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By One Who Still Believes in the People

This must be said.
This must be screamed —
from the highest hills,
from the lungs of the workers,
from the whispers of the broken and the buried,
from the hearts still hoping for something better.

America is being hijacked by ego.
Not ambition. Not vision. Not strength.
Ego.

A bloated, brass-plated, gold-dripping bravado that
believes shouting is leading,
that believes punishing the world will somehow heal a nation.

It will not.
It cannot.

In the last four days, the United States has turned its back
on the fragile balance of global trade.
Trump — blinded by the mirror of his own reflection —
has imposed sweeping tariffs,
shattering alliances,
igniting retaliation,
and in return,
$5 trillion — gone.
Vanished from the markets in a storm of uncertainty.
A storm he summoned.

But the worst part?
He will not stop.
Not because it is wise — but because his pride cannot retreat.
Not because it will help the people — but because he confuses the cheers of the few with the needs of the many.

And now, the world watches.
Macron has stood up.
The European Union is no longer silent.
Australia’s Albanese, firm in defiance.
New alliances are forming — without America at the table.

America, the disrupter.
America, the pariah.

And still, the people are told to trust the plan.
Still, they are sold dreams wrapped in slogans.
Still, they are forced to pay —
more for food, more for fuel, more for failure.

But this is not a call to despair.
This is a call to arms — of the spirit, of the voice, of the will.

Let the weak-kneed step aside.
Let the truth-speakers rise.
Let the artists, the elders, the thinkers, the builders —
let them speak. Loudly.

We must reclaim the narrative.
We must remind the world that America is not its tyrants.
It is its people.
It is its conscience.
And it is not too late.

HISTORY IS LISTENING!.

Will we go quietly into this manufactured decline?
Or will we bellow from the belly of the people,
until the sky remembers our name?

[email protected]
Take a tender moment, friend,
Pause a little while,
Ponder how the Masters wept
When fashion fought with style.
Imagine, how through history,
Those Artisans, galore,
Fought their creativity
Endeavoring for more.

Pause awhile, and ponder
The task that lies before,
Sip a drop of Irish
And ponder it some more.
A realization flooding
From the cortex of your brain
With a laughing pure simplicity,
Resolving the insane.

The hues upon the pallet
Decree the mood before,
Finessing with the paintbrush
Encourages amore,
The thrill of pure excitement
Creating in you now....
An inspiration's Miracle
From the running sweat of brow.

Go to it, Girl.

[email protected]
A comradely nudge of encouragement in an effort to overcome the frustration in the titanic struggle within the verse of Vianne Lior's  "Where the Brush Breaks".
Marshal Gebbie Nov 2009
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

3November 2009
- From Watching the Ripples Radiate
Marshal Gebbie Oct 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
Oldie... but a goodie
M.
Marshal Gebbie Jul 2022
Like gossamer
In mist it fades,
The recollections die,
Like clouds
That scud Horizons line
Then blend into the sky?

Like dreams that float
Upon the mind
To soothe away the hurt
Yet coalesce as meaningless
To mingle
With the dirt?

The condescension
Felt within,
The writhing of the gut....
Encompasses frustration felt
In sensing
Doorways, shut!

M.
Foxglove@Taranaki,NZ.
7 July 2022
Prompted by the passion in the poem "When Details Fade"
by Jason Paul Klenetsky
Marshal Gebbie Jun 2012
Funny how you perceive a complete stranger

....to be a friend.

- Simply, on the strength of a few lines of prose

- Simply, because of an element of warmth in those words…

- Simply, because of a touch of understanding in the message and a trace of humanity in the tone.



And funny how, over time, you come to rely

On that presence…to be there.

A sort of subliminal assurance that you are

In the proximity of something of value.



And it’s not funny at all

That when this is abruptly withdrawn….

There is a tangible sense of loss, of betrayal.



Funny, really, how vulnerability manifests itself.



© 2012 Marshal Gebbie
Marshal Gebbie Aug 2020
Funny how worst times are smothered by best
How the darkest day sparkles with tittering jest,
It's  funny how sorrow is tempered by mirth
And Fatso's , inevitably, chuckle at girth?
It's a quirk of nature that all people play
To moderate downs with the ups of the day
We lighten the load with that touch of largess
And giggle at self as we scrub up the mess.
And when its all done, though we feel kinda glum,
Some wag cracks a Joke and we roar with the fun,
Roar out with laughter and side splitting girth
So this miserable day ends in sunshiny mirth!
M.
5 August 2020
Ha! makes me feel better just in the writing!!
M.
Marshal Gebbie Aug 2013
"Buried in the Sand" by Terry O’Leary

A beggar clump adorns a dump, his pencil box in hand -
With sightless eyes upon the skies he’s lying there unmanned.

He’s fallen down in Shantytown, his knees too weak to stand,
With no relief and bitter grief too dark to understand.

The Bowery blight is hid from sight, it’s covered up and bland,
And Robin Hood and Brother Hood lie buried in the sand.

"A Rebuttal" by Marshalg**

So Hood lied low, despite the show ensueing without help,
One would have thought a British sort would spring forth with a yelp!

Would spring ***** to help deflect contusions which occurred
When beggar Clump adorned the dump confusing all deferred.

Whilst sister Ant, attired in scant, ran forth on spindly legs
And brother Frog with shaggy dog said "****" and drank the dregs.

It all became too much, as such, a meelee did ensue,
So all called HALT and as one did BOLT...to the local for a brew!

Phew...that was FUN & hard work!
M.
Marshal Gebbie Sep 2020
Pitfalls in perfection are beyond the ken of man
With a yen for paranoia on this page without a plan,
Skipping forth with egomania through a paradox or two
When there’s ****** all to brag about, even if it’s true!
For you know it’s all a homily, a house of cards, a ruse
When it flicks across the conscience, (to laconically abuse),
When it slides up to the reputation, (hanging by a thread)
And you wish to Christ you’re indisposed, (or preferably dead!)
A hallmark of the day that thou can never quite slam shut…
Particularly when encountered, friend,
.....for it has found you, three parts cut!

M.
2 September 2020
"Three parts cut" denotes a measure of intoxication...You've been on the Bushmills, again!
Marshal Gebbie Dec 2023
Still the fires of slaughter burn
In this dry and ancient land,
Still the caustic scent of hate
Pervades the hand of man,
Still the blood drips from the blade
As Arab slaughters Jew
Then Arab children die in dust
As fury blasts anew.

