by the drag of strain….

See troubled waters pass me by
From torrent flow to pebble dry.

Through clouded eyes I see it all
The strong, the weak, the proud, the vain,
And those who seek eternity
But seldom pause to sense refrain…

From softly spoken words of love
Where teardrops fall to pools of blood.

Verily I say to you,
Take heed my friend or feel the pain,
From one who knows the way of things,
From one who sorts the chaff from grain…

Take heed or suffer loss from chance
For chance controls this merry dance.

Across the years I’ve sat in sun
Breathed the dust and watch it run
Amok… as sane men have their way,
To rule and wreck another day….

They die alone in cold remorse
Whilst most ignore without recourse.


Marshalg
On the bank of the river Ganges
21 July 2012

© 2012 Marshal Gebbie

Running for a thousand places
Running for my very hide,
Running to obscure the traces
Run from those I can’t abide.

Pursued by the claw of guilders
Pursued by the Bank of Greed,
Running from the Ruin Builders
Run from those whose lust is need.

I’ve worked to build a modest holding
Worked to feel a pride secured,
Family of love enfolding
Sanctity midst world endured.

Feel manipulations brooding
Moneys lust does intervene,
Those who have it all, concluding,
What is mine is theirs to glean.

Claw back by manipulators
Claw back by the fiends of greed,
Implacable cold calculators
Cut with Law to make me bleed.

Running for a thousand places
Running for my very hide,
Run to flee pursuing faces
Run from that I can’t abide.

Anguish at my walls collapsing
Wailing of my bride’s despair
Futility’s tomorrow lapsing
Monstrous as it flails me there.

Standing in a freezing stillness
Standing in this hall of time,
Forlorn in a prisoned illness
Greed has vanquished me and mine.


Marshalg
For the forgotten people who have been ruined by those, who call themselves the mighty.
Auckland N.Z.
9 February 2013

Shadowed in the deepest trench
Four good men stand and stare
At my white face now reflected,
As if I wasn’t there.
Through a barrier of ethnicity,
Down walls of wooden eyes,
To pass through halls of prejudice
That none of us disguise.
They see me through a spectre,
Depicted by a ruse,
Of elemental difference
Which neither party choose.
A product of upbringing
Incumbent in each race,
Between us lies discomfort
When we search each other’s face.

They are black and I am white
Our blood shares crimson red
We all love our wives and family
And we struggle till we’re dead.
Why we amplify this difference
Why we bear this manic cost….
Where a hue of pigmentation
Means all reasoned thought is lost?

There’s a sadness in the offing
There’s an air of quiet remorse,
For mankind to come to terms with this….
The beast must run its’ course.

Marshalg
In the deep northern trench
27 July 2015

When the fetus unfurls
A Spirit flees the confines.
It sprints rampant through life to seek.
Having tasted the fruits of pleasure and pain
And run the gamut of livings extent....
It curls and pays obeyance
To all that is bounteous and worthwhile....
Then, when done, it enters the deep black void
And, without malice, quite willingly,
Vanishes!

[email protected]

It’s taken you’re fed up
With politicized debate
And the fools who do brinkmanship’s
Scared world of hate.
And the ghouls who eat babies
As pawns in their game
In their scrawny white *****’s
Sad quest for fame.

Where the sick sabre rattlers
Cavort with their ploys
Of destroying old satellites
To show off their toys.
To drape flags of challenge
With threat weave inbound
Across mantles of aspirants
Desirous to be crowned.

Intimidating tactics
From they with the gun
Against all the challengers
Emerging at run.
From China to terrorist
The gauntlet’s thrown,
You cross our line
There's no mercy shown.

And we little guys sit
In our quiet, timid way,
Whilst the gigantic ego's
Jostling holds sway.
Whilst the arrogant right
Profess to have God,
And the rest of us cower
In fear, like a dog.

And the sun comes up
With a glorious show
And the nuclear dust
In the air is aglow,
And the rich and the famous
Are dead in their beds
And the ***** and the cockroaches
Nibble their heads.

It’s all such a waste
In a terrible way
When the General’s pushed buttons
And had such a day....


Marshalg
Victoria Park Tunnel
10 February 2011

In the fullness of time
The state may be reached
Where man’s comprehension,
Embedded and beached,
May run the gamut
Of realms unconcieved
And bring him to terms
With the great unbelieved.

