For my mate Ernest W who cared....

Invisible in silky strands, a gossamer of lethal thought,
Drifting through the nether regions, touching on my mind.
Complication’s vagaries encroaching on the circumspect
Magnifying well beyond solutions I can find.

Nervous in the groundswell now, I feel it all inflating,
Inflating to a curtaining beyond my self control,
Waves of peristalsis in a shrill persistant keening,
Locking out the sanity in holding logic’s goal.

Waves of peristalsis in a bath of perspiration
Panic in a rupture at the coccyx of my spine,
Ravenously eating at the fabric of all reason
Ravenously gnawing at this rationale of mine.

***** in a puddle on the floor beside my footwear
Cloying is the stench of the ***** in my drawers,
Lost are the vestiges of any thought of decency
Gone is the differentiation in my flaws.

Clenching of hands in a bind of blue confusion
Catatonic slowness in arresting the decline,
Vaccilating eyeballs are rolling for the camera
And utter desolation is a flavour on my mind.

Why be concerned with the shaming of tomorrow?
Why come to terms with the maunderings of late?
Why face the music of the mirth and derision
When there’s a more practical direction to take?

Glide to the realm of the smooth overflowing
Slide in the slipstream oblivion makes,
Slip the bonds of your sad  mortal tenure’s
Awful array of destructive mistakes.

Glide to the realm of serene independence
Glide far away from the troubled and hard,
Gone to the gossamer web of the ether
Gone to the nether world’s silky facade.

...........: But what's the guts Courageous,
You happy with your deed?
Are your friends all overjoyed
To see your suicide succeed?
Is your family unaffected
By the loss and guilt remorse,
Your sudden grand departure
leaving kids without recourse?

Did you think about the aftermath?
The chaos and the pain
And the long term implications
Of your shattered families' shame?
The guilt within your partners heart,
The kids who are confused
And the ****** dissapointment
Of your mates.. who feel abused?

The mess you left behind you
And the tangled web you wove
And the bruising of good memories
For which, you once,...had strove.
Your painless, quick demise, you thought,
Released you from all this.....
But the sadness in the silent eyes
Condemns you as remiss.


Marshalg  
In an effort to understand why?
....And explain why not !
9 December 2010



Read more: http://hellopoetry.com/poem/suicide-12/#ixzz17kzvfsTk

For my mate Ernest W who cared....

Invisible in silky strands, a gossamer of lethal thought,
Drifting through the nether regions, touching on my mind.
Complication’s vagaries encroaching on the circumspect
Magnifying well beyond solutions I can find.

Nervous in the groundswell now, I feel it all inflating,
Inflating to a curtaining beyond my self control,
Waves of peristalsis in a shrill persistant keening,
Locking out the sanity in holding logic’s goal.

Waves of peristalsis in a bath of perspiration
Panic in a rupture at the coccyx of my spine,
Ravenously eating at the fabric of all reason
Ravenously gnawing at this rationale of mine.

***** in a puddle on the floor beside my footwear
Cloying is the stench of the ***** in my drawers,
Lost are the vestiges of any thought of decency
Gone is the differentiation in my flaws.

Clenching of hands in a bind of blue confusion
Catatonic slowness in arresting the decline,
Vaccilating eyeballs are rolling for the camera
And utter desolation is a flavour on my mind.

Why be concerned with the shaming of tomorrow?
Why come to terms with the maunderings of late?
Why face the music of the mirth and derision
When there’s a more practical direction to take?

Glide to the realm of the smooth overflowing
Slide in the slipstream oblivion makes,
Slip the bonds of your sad  mortal tenure’s
Awful array of destructive mistakes.

Glide to the realm of serene independence
Glide far away from the troubled and hard,
Gone to the gossamer web of the ether
Gone to the nether world’s silky facade.

...........: But what's the guts Courageous,
You happy with your deed?
Are your friends all overjoyed
To see your suicide succeed?
Is your family unaffected
By the loss and guilt remorse,
Your sudden grand departure
leaving kids without recourse?