Long the torment taints the sun
Long the wailing cry,
Incarcerated innocents
In dusty rubble, die.

It all began in ancient time
When men in armour strode
In sandaled feet, their fate to meet
Whilst Alexander rode.
Macedonian slaughter fought
In desperation, all
With every soul decapitated
Without so much as judgement call.

Long the torment taints the sun
Long the wailing cry
Incarcerated innocents,
In dusty rubble, die.

Titanic and gigantic now
The pachyderms attack
The archers launch their waves of arrows
From the creatures back.
Trumpeting their fury
In monolithic charge
The elephants run rampant
Through the terrified discard.

Long the torment taints the sun
Long the wailing cry
Incarcerated innocents,
In dusty rubble, die.

Through the ages blood has run
From Cleopatra's reign
Roman legions metric stamp
And Caliphatic stain,
The Manlucks and the Ottomans,
To Napoleon's brief try
That led us to the British pledge
That Israel's flag must fly.

Long the torment taints the sun
Long the wailing cry
Incarcerated innocents,
In dusty concrete, die.

One hundred years hath passed us by
Unreconciled, unchanged,
Now hatred drips from every pore
With attitudes deranged.
Now all out warfare rules the day
And battle shrouds the sky
What chance that fortune swings to peace?
In hindsight....Pigs might fly!

[email protected]
3 December 2023
The agony of Gaza began in 330BC and has been a litany of blood ever since.
The current cataclysm is a continuation of the everlasting emnity inherint in the  denizens be they Hebrew or Arab. The blame delves back centuries. Nobody currently lives who can point the finger at who started what.
Can it all be resolved? Wiser men than I have just shaken their heads and shrugged....So say I, reluctantly and with a sense of deep sadness.....

SO SAY I.

M.
Marshal Gebbie Feb 2015
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.
Marshal Gebbie May 2011
God curse developers
Who bury waste contaminants,
God curse investors
Who prey upon the weak.
God curse the Nazis
Who terrorize minorities
God curse the leaders
Who lie each time they speak.

God curse the despots
Who subjugate their people,
God curse Big Oil
Who swamp the world with greed.
God curse the Jihadists
Who slaughter indiscriminately,
God curse the poor
Who bleat about their need.

God curse the haters
Who bleed the world of latitude
God curse the moaners
Who take away the hope
God curse religion
Which robs us of tomorrow
And God curse the rest of you
Who limit me, my scope!

Marshalg
@thebach
17 May 2011
Marshal Gebbie Mar 2012
An ode to my long and satisfying relationship with the product of Portugal’s Douro Valley.

Golden amber, smokey smooth
Rich with pleasured bite
Spreading warmth to ample girth
The brandy’s fine tonight.

Dustless, standing on my shelf
Bathing in half light,
Golden highlights shadow deep
Paints Douro Father's right.

Born amidst the hills of schist
On vines that root in rock
In patterns neat and quite arcane
Of ancient grappa stock.

Old men sit by river barge,
Mustachioed and wise,
To argue politics and sip
God’s amber nectar prize.

Tepid sun is setting low
To throw long shadows tight,
To bathe the vines of soft green tones
In liquid amber light.

Golden spirit, smokey smooth
Glows with silken light
Satisfaction’s spreading warmth
Paints Douro Father’s right.

Marshalg
Mangere Bridge
Sipping a tumbler of amber warmth in New Zealand’s Autumn sunset.
26 March 2012
Marshal Gebbie Oct 2009
To **** a sour lemon
Throws a tingle on your tongue
It makes you pucker up your cheeks,
Become aware that it’s so fun,
To eat your fruit fresh from the tree
And appreciate the sight
Of kaleidoscopic colours
And the flavour in each bite.

The cleanness of the feeling
When you munch into a pear
It’s the crispness of an apple
And the sweetness living there
Is so refreshing and enjoyable
It makes your senses sing
And the sunshine’s making patterns
In the red leaves by the spring.

The lovely smoothness of bananas
And the piquancy of fig
Strawberries had in season
Make you feel so roundly big
And the riot of sensation
When you bite into a grape
Really drives you to delirium
Which might leave your mouth agape.

Water melon rich in redness
And the tartness of a quince
A pineapple’s golden sweetness,
Many people do convince
Themselves that fruit is for the birds
But as far as I‘m concerned,
Fresh fruit is God’s own nectar
…And those are my final words.

Marshalg
Mangere Bridge
19th May 2008
- From Watching the Ripples Radiate
Marshal Gebbie Jun 2023
Hello lovely, thought you may enjoy this. Love sam



God's Plan for Ageing


Most seniors never get enough exercise.

In His wisdom God decreed that seniors become forgetful so they would have to search for their glasses, keys and other things, thus doing more walking.

And God looked down and saw that it was good.

Then God saw there was another need.

In His wisdom He made seniors lose co-ordination so they would drop things, requiring them to bend, reach, and stretch.

And God looked down and saw that it was good.

Then God considered the function of bladders and decided seniors would have additional calls of nature, requiring more trips to the bathroom, thus providing more exercise.  

God looked down and saw that it was good.

So if you find as you age, you are getting up and down more, remember it's God's will.

It is all in your best interest even though you mutter under your breath.
Nine Important Facts to Remember as We Grow Older

#9  Death is the number 1 killer in the world.

#8  Life is sexually transmitted.

#7  Good health is merely the slowest possible rate at which one can die.

#6   Men have 2 motivations: hunger and hanky panky, and they can't tell them apart. If you see a gleam in his eyes, make him a sandwich.

#5  Give a person a fish and you feed them for a day. Teach a person to use the Internet and they won't bother you for weeks, months, maybe years.

#4  Health nuts are going to feel stupid someday, lying in the hospital, dying of nothing.

#3  All of us could take a lesson from the weather. It pays no attention to criticism.

#2  In the 60's, people took LSD to make the world weird. Now the world is weird, and people take Prozac to make it normal.

#1  Life is like a jar of jalapeno peppers. What you do today may be a burning issue tomorrow.

Please share this wisdom with others while I go to the bathroom.
Thoughts from my good friend, Sammy, who always was the sharpest knife in the drawer.
Marshal Gebbie Oct 2009
Dance to the tune of yesterdays promise
Hope for the pay out on another days win,
Cast around for that magical formula
Knowing that lotto is primarily spin.
Frantically poised with high expectations,
Ready to pounce on that first lucky break,
Keeping the ace card carefully hidden
Waste it and you'll be as mad as a snake.