He may come face to face
With his devils and God
And face stark realisation
That old pathways he’s trod,
Have rendered him sterile
And lost to the world
Of enlightenment’s treasured
Potential unfurled.

He may curse the day
When he wallowed within
The restricted, dark walls
Of his ego and sin.
The restricted thinking
Possession allows
And the deadening influence
Of substanceless vows.

When he wallowed within
The restrictions of self
And condemned his tomorrows
To rot on the shelf.
In pursuing the way
To such shallow relief
He convicted potential’s
Sad limit....A THEIF!!

Marshalg
Victoria Park Tunnel
3 December 2011

How abrupt life speeds away
On this, or any other day.
Just yesterday, her crooked smile
Helped to pass the time, awhile,
Her passing word, a simple glance
Waltzed bye in life's eternal dance.
The years swept by in stately flow
Ignoring that, which we now know...
That nothing lasts forever, friend,
That ultimately, we all meet our end.

How abruptly Susan went
Her gentleness, insanely spent
Like gossamer, just blown away
Leaving us in disarray.
The suddenness dismayed the peace
The tears and heaving chests...release
From agony's cold waiting arm
Which rendered spent, our morrows calm.

In solitude we gather close
To hug and hold her saddened host, 
To dry the tears, to kiss the brow
In reassurance's know how...
Holding close as hand in glove
All dwelling deep in Susan's love.

[email protected]
2 September 2024

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

Crashing surf on roiling sands
Bouldered with volcanic might,
Westward storms howl from the sea
Battered seagulls shriek in flight.

Pale dune grasses thrash to leeward
Scattered shafts of milky light,
Wild and storm caste portraiture
Of cruel sea's eternal might.

Searching eyes across this tumult
Reaching gaze amongst the foam,
Sodden gown to clinging body
Frantic eyes in cold waves roam.

Desperately she seeks the lover
Hauntingly she calls his name,
Writhing seas consume her words
Crashing surf dispels the blame.

Sad solitude in loneliness
Outstretched slender arms so frail,
Yearning for that tender kiss
And for his cold, dead features pale.

Rain soaked ******* lonely outcrop
Railing at a raging sea,
Lost within unfeeling vastness
Unobserved by all...but me.


Marshalg
On the wild & remote, black sand beaches of Taranaki
20 November 2010

A salutation to the masterful pen of Cyd Guilfoyle
in her delving poem.....

THE SOUL
After some time, there are no words spoken
only an awakening in the silence
of a blue light dawn, a moment
where stars linger on
a portal is found
where the soul
lives on
and on.

To the Master......
A pristine coalescence from your talented pen.
Even for unbelievers there is an acknowledgement of the experience of moments of an incandescent splendour where comprehension and time stand still. Where an unprecedented clarity excludes all peripheral clutter and the complete exquisiteness of being shines brightly.
M.

'Twas the night before Christmas--Old Santa was ******.
He cussed out the elves and threw down his list.
Miserable little brats, ungrateful little jerks.
I have a good mind to scrap the whole works!

I've busted my *** for **** near a year,
Instead of 'Thanks Santa'--what do I hear?
The old lady ******* cause I work late at night.
The elves want more money--The reindeer all fight.

Rudolph got drunk and goosed all the maids.
Donner is pregnant and ***** has AIDS.
And just when I thought that things would get better
Those ******* from the IRS sent me a letter,
They say I owe taxes--if that ain't **** funny
Who the hell ever sent Santa Claus any money?

And the kids these days--they all are the pits
They want the impossible--Those mean little *****
I spent a whole year making wagons and sleds
Assembling dolls...Their arms, legs and heads
I made a ton of yo yo's--No request for them,
They want computers and robots...they think - I'm IBM!

Flying through the air....dodging the trees
Falling down chimneys and skinning my knees
I'm quitting this job there's just no enjoyment
I'll sit on my fat *** and draw unemployment.

There's no Christmas this year now you know the reason,
I found me a blonde. I'm going SOUTH for the season

One must believe in something be he misanthrope or gambler
In tomorrows omnicience or the future proof of God
The penance in a drunk's decay sets self destruct's imposer
Wether speakerphone's on disconnect or cellphone's in the bog.