Did you think about the aftermath?
The chaos and the pain
And the long term implications
Of your shattered families' shame?
The guilt within your partners heart,
The kids who are confused
And the ****** dissapointment
Of your mates.. who feel abused?

The mess you left behind you
And the tangled web you wove
And the bruising of good memories
For which, you once,...had strove.
Your painless, quick demise, you thought,
Released you from all this.....
But the sadness in the silent eyes
Condemns you as ....remiss.


Marshalg  
In an effort to understand why?
....And explain why not !
9 December 2010

There’s a sweetness to the morning
With a sky of lilac blue,
And a smile as warm as sunshine
When I turn my gaze to you.

There’s a twinkle to your brown eyes
And a wrinkle in your nose
And a happiness about you
That causes twitching in my toes.

It’s an extraordinary reaction
When you calibrate the time
Of the thirty years of marriage
That I’ve held your hand in mine.

There’s a fine familiarity
In our permanence of play
And the love which grows within
The ups and downs of every day.

And the warmth that courses through me
Puts my pumping pulse to test,
For of all the girls I’ve ever known
My darling Janet...You’re the best!


Marshalg
@the Bach
Mangere Bridge
16 December

Standing on the hillside is a rustic yellow cottage,
Rusty yellow staining from the steel dust of the trains.
Passing, rushing carriages that crisscross by the hour,
The ten o clock from Frankston meets the City train detained.

Golden light of sunrise in the calm of early morning
Golden light reflected on the rusty cottage roof,
Puffing at his briar and sitting at the doorstep
Old Grandpa drinks the peacefulness whilst stroking cat aloof.

Bacon smells a-beckoning from coal range fires a-glowering
Delicious tang of coffee from my Granma’s breakfast fare,
The clattering of silver wheels as silver rails reverberate
Sings the music of the morning with not a trace of care.

Memories from yesteryear I treasure on reflection,
Memories, a little boy, recalled from times secure.
Memories of cuddles in the ***** of my Grandma
And the scent of plum tobacco giving Grandpa’s pipe allure.

Perhaps a trick of memory, perhaps my passing fancy
But I clearly recall a sign above the kitchen door,
A simple sign of welcome with a sense of real belonging
In the gentle name of “Sunrise” to warm the heart galore.


Marshalg
In memory of my dear Nan and Pop Cummings @ Mordialloc by the bay.
23 April 2013

Take a sip of something sweet
Something soothing, something neat,
Roll the tongue around the taste
Take some time, there’s little haste,
Quaffle at the upper throat
And roll the eyes to quench the gloat…
For you are of the chosen few
Who’ve supped forbidden Angel’s dew
To touch the best a life entails
In tasting Heaven’s holy grail.



Marshalg
In Gothic Towers
17 July 2021

© 2012 Marshal Gebbie

Suspended there, between the walls,
My concience, in it's ignorance, calls
Upon my callow, shallow self
To gird the ***** and bridge the shelf
Of failure...in my every day

For which my dear wife...has to pay!

Marshalg
4 August 2012

Meanderings of maudlin whit
Out beyond the thoughts that hit,
On matters vital and profound,
Which cause progression’s surge to ground.

Rather those that sit mundane
In ordinary pedestrian vein.
Living thoughts which cloud the mind,
Congesting inspiration’s  find.

Sifting thoughts of where to cope
To seek diversion’s antidote,
To caste away confusion’s hiss,
To render clear...creation’s KISS!

Marshalg
8 March 2012

Murmurings of memories
Whispering in my ear,
Nuances of notions felt
From long ago, so dear,
Nuances of feelings held
From deep within my breast
Like the quiet stroll by lakeside
When love became our quest.

The way our fingers intertwined
That shyness in your eyes,
And the lovely way you giggled
And the way you softly cried,
The gentle touch of fingertips
That time I kissed your palm,
And the glory of the setting sun
Whilst strolling arm in arm.
Running up the golden sand
As white surf swept our feet,
And laughing at the joy of it
The  magic so, so sweet.