What determines the gap between winners and losers,
What is the difference in the mode of approach?
Is the talent to guess what's round the corner
The key to dismantling this realm of reproach?
Happiness rests on a knife edge balance
Having too many is as bad as too few,
Suspicion that others are stealing it off you
Destroys you as much as poverty will do.

How many fat cats are really ecstatic,
How many lie awake in their beds?
Tossing and turning, worrying, burning.
Suspicion and avarice tormenting their heads.
On the other hand poorness is no picnic either,
Hardship and hunger are no friends of mine.
Destitution and cranial aimlessness....
Lost to the world and a great waste of time.

So what have you got? What is the answer?
Go for broke and ****** the cost?
Walk over your mates and live with the consequence
Or hold back and join the legions of lost?
As I walk through the valley of death I ponder,
Lost in this web of lust and intrigue,
Am I coming to terms with greed and confusion
Or going backwards and starting to bleed?

Marshalg
At the Gate
Mangere Bridge
4th January 2008
Marshal Gebbie Aug 2014
Dance to the tune of yesterdays promise
Hope for the pay out on another days win,
Cast around for that magical formula
Knowing that lotto is primarily spin.
Frantically poised with high expectations,
Ready to pounce on that first lucky break,
Keeping the ace card carefully hidden
Waste it and you'll be as mad as a snake.

What determines the gap between winners and losers,
What is the difference in the mode of approach?
Is the talent to guess what's round the corner
The key to dismantling this realm of reproach?
Happiness rests on a knife edge balance
Having too many is as bad as too few,
Suspicion that others are stealing it off you
Destroys you as much as poverty will do.

How many fat cats are really ecstatic,
How many lie awake in their beds?
Tossing and turning, worrying, burning.
Suspicion and avarice tormenting their heads.
On the other hand poorness is no picnic either,
Hardship and hunger are no friends of mine.
Destitution and cranial aimlessness....
Lost to the world and a great waste of time.

So what have you got? What is the answer?
Go for broke and ****** the cost?
Walk over your mates and live with the consequence
Or hold back and join the legions of lost?
As I walk through the valley of death I ponder,
Lost in this web of lust and intrigue,
Am I coming to terms with greed and confusion
Or going backwards and starting to bleed?

Marshalg
At the Gate
Mangere Bridge
4th January 2008
Repost
Marshal Gebbie Jan 2010
Dedicated to Mike Evans & Wendell Griffin…for their great approach to the King of sports, Golf.


Loosen up, feeling good,
Back swing nice and smooth
Power stroke an easy glide
A solid thwack to move
That golf ball into orbit,
Disappearing into air,
Diminishing like angel dust
On a trajectory so fair.


Looking good, nice and straight
In parabolic curve
At apex point it hesitates,
No breezes cause a swerve
Plummeting to emerald grass
The ball bounces on the green
To travel in a perfect arc,
The best I’ve ever seen,
It teeters at the cup lip
To roll around the rim
And by the grace of God,
That golf ball vanishes within!


The day at once looks perfect
The morning light pristine,
The singing birds in trees
Throw brilliant shadows to the green.
I peer into the cup
To see my sweetest dimpled ball,
That darling Dunlop eight
Henceforth shall grace my trophy wall.
My name will feature on the cup
Atop the clubhouse shelf
And the bar room shout for all the boys
Should put a large dent in my wealth.

But the wonder, the wonder,
The spangled wonder of it all
Will have me grinning foolishly
Whenever I recall,
That magnificent stroke
Towards that iridescent green
When I scored a hole in one
And drank a toast to Golf and Queen.


Marshalg
@ the Bach
Mangere Bridge
12th  January 2009
Marshal Gebbie Nov 2013
Stone of massive solidness, shards of gemlike flint
Crystalline refractions flash in noon day's sunshine glint,
Obelisk in grasses green, immense in grey repose
Has lain in place for centuries here, how long, nobody knows.
Created in the hellfire deep and ****** up from below
Molten in its’ infant form to flow with orange glow.
To work its’ way down mountain flank to plunge to cascade’s grasp
And tumble, grinding river stone, worn smooth in torrent’s clasp.
Rolling swift in flooded flow to beach by river’s edge
With grasses green against it’s’ girth in shade of leafy hedge.
Seasons come… cold rain and snow with baking heat in summer past
Millennia doth flow on by to leave untouched this boulder, vast.

Until this day I happened by, perchance beneath a clear blue sky
To rest my bones upon this rock, remove my boot and empty sock.
Admiring, in the midday sun, the snow clad peak and river run,
In wilderness of debris strewn from high volcano past it’s noon.
To notice with discerning gaze the rock, on which I sit, is glazed
With crystals of refracting fire to capture, now, my eye entire.
What secrets lie within this stone that lies so massively, alone?
What history has passed it by beneath its centuries of sky?
What stories could this boulder tell should I remove its silent spell?

Bemused, I tie my boot and yield,this obelisk to chosen field…..


Marshalg
On the timeless bank of Taranaki’s wild, wild Stoney River.
25 November 2013
Marshal Gebbie Jun 2023
Guardians of our sanctity, they who portray themselves, suitably qualified, to determine who in society, BELONGS!

Exclusive minions from cliques of poetry to the Roman Catholic church, Scions of editorial in mainstream media, Mandarins of golf club membership. Intellectual dominions within Universities, Educationists, minority ethnic groups, drug cartels, gangs, the rich and famous ….and the military, always the Military....and aspiring politicians of all caste and creed.

Society is put through the selection process every day in every way for essentially, there is no trust anymore throughout these realms of society and an aura of lofty heavy intolerance pervades, for there is nothing to gain by dilution of the criteria of selection and admission ….and a huge risk of excommunication should one be so foolish as to permit a paling of the standards and rules set, for acceptance.

And who, you ask, sets these exalted standards….Ah now that’s the moot point for each avenue of exclusivity has, in the wings, they who wield the power, they who jealously guard their domain and exclusivity with guile, authority and a large degree, of subtle, or perhaps not so subtle, threat. Islands of society, usually enthroned by individuals of accrued, clawed, seniority who are attuned to an environment of command and rule…..in select domains of, actual or imagined, privileged entitlement.