Conveyance of a threat to adherants of St Selfwise
Show athiest's are proof here, in belief of disbelief,
Haunted by the images painting painfull retribution
Picture sympathetic **** star's allocated hand relief.

A moments allocation of a syllogist abstraction
Shows perspective of the calibre we now reserve for Saints
A paradox regarded as autistic fascination
In a one act play of living disregarding all restraints.

Deliberately indicative of fraternal heat's expression
Notebook at the ready and deep frowning at the brow,
Question definition's collage of confusion's contribution
Do we sit it out pretending or just catch the late bus now?

Marshalg
13 February 2014
© 2014 Marshal Gebbie

Aloft upon some distant shore
The seabird sets her wings to soar
The salt sea tang of crested breeze
Or howling gale of winters freeze,
Through oceans, mountainous or not
Or sea Sargasso flat and hot,
In dancing wavelets sparkling clear
Where hunted mackerel school in fear,
Where natives in their dugout boats
Caste out their nets and balsa floats,

That tiny bird will soar adrift
Negotiating each wind shift.
One wonders how a thing so small
Can fly against the wind at all;
But sweep she does and plunge and veer
In gracious symmetry to steer
Across the oceans vastness too,
To land right there, right next to you.
In squawking lightness, dancing swings
Sea bird alights ….and folds her wings.


Marshalg
Mangere Bridge
8th. December 2007

Howling Gale of Winter moment
Blossom pink from cherry tree,
Driving snow which blankets all
Hot Summer sunset glows for me.
Parched and hassled hens in shadow
Scratch the sand to find the cool,
Starkly solid ice in blueness
White and freezing skating pool.
Green and turquoise in the sunlight
Brilliant hills of verdant shawl,
Autumn tones cascade in colour
Silently the dry leaves fall.
Surging surf parades the beaches
Roiling up the shelly sands,
Lightning strike on green pine reaches
Baking sunshine warms and tans.
Windswept on the dry Sahara
Silently the tree ferns drip,
Alpine streamlets splash in torrent
Hot and parched dry grasses flick.
Honeyed scent in orange blossom
Fills the morning air with bees,
Pollen on the air carousing
Noses twitch and often sneeze.
Globally the seasons vary
Hemispheres of colour thrown,
Glorious in shade and texture
Flavoured by aroma’s own.
All enticing motes of pleasure
Each engaging jolts of joy,
Layerings of seasonal treasure
Mother earth’s artistic ploy.

Marshalg
@theCoalface
Victoria Park Tunnel
13 April 2010

Lost in threads of joys surprise
Engrossing thoughts, a sweet surmise,
Delightful now, as waves enthrone
This pounding surf on shores of home.

Seagulls squabble loud on sand
Zephyr breezes waft inland
Lost to threads of seascape’s awe
When yonder lighthouse beams to shore

Seaward shades of turquoise green
Myriad waves in mirrored sheen
Sunshine blazing dunes, far reach
When children’s laughter echoes beach.

Shapely girls in little else
Cavort with fun's cavortive self
Bringing joy to all who share
The happiness that rings the air

Summer baking heat on land
Washing waves to sloping sand,
Kaleidoscopic sails at sea
Lean to wind-ward’s ecstasy.

Metallic sheen of shimmered sea
Brings sodium’s bite aflood to me
Exultant now, in ocean’s rhyme,
I've supped elixir’s Summer Wine.

M.
In the fading throes of our late, great New Zealand Summer
April 5 2022

Extrapolating time as distance, the last 1000 million years, which is the age of our oldest known rocks, is represented by the distance from here to roughly, 3 city blocks distant.

For instance:

Mankind rose from all fours just 60m down the road… and Christ was born just 60cm away.



This allows the enormity of time to gain credence in the capacity of man to visualize…especially difficult considering the limitation of humankind’s puny lifetime duration of just under 100 years.



But I beseech you… consider the advancement of humanity in that incredibly short span of his existence as a species.



From cave to skyscraper

From  raw bones to haute cuisine.

From jumping a metre in the air to manufacturing and implementing a successful research exploration to incredibly distant Mars.

From the snarl of wrath to an intricate debate on advanced mathematics

From faltering first step to Ferrari.



What other species on earth, or as far as we know, anywhere else in the universe… has made progress at this astonishing rate?

What other creature exhibits the drive and compulsion to excel and succeed?