And now ….
Those distant murmuring’s
just trickle down the years,
Those nuances of yesteryear
Sweet whispers in my ears.

Marshalg
11 May 2013
Pukehana

To our darling Veronica

With affection, she I call “Sweet Pea”
The lady’s smile, I always see
When she waltzes by with sponge and mop
With a cheerful wave to all that lot
Who never see her scrubbing there...
To tidy kitchen, loo and stair,
Who never see her great technique
Let alone defer to speak.....

Sweet Pea we’ll miss your great finess
Your bright and cheery fix of mess,
Your happy way of making right
That which most refuse to sight,
May you find your life’s real gain
Dispelling old folk’s aches and pain.
May you have sweet days of bright
Without a cleaning mop in sight.

Love and a great big kiss of gratitude
For the wonderful sparkling world you have given us.

Love from us lot @ VPT

White face at the window pane
Eyes of slate, grey blue,
Gazing out at frozen world
Intent on thoughts of you.
Body wasted by disease
future days unsure
But love for you is paramount
In my lifeway's swinging door.

White face at the window pane
Stubble on my chin
Gaze to middle distance
Where the fog begins to thin.
Pain is now my sister,
Future days unsure
But hope remains eternal
In my lifeway's swinging door.

White face at the window
Fogging on the pane
Pale eyes watch for signs of you
Which won't occur again,
For your heart has wandered
future days unsure
Love is lost to loneliness
In lifeway's swinging door

White face at the window
Destitute of joy
Drifting shadows take your place
You're gone my golden boy.
Emptiness is amplified
In Future days unsure
Now laughter sheds it’s pleasure
At lifeway’s swinging door.

Marshalg
Mangere Bridge
13 March 2012

Tangents be the stuff of life
Tangents be the goal,
When promise wings her way to God
Tangents shall unfold.
When years condemn alacrity
And stiffness welds the soul,
Tangents are the lubricant
For promise to behold.
And when,at last, those fires die
And old men bend their knee
Be assured that deep within
Are tangents, still, running free.

With love
M.

Evening in her slippered feet
Approaches from the heat of day
Shadows in the molten light
Lengthen as they have their way

Silence in the hovered moment
Stillness in the mote of time,
The glow within a sunbeam's ray
Ensnares the warmth of joy as mine.

Drifting insects float on bye
Suspended in the evening light
Against the lace of silver birch
With gnarled trunk of speckled white.

In the dark  blue, far azure
A gosshawk glides on high, aloft
A predator surveying late
For living things in farmer's croft.

A waterfall of children's laughter
Cascades through a field of green,
Overtones of golden shadow
Fills the air with love unseen.

Earthworms in their darkened tombs
Are wriggling for the coming night,
Rabbits stretch and move to grazing
Anxious for the closing light.

The chill night air descends as dew
The picnickers depart the scene,
Starlings flock to perch and roost
Whilst velvet silence hangs serene

Vaulting high above the foothills
Crowned with purple alpenglow
Taranaki's snowclad grandeur
Last to see the day light go.

Contemplation be my friend
For deep within contentment's breast
The joy of living sings it's song
And sooths my happy soul to rest.

Marshalg
Taranaki Evensong
23 October 2010

A silky tendril of time has gone
And with it went the year.
The highs, the lows,
The west wind blows
Like dust it disappears.

The passions and the dreams fly by
And vanish like the mist,
The sands between the fingers flow
Like gossamer dismissed.
The hourglass has run it’s course
The clock has reached the time.
When all those frantic urgencies
Evaporate like wine.

This year has gone and sped away
And left us standing there
With vacant stares and open mouths,
Heads shaking in despair,
The time has gone so fast, it seems,
The frantic dials have spun
Then we starting singing “Auld Lang Syne”
And yet… ANOTHER year’s begun!