There is, of course, a cost to this. It results in a hugely stratified society. Those who are in and those who are out.
The “In Crowd” spend a fortune maintaining their status and spend much of their time enhancing their image and, what is seen as an expected, anticipated high standard of performance.
The “Out Crowd” are largely oblivious to their lowly status and are generally quite unconsciously happy with their lot, yet despite this, there are the frantic segment within, who are intent on trying to “Make It” by investing regularly in Lotto, Bitcoin  or the racetrack and/or pursuing a contrived elevation, levitation of status in the forever quest of attaining immediate notoriety, fame and beauty.

Said elevation, though, is subject to irresolute resistance imposed by a malignancy, unimaginable to most and bordering on visceral termination to interlopers or would be aspirants.

Thus it is, globally, within the kin of humankind….and if anything, the exclusivity is magnifying to an irreconcilable, irrevocable
….US & THEM!

[email protected]
Marshal Gebbie Jan 2010
Gunboats ahoy there’s pirates about
Speeding from Somali’s shore,
A fast flimsy boat and some black skinny men
With grenade launchers, cannon and more.
They’re coming to capture the tankers
They’re coming to capture the crew
They’re coming to take you hostage
Because fat cats will pay cash for you.

It’s happening more every day now
Ships are held to ransom for gold,
This contagion is out of hand now
The Somalian pirates are becoming so bold.
Hard men in the west prepare crackdowns
Gunboats sail for the Gulf as we speak,
With instructions to shoot to **** now
And make eradication of pirates complete!

But you ask, why is this happening?
Why does a man, a pirate become?
What instigates this crazy morphosis
From fisherman to pirate with gun?
Somalia has no Government to speak of,
It collapsed and went long ago.
No law or army in place here,
Life is dangerous, chaotic and low.

Some fat cats made use of the vacuum
They ditched toxic waste in the sea
They irradiated the coastline region
Making this a poisoned place to be.
The coast folk were dying in thousands
Sick mothers lost babies and kids
Black illness spread madly in villages
Then blind panic and pain hit the skids.

Some fat cats made use of the vacuum
They trawled the coastline clean
Somalia’s fishermen were destitute
The catch went from vast to lean.
The villagers were starving and hopeless
And what was pain became death.
The leaders appealed for salvation
But those with the means, had turned deaf.

Who would take this problem on now?
Who would make these ******* pay?
Most turned around and shunned them,
The world had turned and looked away.
So hit transgressors where they’re vulnerable.
Strike in sea lanes where it’s free.
Hit them near the Horn of Africa.
Attack with blades of piracy.

Hooray for the small man’s justice.
Hooray for his skinny, black shanks,
Please God help their quest for deliverance
For the West has arrived with their tanks.

Now I ask you, in all fairness
To stand back and view the scene,
Where the richest and most powerful
are doing something that's obscene
For not only are they poisoning
The most vulnerable race on earth
But compounding it with genocide,
And I add, for what it's worth,

The West, in righteous arrogance,
are crushing poorest fellow man
In his struggle for survival
Against their mammoth, global hand.


Marshalg
@theGate
Mangere Bridge
25 April 2009
Marshal Gebbie Feb 2013
Balanced on the cusp of reason
Teetering in rationale,
Gyroscopic permutations
Take the leap or stay and snarl.

Reason fights with high confusion
Torn between the yae and nay,
Gyroscopic permutations
Pack the case and leave or stay.

Screaming taunts in ragged order
Torment in saliva mist,
Gyroscopic permutations
Cut the throat or slit the wrist.

Standing on the lonely cliff top
Way below the surging tide
Gyroscopic permutations
Take the leap or run and hide.

Balanced on the cusp of reason
Teetering on right or wrong,
Gyroscopic permutations
Join the dead or sing a song.

Walking up the baking highway
Soaking up the streaming sun
Gyroscopic permutations
Laugh or cry... today I won.*


Marshalg
Throwing the dice.
22 February 2013

© 2013 Marshal Gebbie
Marshal Gebbie Jun 2020
Those ******* all get dressed to ****, that type, they're not themselves,
They play the game of smart charades wherein the artful delves;
Delves to shield the ugly, the unclean, the impure
And strives to hide it all behind a front, convinced to lure,
Belief in their conviction, their truth beyond all guile.....
But deep within, astute eyes trap, that smidgen of a smile,
That crooked glint of confidence, ensnared within the lie
To Prompt a slamming of the door... and watch those arseholes fly.

M.
22 June 2020
Online.
Marshal Gebbie Jan 2011
Hail the hero’s, too few many
Hail the boy who strikes a blow,
Hail the one who sticks his neck out
Risking life for nought to show.

Countermand the armed offender
Sheild the maiden’s breast from knife,
Bare the heart for chance to take
This brave young soul’s incautious life.

Blow the trumpet’s scarlet fanfare
Wave the flags for all to see
Heroism’s rare exposure...
Praise this man for what he be!



Marshalg
Victoria Park Tunnel
11 January 2011
Marshal Gebbie Nov 2011
Gee it’s great to meet good people,
hear strong words and see big sights,
Feel the atmosphere pervading,
seeping through the wrong & rights
of giant types.

Strength in structure, taste in art,
these things I did percieve,
when you and I dear we did cart
a cache of plums, deep blue and ****,
under your grandma’s eve.

It’s funny how you feel at home,
feel acceptance without effort,
knowing that the breadth of foresight
will not judge you without cause,
Love and animation calling
through the sturdy timbers tight,
stretching down and pulling upright
countenance depressed by laws
of those callow public paws.

When we left my heart was singing,
I did love them like my own,
for I knew deep down inside me
I had found another home
in which we two....
could build our love alone.

Marshalg
Albury 18th March 1969
Marshal Gebbie Oct 2009
Do your dreams lead  you up to Nirvana?
Do you travel on tendrils of foam?
Do you wake in the night?
Does your heart pound with fright?
Are you scared when they leave you alone?

Are you happy to be a good person?
Do you feel you deserve a good name?
Do you anxiously flout
All your money about
And try hard to accumulate fame?

Do you help when a baby is crying?
Do you lend when your best friend is poor?
Have you fought for your rights
In political fights
Or just stood by and noted the score?

Does your life feel spaciously empty?
Do you cry in despair in your bed?
Is the pointlessness true
Is it happening to you?
Do you dream you’d be better off dead?

Does it all seem a little like hard work?
Are you ******* before you begin
Should you shampoo both hands
And discard all those plans
And ignore the egg on your chin.

Are you angry and filled with frustration?
Have you ground your teeth with rage?
Have you mounted a fight
Before this day is night
And determined to turn a new page?