What other creature exhibits the variance betwixt an expression of love in eloquent poetry and a declaration of outright, murderous  warfare… to his fellow man?

What other creature has the capacity for infinite creation and absolute destruction?

What other creature even considers these absolutes?



We humans are the vanguard and promise of tomorrow.

We have the responsibility squarely, on our shoulders…to endure, to succeed.



Marshal Gebbie



© 2012 Marshal Gebbie

Vacillations weaving stance is perilous to all who broach
For he who says he will, and wont, betrays a trust and builds reproach;
Destroys regard and turns the thought to doubt’s restraining hesitance,
In future dealings, hence creates, suspicions pall in residence.

Wherein truth and forthright eye mark the man of rigid stance
He who will not meet your gaze is one who steps a Gypsy dance
And he who utters hollow words of promissory, turned to dust,
Is one, who one might best avoid…. and on no account at all, entrust.

For some are hard and some men soft and some have slippery palms to grip
And some, intentioned well, might fade as failed performances may slip.
But he who clasps a handshake firm and holds you with a steady eye,
To speak the truth’s resounding tones, when proven…. built on bedrock, lie.*

Marshalg
May 17 2013
Sandringham

For darlin Helen, who was having a bad moment.


Remember back
Before all this began...
When you were small
And fantasy was fun.
You lay in long grass
On your back
....and stared with squinty eyes
Into the sun.
You pressed your thumbs
Into your eyes
And made the colours glow
From emerald green to purple flash
To brilliant, running scarlet flow.
How simple was it all back then
How lovely in that space
When life's greatest complication
Was an itchy, itchy nose upon your darlin face?

Remember back then...not so long ago darlin Helen?
That was a moment of sublime happiness.
M.
26 March 2014

A Crown of Thorns worn to bed,
Woe betide the swollen head,
****** is he who  knows it all
For entitlement’s no birthright call.
Hangs like cloak of stone cement
Endowing wearer nothing spent
Entombing wearer, largely, doomed
Expectations now entombed
Few measure up to mark of man
Most spread the wings to seek the span
Encompass more than ever thought
But expensive shortfalls cheaply bought.

Out of limelight into shade,
Entitled shroud is richly flayed
With overtures of self- import,
Obsequiously seen, as sport…
By other pigs who seek the Crown
Intent on tearing your realm down.
For jealousy incurs an ire
Against you, who dares conspire,
Entitlement as rightful claim
And all within, your ****** domain.

Oh the fires of  jealousy
Burn bright with searing heat
And the pangs of hate come bubbling forth
On cloven, reptile feet,
And what was once was pure and good
Is now, then, dark as sin
And the Gods of Mars and Neptune
Both, with war, come barreling in.

For human nature simmers, hot,
Despite restraint’s cold hand
All preconception, caste aside
Who stays the battle plan….???
What works, though quite irrational,
Is the quiet word of She
Who has determined that this impasse
Serves no man’s sanity
And on threat of dire withholding
Of Country Matters near,
Extracted,  a mute fury,
But a truce, without a tear.

There was laughter in the ale house
Relief in the stall,
Where the horses fed on ignorance
But some men knew it all.
They all played their cards so quietly
With realizations calming stand
When Entitlement yelled, "an early night"
And cashed in his winning hand.

M.
February 3 2021
Taranaki NZ

Warm orange is my love
As the heart of a flame from within
The deep black embers of a glowing log at night.

Brilliant blue, as the midday sky
When it’s hot, yet fresh, are my eyes
When they glean a flash of moist, white smile
In your happiness.

The spangle of rainbow tang
As a pinprick of candle light
Erupts in tiny brilliance…
In a tear suspended from one fine eyelash.

Golden green and amber
Is my happiness in this love…

But my passion is crimson.

And yellow daisies in a green field
For simplicity?

Marshalg
Albury
9.45pm March 28 1969

Slipping into darkened slumber
Silver tensions ease to sigh,
Dreaming intercedes with candor
Prone, alone with sleep am I.

Gentle snoring slides to tenor
Rapid eyelids flutter bye,
oblivion to deep surrender
Gentle, velvet sleep am I.

Dreams of rougely nippled sirens
Plunging to a calming sea,
Fleshed in swelling rings of passion
Slumber's sister's hand on me.

Deep down to abyss's chasm
Deep into  serene's pink calm,
Gentle slumber's sensual finger
Slides into oblivion's balm.