May “10" become a special year
For you and yours to be
Much happier and wealthier
And healthier and free.
May breezes blow and fine wines flow
And good luck bless your day.
A toast to you in this new year
With love from M&J.;

Marshalg/Mangere Bridge/for 1 January 2010

Flow in its intricate beauty, in its parabolic slide through an inexact thought,
Niggling here and there as it soars through the rough appendage of reason.
Flagellating the highs and lows of delight and sorrow,
Titivating the realm of ecstasy to thrill the fluttering eyeballs,
Brushing mounds of ragged hurt to bruise the tender, tender sensitivities.
Then soaring, at once skyward, in a quest for knowing,
Scintillating in a spangle of joyous, YES!
To land, exhausted and deliriously happy
In the knowledge that we two,
My mind and I,
Have won ourselves a freedom.

M.
28 March 2017
On the eve of my 72nd birthday

I see a massive, distant land
Of rolling plains of sage and grass,
Of forest covered coastal range
Huge waterfalls and lakes of glass.
I see the distant mountains blue
Through haze I feel this strong allure,
Where unknown shores are lapped by waves,
Where bubbled mountain brooks flow pure.
I see patchwork farming sprawl
Across this landscape, mile by mile
Where evidenced horizon's curve
Brings to my mind amazement's smile.
I feel the massive hand of man
In latticed freeways everywhere
Where citadels of towered glass
Bring patriotic pride to bear.
I feel the spirit of this land
From distant place I feel the draw
Of magnetism's warming hand
Which leads me to it's wondrous shore.
Anticipation's fluttered heart
Now beats within excitement's breast
So soon to tread that distant soil
So soon to realize lifelong quest.
America shall be my friend
Shall be the bearer of my days
Shall lead my adolescent hand
To show me where the wonder lays.

I see this massive, distant land,
I sense those distant mountains blue,
I feel the magic of allure
For soon I shall be there with you.

Marshalg
Auckland NZ.
5 July 2013

A curling green tendril climbs from its’ birthing nest of rotting bird ****
The creeper wends its’ way up round and around the stalk of its’ slender tree host. Leading vigorously ever upward, it climbs toward the light of day. Upon bursting through to the sunshine, it explodes into a huge and suffocating dominance. Wrapping its’ leaders tightly together, writhing skyward, smothering all else. Blotting out the sun. Inhibiting its’ host tree, ultimately killing it ...and every other living plant located below it.

In late summer the creeper produces bunched, masses of frothy, green, seeded florets. Clouds of green plumed waxeyes flock en mass, to flutter, competing ravenously to feast on the banks of seed heads.
Once replete, with full crops, the tiny birds fly off to distant shaded woods there to indiscriminately drop their ****, unknowingly further spreading the insidious creeper pestilence.

I trudge through my wooded glades,
Indignantly I sever taproot after taproot with my trusty sharp blade
….and watch that creeper limply sag and die
With a glint of satisfaction in my grim and vengeful eye.

M.
6 February 2016
Foxglove farm, Taranaki, NZ

Serpentine of hard green sheen
Born in hydrothermal’s spleen
Where pressured, metamorphosed plate,
Converged at boundaries’ Vulcan gate
To lay in tumbled disarray
Where octopi and dolphin play.

From olivine and pyroxene
Derived the crystal serpentine
Through Hellfires’ metamorphic fate
Now crystalized to Greenstone state.

There lying in the golden light
Of mountain stream in tumbled sight
Refracting in the morning sun
That glint of green since time begun.

M.
That glint of green, a jade boulder
in the tumbling mirth of a plummeting
mountain stream in New Zealands'
wild Southwest.
Jacksons Bay
Fiordland National Park
June 2017

This night a rich brocade of colour in the sky
Doth overwhelm all misery, so fetching to the eye,
Breathless in the scope of everlasting piling cloud
Embroidered in a golden cloaking, riotously aloud.
Abruptly surrendered to the racing pall of night
Where colour tones extinguish, now, to diamond points of light,
Where chill envelopes warmth with a shiver to the back
And the night consumes the majesty with a shrouding inky black.
Angrily I challenge the abruptness of the change
Where my spectacle of wonder died to darkly rearrange,
It's so typical of nature’s way to give and then to take….