Are you coming together at long last?
Has the breeding come to the fore?
Is your spine now straight?
Has your heart lost it’s hate?
Are you showing your ****..the door?

Is euphoria blowing a fresh wind?
Are clear eyes  searching the shore?
Has a day not begun
Without blue sky and sun?
Have you dreamt love might happen once more?

The freshness and sparkle of raindrops,
The smell of new mown hay
Makes the being intense
It discards all pretense
And announces hope for this day.

Do your dreams lead you up to Nirvana?
Do you wake with a song in your heart?
Are you ready to fly
In this peppermint sky?
Or does something… set you apart?


Marshalg
Mangere Bridge
18th December 2007
- From Watching the Ripples Radiate
Marshal Gebbie Jul 2013
Do your dreams lead  you up to Nirvana?
Do you travel on tendrils of foam?
Do you wake in the night, does your heart pound with fright?
Are you scared when they leave you alone?

Are you happy to be a good person?
Do you feel you deserve a good name?
Do you anxiously flout all your money about
And try hard to accumulate fame?

Do you help when a baby is crying?
Do you lend when your best friend is poor?
Have you fought for your rights in political fights
Or just stood by and noted the score?

Does your life feel speciously empty?
Do you cry in despair in your bed?
Is the pointlessness true is it happening to you?
Do you dream you’d be better off dead?

Does it all seem a little like hard work?
Are you ******* before you begin?
Should you shampoo both hands and discard all those plans
And ignore the egg on your chin?

Are you angry and filled with frustration?
Have you ground your teeth with rage?
Have you mounted a fight before this day is night
And determined to turn a new page?

Are you coming together at long last?
Has the breeding come to the fore?
Is your spine now straight, has your heart lost it’s hate?
Are you showing your ****..the door?

Is euphoria blowing a fresh wind?
Are clear eyes  searching the shore?
Has a day not begun without blue sky and sun?
Have you dreamt love might happen once more?

The freshness and sparkle of raindrops,
The smell of new mown hay
Makes the being intense it discards all pretense
And announces hope for this day.

Do your dreams lead you up to Nirvana?
Do you wake with a song in your heart?
Are you ready to fly in this peppermint sky?
Or does something here… blow you apart?


Marshalg
Mangere Bridge
18th December 2007

- From Watching the Ripples Radiate
Marshal Gebbie Dec 2021
Have you ever wondered why
The larks fly high in clear blue sky?
Pondered how it all makes sense
Avoiding those who sit the fence?
Peered into a bubbling brook
And thanked what impulse made you look?
Argued good was partly bad
A quandary sought but strangely sad?
Spent the moment lost in thought
When better options sought, you ought?
Delved into a sticky place
And wore the egg upon your face?
Insisted black was really blue
Until she made a fool of you?
Strode ahead to win the race
To find you couldn't hack the pace?
Wished the day would turn to rain
Till flooding made it all insane?
Stamped your foot and called it right
When right was wrong and caused a fight?
Laid back on a lazy day
Till conscience called you out to pay?
Drank that whiskey from the jar
To make the spinning room...bizarre?
Left that which should be done, undone
....and found her bitter ire...no fun?
Walked into an empty church
To feel God left you in the lurch?
Pondered what it's all about
Then freaked when whisper turned to shout?
Really cared to make a play
Tho foolishness won't win the day?
When Covid spat the vaxless few
Ya feel we kinda pressured you?
Suspect this written stuff don't rate
Probably just.... irritate?

Well, truthfully?

M.
12 December 2021
Marshal Gebbie Oct 2011
Have you noticed how the music screams,
How children in the mall confront,
How anchormen are filled with glee
When TV news disaster's front?

Noticed how the colours fade
When iridescent seas are fouled
Or skies turn turgid grey from blue
And football crowds scream hatred loud?

And why is it that every time
An ethnic immigrant complains,
He points the finger square at us,
The fools, whose benefits he claims?

And Asiatic hatreds brew
Between the Indian brother’s, brown,
Over Kashmir’s shaky border fight
And Pakistan’s deep, angry frown.

There’s trouble in the Middle East
Kalashnikovs shoot up the town,
Somebody soon, should tell those boys
When slugs go up, they must come down.

And what about the filthy beasts
Who scatter needles in the sand
To leave the fickle fall of dice
To innocents with tender hand.

Have you noticed how the wealthy keep
The good stuff for their selfish self?
The rest of WE are left to fight
Amongst ourselves for lowest shelf

And how about Ghaddafi’s end
So brutal at the sandy drain
Where wild eyed Arabs shot him dead
And TV watchers, fat, complained?

And listen to the moaning Greeks
Who’ve clearly lived beyond their means,
Complain about austerity
And pauperize their Europeans.

And witness now the howling Yanks
Who stand to point recession’s claws
Directing blame at anyone,
But themselves, whom problems cause.

And finally an Arabesque,
Macabre in its grotesque call,
Of skeletal, Ethiopian forlorn
Whose starving end, ignored by all.

There’s beauty in this bounteous world,
There’s Godly, good, and quiet serene,
But just beneath the surface lies
The human filth, deserved, obscene.

Marshalg
Observing my world in turmoil.
Auckland N.Z.
22 October 2011
Marshal Gebbie Nov 2015
Ordinary people
Doing ordinary things
On an ordinary day
Slaughtered,
Suddenly.
Violently.
Causlessly.
Irrationally.
B­rutally.
So that
Jihadists
May salve their lust
For Power
And
Caste havoc
In their own
Misguided image,
...In the name
of their own
Perverted cause.

Allah the Almighty
Surely quails in horror
That they do thus
To the innocent,
In His name?*

M.
15 Nov 2015
Marshal Gebbie Dec 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
Marshal Gebbie Nov 2009
The rain is on the windowpane
It's cold and still outside
And we're together cuddled up,
Entwined in bed ...sublime!

Sunday morning, nothings on
The day is ours to spend
But entwined, we want this magic moment
...Now, to never end.

Curled together in a warm embrace
Our bodies... Oh so near,
I can feel your breath upon my brow
Hear your heartbeat in my ear.

Our toes are pressed together
Your fingers curling in my hair
I just love your gentle snoring
And your heartbeat in my ear.

Through all the years we've shared
The good, the bad, the far the near
These loving moments are the best
When there's your heartbeat in my ear.

The understanding that develops
Over time, year after year
And the love that grows within it,
Heartbeat in my ear.