Marshalg
In repose
11 August 2011

I hear the shadow of a song
Lilting faintly in half light,
Just beyond my reach it lays
Tauntingly, as lust's delight.
It tiptoes, teasing, through my ear
Tantilizing recollection sought,
Bringing images to mind
Of indelible delight unbought.

I hear the shadow of a song
Which sweeps me to dimension new,
Sweeps me to a nicer place
To memories of long, lost you.*

Marshalg
24 August 2013

For my mate Chris*

To sit around in anger…does no favours,
To bellyache to me… It’s all unfair,
To hope somebody else… comes up with answers,
To see the world’s shortcomings… flaunted there.


A lack of motivation keeps you grounded
Friends and family try to keep you at arm’s length,
You loathe the Government’s lack of comprehension
In that joblessness depletes your hope and strength.


You feel those carbohydrates clog your arteries
And see your muscled body turn to flab,
Discipline’s resolve flies to oblivion
And you curse all that… which makes your life so drab.


Disappointment curbs the high expectations,
You feel the planet owes you that, to which you seek,
Aghast to comprehend your own misgivings,
You feel the need to say…but then, you never speak.


Then suddenly… a stark, clear realization
That NOTHING HERE WILL CHANGE…UNTIL YOU DO,
Until you turn around your thinking to endeavour,
Till then that something that you seek… shall hide from you.


So look, my sweetness, look into the mirror
Shed the worry lines that always cloud your brow,
Kick your sorry **** profoundly to tomorrow
And lose the ****** shards of bitterness….RIGHT NOW!



Marshalg
Endeavouring to re-motivate a lost cause.
18 August 2012




© 2012 Marshal Gebbie

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.

Orthodox we, imprisoned in colours
Locked in hues of fear within,
Withering limits of spirit’s extension
Embattlements “will we or won’t we” the sin ?

Channelled in avenue's solid damnation
Skirting the sensitive’s damning intrigue
Entrenched in a mire of social containment
Ruled by customry, locked in fatigue.

God! To be free of this ****** limitation!
God!  we all yearn to emerge from the dark!
Shedding our cloaks of intolerable burden....
To sing the unquenchable song of the lark.

M.
Hamilton
20 February 2016

Whilst slumbering
I woke at  three
And thought that
I would write to thee.
Write thee a verse
To let you know
Your face visits me
Each week or so….

Do you read my poems Sammi?
Have you felt my questing thought?
Have you caught the sensitivities?
Have you bled for battles fought?

Have I led you by the waters edge
To watch the sun go down?
Have I introduced an argument
That caused your brow to frown?

Did you laugh with “Laughter” Sammi?
Were you sad for “Mother’s” plight?
Did you watch the crescent moon descend
Into the sea at night?

Have you felt the things that move me,
Do you understand my need?
To record the stories in my head
Before dimming thoughts recede.

To put it all on paper
To lock it into being
Before the picture vanishes
And there’s nothing left worth seeing.

So I raise my glass in toast to us
With a mellow, velvet red
And I celebrate the times we’ve shared
And those wonders in my head.

For the hand of time is fading friend
Our history claims us fast
Good friendship should share tenderness
Before our time is past.


Marshalg
@theGate
Mangere Bridge
27 March 2009

There is no Makers formula
This life depends on chance,
The way you play your given cards
Depicts your daily dance.

Oh dogma flows in utterance
From pulpits far and wide
From those who claim to understand
Eternity's vast hide.
From those who hold damnation
As a weapon from on high,
From those who claim a judgement
As their finger points to sky.
The good, the bad are absolute,
The right bedevils wrong,
Redeemed shall live eternally
The bad shall singe for long.

Old men stand in pulpits
Across this Sunday's land
To threaten with damnation
If you should cross God's hand.
"Belief" is now their catchword
Abomination's wrong
Is to seek to proffer proof of claim
....to Sing the Devil's Song.

So gather all ye faithfull
Go listen to your man,
Sing the Gospel loud and long
And pay your tithe, as planned.
...But should you find you're dying
From cancer's frozen claw
And the the Godly fail to sweep you
To eternity's gold door?
Remember my clear message
Your life depends on chance,
You live within your own good sphere
....There is no Maker's Dance.

Marshalg
After an overdose of Pulpit hogwash.
10 March 2013