****! …. Wake up fool…this attitude?..just give the world a break!

M.
13 January 2016

Cast thy nostril to the air
To sense the magnitude of change,
What was then is now no more,
The atoms, rearranged.

Touch thy fingertips to life
To feel, as difference lingers there,
For what was smooth and sensuous
Now calloused, in abrasive air.

Know, that in a passaged time
The trickled sands invert their flow,
For what was once a comfort stop
Becomes an unsafe place to go.

Skill, once held in high repute
No longer wields the mantle now,
Torn the chaliced riches, worn...
Gone, the wealth of sacred cow.

Vast, the might of new elite
Emergent in its chosen time
Fallen, now the vanquished
In the tragic wayside, left behind.

Gone, is the old world
In its jaded coat of faded charm,
Reshuffled, to obscurity
Whilst surging new blood, fast rearm.

Where once, there stood a working forge
Which fashioned mighty wheels of steel,
Now shifts, a field of windblown wheat
Which cares not, one jot, what you feel?

[email protected]

Caste aside on sand so mean

Where fraud itself is seldom seen,

Where castigation hurled about

Results in scoring scars that route

The sensitive and gentle vein

Of acquiescence’s curtained pain,

Of acquiescence’s shadowed smile

Wherein the strands of shame defile.



Marshalg

In sand so mean.

10 May 2012



© 2012 Marshal Gebbie

The Gods hath writ what none hath ken,  
A script beyond the reach of men.
To strive, to seek, to pierce the veil,
Is every soul’s eternal grail.

For he who lifts that sacred tome
May carve his name in star and stone.
Yet time, that thief of memory’s breath,
Shall draw all words to mist and death.

Though some endure through rot and rust,
Their echoes fade to ash and dust.
For vanity, that porous thread,
Unravels all the wise have said.

And in their vast, supreme decree,
The Gods, with cold lucidity,
Have weighed man’s worth and found it seen,
No more, no less, than what hath been.

So let it be, the fate assigned:
A fleeting spark, a bounded mind.
For expectations sought beyond....
It's fading mist and wilted frond.
.

[email protected]

Because of the pre ponderance of handguns and their ease of
availability in America....and because of the theatrics embedded in
the imagination of the population by 60 years of 1st Blood,  *****
Harry and High Noon....and lastly, because of the newly expressed
rhetoric of ultimate violence against any opposition by people in high places....

The mantra of political assassination hangs like a shroud over the nation.

There is always going to be the loose cannon who lusts for notoriety, who lusts for revenge, who hates to the degree that he or she will court a violent end to achieve their ****** ambition.

Politicians are the prime target, loud and vocatious, exposed to the
masses frequently, always violently expressing the primal things which trigger the thin line of discord to rupture with the shot from a gun, with the momentary gleam of manic satisfaction, with the spasm of agony as the ****** of justice fires the round which ends the assailants life.

It is a grand performance which has been replayed through history. A performance, these days, played repeatedly over the media, every portrayal in every available angle, every agonised expression of the players recorded, every spray of blood. The more graphic and grandiose, the better....and it is devoured, slavishly, rapaciously, by much of the nation's spectator population.

Disgustingly, Trump has made huge capital from the near miss of last week. He has enlisted the roar of approval of the MAGA crowd in his expression of ****** defiance whilst being rushed away by the Secret Service. He has maneuvered the mass sympathy of the adoring thousands at the crass pantomime which was the Republican National Convention. He has even invoked the assistance of Divine intervention and the suggestion that God has, indeed, decreed that he shall be the next President of the United States of America.

From afar, it all looks like a huge and ghastly fabrication. A
manipulation of tragedy to achieve a political aim. A blatant betrayal of values of human decency  and a crass desiccation of the  values embodied in the magnificence of your nation's history and the grace symbolized in the proud Stars and Stripes flowing forth, yonder in the breeze, from the white flagstaff.

[email protected]

I’m squatting alone on the step here
Thinking of things oblique,
The pictures flash by
Like the clouds in the sky
I’d rather, in truth, be asleep.
The jumble of thoughts are confusing
The tangle of pictures unclear,
A good moody pout
May just sort it all out
But I fear it will end with a tear.