Marshalg
Mangere Bridge
5th October 2008
Marshal Gebbie Jun 2012
A poem for Steve Yocum


“Hark to me”, a wise man said,
“Behold the past and present thread
Of passions held within your heart,
In memories recalled from the start”.

Treasure flooding through your mind
Of joy released in life’s rewind….

“Hearts, minds and memories, my son,
Will well endure till living’s done”.

© 2012 Marshal Gebbie
Marshal Gebbie Feb 2010
It’s very nice in Heaven
     Very gentle underfoot,
     God’s temple is so icy calm
     And that’s conservatively put.

     There’s three flags at the gateway
     They’re there to set the pace,
     Hebrew blue and Moslem green
     Under Christ’s bewhiskered face.

     Hindu’s have got a leg in
     And Zen for Zen’s sake’s there,
     But the Proddies and the Catliks
     Are in dispute as to what is fair.

     Amazing how they bicker,
     The Proddies and the Micks
     You’d think in time they’d sort it out
     Take the Irish…Silly ******!

     Getting back to Heaven…
     The golden pathways there
     With avenues of crystal gems
     To welcome you upstairs.

     And high above a shining light
     Burning in the sky,
     Which symbolizes passion,
     I suppose, or pigs that fly?

    This symbolic high Heaven stuff
     Is very hard to read,
     It could be ornamental
     Or perhaps, exactly what you need.

     One thing’s very certain though,
     When you glide into this place,
     It pays to have a solemn look
     Of seriousness on your face.

     They don’t like silly buggers
     Who joke and act the fool,
     Commitment is the keyword
     And the Bible is the tool.

     Confusing when you get there
     You’re read the riot act
     And threatened with damnation
     If with the Devil you’ve made a pact.

     The heavy condemnation
     The steely searching eye
     And then the tome of absolution
     Because He loves you, so must I ?

     So think upon it brother
     If you think you cut the cloth,
     Then walk right up and wing it
     With the Angels, like a moth.

     But should you have your doubts
     I suggest a quickish about face
     And leg it with the villains
     To that other warmish place.


Marshalg
@theGate
Mangere Bridge
28 April 2009
Marshal Gebbie Feb 2021
Pathogens spontaneously perforate the way
When ideological madmen infiltrate the day,
When fools bearing doctorates infect with excess
Where halfwits in spandex concur in distress.

For intimidation's message of ignorant plight
So paves this pathway, cadenced in fright,
Belligerence caste in a dark hue forlorn
Obliterates normality's wavering form.

A flight of justice, flung far away,
Impinging the right in this wrong on this day.
What price this quest for stark racial gain
When the conquest won, is a recidivist's pain.

M.
24th February 2021
Marshal Gebbie Oct 2023
A missive from my old mate Hareballs....giving us a laugh at ourselves and this crazy world.
Cheers M.

The following is an actual question given on a University of Arizona chemistry midterm, and an actual answer turned in by a student.

The answer by one student was so 'profound' that the professor shared it with colleagues, via the Internet, which is, of course, why we now have the pleasure of enjoying it as well:

Bonus Question: Is Hell exothermic (gives off heat) or endothermic (absorbs heat)?

Most of the students wrote proofs of their beliefs using Boyle's Law (gas cools when it expands and heats when it is compressed) or some variant.

One student, however, wrote the following:

First, we need to know how the mass of Hell is changing in time. So we need to know the rate at which souls are moving into Hell and the rate at which they are leaving, which is unlikely. I think that we can safely assume that once a soul gets to Hell, it will not leave. Therefore, no souls are leaving. As for how many souls are entering Hell, let's look at the different religions that exist in the world today.

Most of these religions state that if you are not a member of their religion, you will go to Hell. Since there is more than one of these religions and since people do not belong to more than one religion, we can project that all souls go to Hell. With birth and death rates as they are, we can expect the number of souls in Hell to increase exponentially. Now, we look at the rate of change of the volume in Hell because Boyle's Law states that in order for the temperature and pressure in Hell to stay the same, the volume of Hell has to expand proportionately as souls are added.

This gives two possibilities:

1. If Hell is expanding at a slower rate than the rate at which souls enter Hell, then the temperature and pressure in Hell will increase until all Hell breaks loose.

2. If Hell is expanding at a rate faster than the increase of souls in Hell, then the temperature and pressure will drop until Hell freezes over.

So which is it?

If we accept the postulate given to me by Teresa during my Freshman year, 'It will be a cold day in Hell before I sleep with you,' and take into account the fact that I slept with her last night, then number two must be true, and thus I am sure that Hell is exothermic and has already frozen over. The corollary of this theory is that since Hell has frozen over, it follows that it is not accepting any more souls and is therefore, extinct........leaving only Heaven, thereby proving the existence of a divine being which explains why, last night, Teresa kept shouting, 'Oh, my God.’….Oh, my God

THIS STUDENT RECEIVED AN A+.
Marshal Gebbie Jul 2012
Old friend, that shot is picture perfect. Your place (The Gebbie Compound)

is indeed heaven on a hill. You did a fine job in planning and execution. I'm

so happy for you and your lovely wife, you guys deserve what you have created.



Old son, I think we both have found what we have looked for all our lives.

**** good on us! They say; "Good things do come to those that wait".

(Sure, as long as we work ****** hard to get it while we wait.) What we have

earned and our kids make old age bearable.



Steve



A perfect, cold and frosty mid-winters day. Air is biting crisp, sun, warm on my back. Old Egmont towers behind the house gleaming with pristine snow and ice. The tui’s are cavorting in the trees ******* nectar from the early fuchia flowers with their long curved beaks, a flash of green iridescence as they fluff their neck feathers. Mother is cooking something great in the kitchen, she is about to call me in for hot coffee and cake….Life is great Stevo, could not be better.



Like minds-different hemispheres-same world.

Regards M





But for starlight, the night is black, no moon

on the rise. My porch a stage to the music of

crickets and frogs in the summer grass. A gentle

breeze touches me like a lover in the dark, caressingly

cool in my July heat of peaceful repose.



The scents of gardenias and honeysuckle drift

in on the currents and far off up the hill a Coyote

calls to his friends. Cooing night birds mummer.



The barn cats come to join me, silent and careful.

One onto my lap, the other to lay down beside my

chair. Soon the purring of a feline mixes with the

music of the grass and the air. Together we all peer

out into the peaceful void, perhaps thinking the same

thoughts, living fine, being in the moment.



These small perfect bits of time come and go. If only

I could string them all together, like rubies on a chain,

what a priceless necklace they would make and yet,

they cost me nothing and once collected, are not for sale.



© 2012 Marshal Gebbie


  Author's Note


Exchange between two old codgers situated in opposite hemispheres, in opposite seasons, but with a remarkably similar take on the quality of their individual lot in life.
Marshal Gebbie Oct 2009
Exultant in hiatus hovering
Indulgent in this paused rewind,
To Jubilantly rob the reaper
Bleeding him of stolen time.

Illicit whispers silenced now
A brooding hue invades the room,
Whispy red, magenta forces
Hold at bay gloom's moody doom.

Translucence in the shadow shimmers
Time and space suspend as one,
Whilst others wither on the vine
Eternity's embraced by some.

This gentle feeling, floating there
The thrill of flying free,
From complications vagaries,
From life's complexity.

The crystal cadence starts to wither
Silky walls do billow in,
Hurled abuse invades the instant
Carping walls of harping din.

Retreating to the everyday
And wrinkled skin again,
The golden days of pause have fled
As time resumes her reign.

Marshalg
@theCoalface
Mangere Bridge
29 October 2009
www.worthyofpublishing.com
Marshal Gebbie Jun 2020
Where in the world is the sanctity kept, when the truth seeps away to a lie, how can it be that a few furtive puffs, separates the low from the high?
Can you promise, in honesty Sir, that a black man can make like a white, or that whites make adjustments to be like a black, knowing difference indelibly bites?
Protest pedantically puffs up the crowd, though most go along for the larks, but the whole world contuses in radical rage because cops use their dentures like sharks?
Blue the shade of endless sky, black the shade of pitch but green's reserved for envy, friend, when trading with the rich.
How then the love that all kids wear, is as shallow as mist in the air...and their Kardashian cravings make millions for some, but leave most in utter despair?
What's with the content she rattles around, on the average day in her head, for the blood that she bleeds obscurely deceives, even though it's a bright shade of red?
Sacrifice counts in a family way, though a marriage may fast disappear, when the glue dissipates then the thing that rates, is that  maintenance payments are dear?
Where are the leaders to show us the way, how can we possibly see, when obsession and greed are compounding to bleed...Can this really be happening to me?
Surely goodness and mercy shall furnish the way...Now aint that the teaching of Church... or should we confess that it's all such a mess, that we're, now ******* bricks in the lurch?
Maybe the sun will shine today, maybe it will rain, but the one thing you can bet on, pal ....it'll, definitely, come with pain!

M.
10 June 2020
Sittin n' grizzlin in the rain.
Marshal Gebbie Jul 2012
ALERTS TO FINANCIAL AND MILITARY THREATS IN 2012 EUROPE

By John Cleese (British writer, actor and tall person):

The English are feeling the pinch in relation to recent events in Syria
and have therefore raised their security level from "Miffed" to
"Peeved." Soon, though, security levels may be raised yet again to
"Irritated" or even "A Bit Cross." The English have not
been "A Bit Cross" since the blitz in 1940 when tea supplies nearly ran
out. Terrorists have been re-categorized from "Tiresome" to "A ******
Nuisance." The last time the British issued a "****** Nuisance" warning
level was in 1588, when threatened by the Spanish Armada.

The Scots have raised their threat level from "*******" to "Let's get
the *******." They don't have any other levels. This is the reason they
have been used on the front line of the British army for the last 300 years.

The French government announced yesterday that it has raised its terror
alert level from "Run" to "Hide." The only two higher levels in France
are "Collaborate" and "Surrender." The rise was precipitated by a recent
fire that destroyed France 's white flag factory, effectively paralyzing
the country's military capability.

Italy has increased the alert level from "Shout Loudly and Excitedly"
to "Elaborate Military Posturing." Two more levels remain: "Ineffective
Combat Operations" and "Change Sides."

The Germans have increased their alert state from "Disdainful Arrogance"
to "Dress in Uniform and Sing Marching Songs." They also have two higher
levels: "Invade a Neighbor" and "Lose."

Belgians, on the other hand, are all on holiday as usual; the only threat
they are worried about is NATO pulling out of Brussels.

The Spanish are all excited to see their new submarines ready to deploy.
These beautifully designed subs have glass bottoms so the new Spanish
navy can get a really good look at the old Spanish navy.

Australia , meanwhile, has raised its security level from "No worries" to
"She'll be alright, Mate." Two more escalation levels remain: "******! I
think we'll need to cancel the barbie this weekend!" and "The barbie is
cancelled." So far no situation has ever
warranted use of the last final escalation level.

A final thought -" Greece is collapsing, the Iranians are getting
aggressive, and Rome is in disarray. Welcome back to 430 BC."
Marshal Gebbie Feb 2010
Deep sleep or slumber,
Function ability’s number
Have confidence with humility,
Use pride’s tool,servility.
Know when to jump and when to run,
When to sprint to beat the gun.
When to harbour, when to fight.
The time to judge indulgence right.
Courage or audacity,
Lock it in or set it free.
Options all which set the tone
Hit the balance, drive it home.


Marshalg
@theGate
Mangere Bridge
11 May 2009
Marshal Gebbie Sep 2023
Speculation holds the sway
On this, avuncularly, flavoured day
Where clouds mass, massivly, in sky
And cerebral doubt flits, squarely, bye.
Furrowed brow, maligns the face
And worried eyes, immersing space.
For all is not, as should be, here
There's anguish...and a certain fear.
Shortcomings tarnish hard, the day
Where Bishop,s Knight, delays my play,
Where consequences bridge the call...
Obliterating options, all?

[email protected]
Through halls of mist
This great facade,
Where conscience looms
But finds it hard,
Where prescience,
Tho graced in lies,
Instead portrayed
As one who flies.

Casted in your granite stone
The untruth known,
To you alone?

[email protected]
Adherence to Bonnie's theme in her searching, "Limestone Facade".
Marshal Gebbie Jan 2021
Rolling across the entire planet a new feeling prevails….Hope!
    
Hope for the sanctity of honesty.
Hope in the sanity of restraint.
Hope in the healing of unity in a nation, currently at odds.
Hope that an organized universal vendetta against Coronavirus will bring the pandemic to an early end.
Hope in the common sense of all people to realize the wisdom of harmonious peace and in the fostering of trust, globally, throughout humanity.
Hope that Joe and Kamala have the strength, endurance and wisdom to lead us out of the wilderness to the promise, beyond.