Bad memories are clouding my judgement
Extracting the saneness away
Cold tensions exude & the dark thoughts intrude
And sweet harmony deserts the day.
The nimbus comes rumbling inward
The lightning flashes are sharp
The tempest in my composure
Makes me long to retreat to my heart.

Once the maelstrom’s down apon you
There’s no going back for a breath,
You just hang on like hell
& keep ringing that bell,
And you fight like a tiger to death.
You must gather defences around you
And muster your forces at best,
For the enemy’s here, it’s intentions are clear
And you’re in for a formidable test.

The scarlet slash of malice,
The grinding guilt of sin.
The searing green of envy..
That’s where it does begin.
You bite your lip, you taste the blood,
You clench your fist so tight
You thrash and pound that wretched sound
From whence doth come your plight.
You slip aside so gracefully
Your moves have guile and poise,
You strike with stealth & venom
Completely void of noise.
Endurance is your friend this eve
You’ve got the upper hand.
Just keep your boot upon it’s throat
And win you will.. My man!

From just beyond dark thunder mass
A peep of sunshine beams,
It radiates the sated land,
Reflects from bubbling streams.
The emerald green of grasses
Refract the golden light
The clouds are clearing rapidly
As daylight turns to night.
The sparrows in the hedge are still,
Bright stars begin to shine.
You blink your eyes and shake your head
The water turns to wine.

Oh thought… You are a fickle thing
Mercurial and lithe.
You elevate preposterousness
And take the devil’s side.
You scale the heights and plunge the depths
Without so much as pause,
You hold me in your silk caress
And then apply sharp claws.
The surge of wild excitement
When a line of verse spins in
And the turgid sloth of nothingness
When boredom seeps within.

Why is it so.. This up, this down…
So frivolous for thee
When all, in fact, you do achieve
Is dark torment for me.

Marshalg
Mangere Bridge
30th December 2007

Hark the stalwarts bray a song to heavens far, to heavens seen,
Gone the miserys who dwell in sordid tales of wrong.
Now the thing interred is wrapped in joyous thoughts to preen,
Of *****, substantial thigh pronounced and dancing eyes in song.

She who challenges the very ground you traipes upon each day & tread,
She who walks with  angulation's undulations deftly spread,
She who wears a tongue so sharp t'would slice a hand or dice a fruit
She whose eyes would dance for thee, for thee to seek pursuit to root.

Hold that brilliant thought in cortexed fields of pain, my son
For foreplay in the wildest scheme I've seen to date, has now begun,
And should you bring the very shards of war upon me then
Despite this death, with her envisaged, I shall rise to thrive again.

Marshalg
In vivid recall......of a very tall and particularly comely Irish *****.
7 November 2013

So hollow in intensity, so shallow in it’s depth
A crassness to integrity, opaqueness so bereft,
A shadow of its former self, this champion of the State,
Arcane in miss-performance with mistake upon mistake.
How is it taken seriously, Why be now, so bizarre
This monolithic monster like a spider trapped in jar?
Writhing in confinement, convulsing from within,
In ranting forth obscenity with florid faces grim.
All dialogue refusal then a storming into view
Of hoodlums clad in camouflage waving weaponry at you.
To barge over borders with a reckless disregard
Mouthing blame at all the vanquished in a parody’s montage.
Abuse at reaction from an outraged world out there
Derision to the sanctions and a startled, people’s stare.
Russia in the only mode it knows to bridge defence
Attack, attack all comers then barter recompense.