HOPE FOR THE NEW AMERICA,  NOW EMERGING.

M
NEW ZEALAND
20 January 2021
Marshal Gebbie May 2012
A very firm intention
To tell it as it is
Has the audience attention
On its toes and all afizz,
Though channelled to the circumspect,
With a patterned thought awry
It chaotically cascades
Across the prism of the eye.

It chaotically discharges
In a scattergun array
Of verbal innuendoes
Through a thin, saliva spray,
And all the passion spent in telling,
All the effort of the tale,
Sends a barrage of confusion
To occipital portrayal.

Where the tiny bones of balance
All atremble with the sound
Have discharged interpretation
Through a penny to a pound.
There’s a lost extrapolation,
There’s a blank look on the face
Where the balance of exchange
Has frittered nimbly from this place.

A calmness in both parties
As a sad pretence prevails,
Where communication nexus
Is ignored to save the whales.

Marshalg
Incommunicado
30 May 2012

© 2012 Marshal Gebbie
Marshal Gebbie Jan 2019
How goes the body friend?
How ticks the mind?
Did you find the Demons wanting?
Is the morning light sublime?
Have you wondered how the Angels sang
When they filled the night with song?
Have you angered with a short fuse burnt
When drivel lasts too long?
Do you long for peaceful moments
Do you loath the clamour, loud
Seek an isolation
From the leather, foul mouthed crowd?
Have you come to terms with silence
As you ponder evening light?
Is equivocation righteous
Or does wrong consume the right?
Are you happy with your yardstick
Do you feel you've played it right
Or is it time to shut the curtain
And surrender to the night?
M.
Dedicated to my old mate, Stevo, laid low and recovering.
M.
15 Jan 2019
Marshal Gebbie Jul 2019
I’ve watched the western coast decline in pounding surf and howling gale
I’ve noticed how the rising tides encroach, to day by day impale,
The crumbling cliffs, the drifting sand, the ever creeping surging sea,
The violence of increasing storms…. and how it all impacts on me.

The polar ice in melting sheets cascades into high warming seas
Islands in Pacific sun now inundate with cruel ease.
Swathes of forest in Brazil encroached by axe and palm oil gain
Climatic balance counteracts to guarantee tomorrows pain.

The ocean strewn with plastic waste, choked in tides of human ****
Churning chimneys bellow forth across the blue globe, poisoning it.
Coal’s contaminants are burning holes across the crystal sky
And leaking nuclear waste contributes now… to killing you and I.

Wealth and politicians howl abuse at they who caution loud
Climate change, they disavow, is but a ploy to woo the crowd,
“**** the future for the now” is the mantra held by they
Who wield the club to rule the roost and pocket spoils themselves….today!

Overwealmed by monstrous change, management relinquish charge,
Service and supply collapse with climatic refugee collage.
Hurricane and wildfire spread in league with rising seas
Of course the leaders wring their hands and call on God to please, .....appease?

A vision of this shrunken earth with coastlines vastly higher now
With cities drowned, Atlantis like, where millions, dispossessed, do prowl,
Where law and order, gone, is now replaced by desperate **** and take,
Where the rich and famous bastion arms behind their futile walls of  hate.

Ask not for whom the bell tolls...It tolls for thee
M.
30 July 2019
New Zealand
President Obama’s Climate Action Plan

“We, the people, still believe that our obligations as Americans are not just to ourselves, but to all posterity . We will respond to the threat of climate change, knowing that the failure to do so would betray our children and future generations. Some may still deny the overwhelming judgment of science, but none can avoid the devastating impact of raging fires and crippling drought and more powerful storms. The path towards sustainable energy sources will be long and sometimes difficult. But America cannot resist this transition, we must lead it. We cannot cede to other nations the technology that will power new jobs and new industries, we must claim its promise. That’s how we will maintain our economic vitality and our national treasure - - our forests and waterways, our croplands and snow-capped peaks. That is how we will preserve our planet, commanded to our care by God. That’s what will lend meaning to the creed our fathers once declared.”—
President Obama, Second Inaugural Address, January 2013

*With an apology to Chris Hedges for a little duplicity here.*
Marshal Gebbie Jul 2018
How tenuous this grip we have, how slight our hold remains
When all around  loud braggards boast that power now pertains,
We see the banner headlines splashed across our daily rags
And redneck demonstrations cleans the streets of Spics and ****
When blood runs in the gutter as the battons rise and fall
And whilst taking tea in style the filthy rich ignore it all.
The blonde leader of our nation struts, postulates and brags
While the rest of us skive off around the corner smoking ****
Our  kids ingest confusion as they loiter on the street
Unknowing  our delusions make illusions held, replete.
How tenuous the grip we have, how slight our hold remains
As our allies shower cold distrust convinced our fault inflames.
What chance of clear redemption, what remedies revive
When truth is lost to darkness can our honesty survive?
Reputation cut to shards, confidences ******
That leaders of community no longer hold our trust
When white is caste as black and then to green and then to grey
And sanity refuses pontification one more day.
How tenuous the grip we have, how slight our holds remain
As twilight turns to darkness caste against a larks’ refrain.

M.
The White House
HAMILTON, New Zealand
25 July 2018
Despair across the nation, good people sitting quietly in their kitchens not quite believing the chaos and disunity sown by the White House amidst their communities, not knowing which way to turn to seek reason, to seek an element of promise for the morrow.

Who would have thought this possible in what was once, the greatest nation on Earth?

M.
Tis with a heavy heart I write
A transience of severed soul
For in the richness there abound
A vacuous and tethered hole.

Within, without, the treaded way
A long and winding road
A consequence of earthly stay
In shouldered heavy load.

That deep within the threaded mire
Divorced from that which sings,
Abandoned in the throng, entire,
Where right and wrong wear wings.

For thee and I must share the load,
Must wear the bleeding back
For happenstance, so long to goad,
When skin and bone hue black.

[email protected]
Marshal Gebbie Apr 2020
Dusk across a severed sea
Immortal tones impaling me,
Dulcet grey striated lines
Across horizon’s luscious wines,
Of setting sun in huge refrain
Melting into falling rain.
Exulting in this feel of brine
A-washing curling toes of mine,
This gentle wash on seashell shore
As wavelets surge in even score,
A symphony of tidal sound,
Enveloping in sense-surround.
And chorusing from arrowed flight
Of seabirds, overhead, As night
Advances with a first stars’ hue,
Imbued with velvet dreams of you.

M.
Morocco
May 1967
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