M.
29 July 2014
Auckland.

Interesting that we older men now flag our own decline
Composted in this shameful ruse enacted over time.
We point to prime examples of our keynote men of age
De Niro, Keitel, Clooney, Hurt…all class acts, on the stage.
Take Clarkson, Rush, O’Toole and Bean…they brim like vintage wine,
Having come to terms with baldness and the sagging paunch decline.
Like them, we’ve learned the lesson of absurdity of life,
Where the trick to aged contentedness, is to pacify the wife.
An awareness of fragility in that pending death is near,
Is offset by the peace of mind of subdued *** and beer.
We say, to Hell with gradual fade of hairline, health and wealth
When a crystal glass of single malt can smooth it all by stealth.
So quell the racing, thudding heart, lean back in wisdom’s shine,
Secure in that with shaky hand…We can still quaff vintage wine.
And should the youth lose patience with a hesitancy there
We can usually still their arrogance with a knowing senior stare,
And should there be a question of a competency still?
Remind them their tomorrow too.. is running fast downhill.
Don’t sweat it with the walker, for it all arrives too soon
And sweetly on the wireless there was Perry Como’s croon,
Take comfort in the fact that soon they’ll put us out to grass
When oblivion comes creeping in Altzheimers foggy clasp.
To tabulate the good and bad within this lifetime’s span
Leaves the negatives predominant, should truth reveal her hand,
It becomes a bit obsessive when the mind’s allowed to dwell
For around the corner, probably, …. is a one way trip to Hell.

M.
Pukehana Paradise
Auckland NZ
May 7 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

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.

Takes years to build a friend, my friend.
Takes seconds to destroy,
The bellicose, the blunt, the wrong,
The insults and the coy?
Takes seconds for it all to blow
Like gossamer in wind....
With that in mind, what chance ya give
Destruction to rescind?
Chuck in the pearl of humankind
The hate, the greed, the sin
The you'll begin to realize
The depth of **** we're in.
To win this fight, to win this war
To exorcise a change
Will mean we let the women rule
The world, to rearrange
Priorities of human nature,
Mans tendency to fight,
And the way we just discard the peace
As if we had the right?
Ponder this my brother,
Cast aside your wrath
For human kinds survival
Is dependent on this broth.
M.

Notice how the whisper dies
When strangers near a gathered few,
How laughter dwindles in the air
Where yesterday, free breezes blew.
Our public forums disappear
Like dominoes, they fall in turn
And each in turn consumes a truth,
Like ******* in a flame they burn.

And everyone’s opinion fades
As nervous glances flit the room,
A menace in the silence felt
As whispers hush, suspicion looms.
The banks call in the mortgages,
The Cops demanding hard
The language of the press subdued
And every one’s on guard.

And the failing economies
Across the whole globe,
And contrived **** happening
With oil price hikes disrobed.
Grinning cartel monopolies
Who manipulate fare
To cause catastrophic collapse
In the market elsewhere.

Government’s tone has altered
From homilies of home,
(God bless our land & honour the flag)
To harsh Corporate drone.
Big Money’s in the mix you see,
Pharmaceuticals and Big Oil
And the Military have the casting vote
In cashing up the spoils.

How has it all come to this ?
Where have our freedoms fled ?
If they ever really did exist
Were they... only in my head ?
Restricted private ownership
With travelling curtailed,
And the information black out
Shows the freedom press have failed.

But the repetitious broadcasts
Which they want us all to hear,
And the droll propaganda
Which confuses the  ear,
Those brainwashing dogma’s
Which stifle the mind,
Oppressing the rational
To keep we souls aligned.

Why, my friend,
On this bright summer’s day
Should my heart be bleeding
It’s freedoms away ?
Who sanctioned oppression,
Who opened the gate,
To admit the dark forces
Who thrive on the hate ?


Marshalg
Feeling the vibe of what is beginning out there...EVERYWHERE!
AUCKLAND
20 February 2011

Simian, she floats aloft
Till Syme, the thin black spider, coughed,
Blasting her in spiralled flight
Into the vortex of the night...
Into that web of dark intrigue
Where friend and foe, at once, do bleed.

A Merry Christmas to you, Old Chap.
[email protected]

Seldom doth man stop and stare
At the caste iron manhole cover there,
Seldom doth he analyze
The majesty, which beneath it lies.
The pipe work systems vast and long
Dark catacombs so precise and strong,
Buried deep beneath our feet
Extending forth from street to street,
Out across the breadth of town
Those secret fluids trickle down.


Laser levels carve the pathway
Through the walls of solid stone,
Shovels scrape and dig with effort
Forging hard trajectories home.
Digging, digging metal mountains
Sweat cascades upon the brow,
We lay the pipes in straight formation
Precision's satisfaction now.


An Artisan's great work is hidden
Lost beneath the earth's grey stone,
Appreciation camouflaged in that,
The cast iron manhole stands alone.
Magnificence unrealized
For deep beneath your feet,
A subterranean Michelangelo's
Sisteen Chapel, lays discreet.


Unsuspected rivers
Flowing darkly to the sea
In caverns of unwanted waste
Quite unbeknown to thee.
Vaulting brickwork chambers
Which are ancient works of art,
Carry oceans of excretement
Far from where their journey's start.


With thunder's crash and lightning flash
And torrents of cold rain,
The road's awash and gutters flow
Through roadside grates to drain.
Gushing torrents cascade down
In waves of flowing might
To the storm water system
Which promptly swallows it from sight.


Magic, you say ?
Nay, nay I say unto you
That the drain layers artistry
Is unappreciated, that's true !
That the Herculean effort wrought
In winning his great fights
Is largely lost to all and sundry
Who avoid construction sites.
They miss the planning and the layout
And meticulousness too
And the rubber seals which stop the leaks
Which really bother you.
The massive holes and danger
Of being buried in collapse
And the wondrous satisfaction
Of achieving downhill flows... Perhaps!


Marshalg
Apprentice drain layer
MHX Beachcroft site and Eastport
19 September 2009

Atmosphere is critical
Faces bead with sweat,
Eyeballs flicker nervously
Hands are clenched and wet.
Project beyond critical
Timeslot narrows down,
If there’s to be a future
It’s now we swim or drown.

Management are pacing
Their arses on the line,
Humour now is for the dogs
Long gone the laughing time.
Dawn to dark we labour
No time to count the toll,
Must surmount the crisis
Or desperate heads will roll.

Raving at the workplace
Ragged tempers flare,
Eyeballs searching frantically
Ideas tray is bare.
Job is blown to hell and back
Killed the ****** deal,
By Friday we’ll be on the street
It’s over ... ****** surreal!


Marshalg
29 August 2012







© 2012 Marshal Gebbie

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.

Forthright in my chosen stance
Deliberate in the steps I dance,
I seek to make my time fulfil
Attainment, while I wish no ill,
To others who would tread my path,
(though this may cause some friends to laugh),
“Uniquely” is the phrase I use
To walk the walk of life I choose.
So different from the milling herd
To make some other choice….absurd!
Forthright is my chosen stance
Therein, I dance the dance…. I dance.

Marshalg
“Foxglove” Taranaki NZ.
16 November 2013

Perched atop thine cliff’s black chasm
Abyss yawns to freedom’s skies,
Toying with this fool selection
Kissing pride’s compounding lies.

Projecting to a dire future
Twelve months hence to sample view
Chaos in thy vacuum’s spectrum
Options cost…too late to rue.

Think now of thy pride of nation
Hark back to thine battles fought
Annihilate with wrong selection
Causing reputation’s rort.

Tear thy flag with greed and malice
Hear the world jeer at thy fall,
Elect this fool to be thy King
And witness , burnt to ashes...all.

M.

Unenthusiastic in the undertones, my lovely,
Couldn't find the overtures to make
Lost the thread of all the actualities, my sweet
****** if I can find the strength to take.

For once I loved a King who said I couldn't,
He stole the very focus of my dream,
Amputated all with intensity, entailed,
Said expediency would cauterize, the scheme.

Speechless, nay with outrage, I exfoliated bare
Extolled the very essence of my ire,
Screamed his traitorous intent rendered my belief, spent,
My constituents now caste on the pyre.

Treachery suffered is treachery sent
It slices the heart like a knife,
Expediency spent incurs such discontent
That all trust is severed...for life.

M.
Taranaki, NZ
Feb 12 2021