Cool grass

She
eschews shoes,
feet baring witness

Dissonance

You
scope out
the social landscape

calibrating
interaction's risk
with paranoia's perception

Hakanoa Street

When
living northern
hemisphere winter afternoons

I
would recall
Hakanoa Street summers

offering
shade sheltering
Plane tree leaves

to
the suburban
heat's asylum seekers

Moving on?

I have returned home
to my childhood's street
to the rhythm of youth
and my concrete cast feet

Where a penny lies
just a few houses away
in my grandmother's garage
where I used to play

I wanted

to
tear down
the nigrescent sky

totally
pulverise the
love song radio

drown
in duplicity's
legacy of longing

I
wanted to
rake your heart

Exploration

Digging deep into
the mind's abyss
you will find
a lot amiss

red and bloody
cut and run
lacerations
just for fun

barbed wire neckbrace
glass shard wrecks
pain and ecstasy
insane sex

Extremes

Beauty
is a
catalyst for reaction

Raising
desires of
nakedness and immersion

a
longing to
subsume and consume

To satisfy I
want to
bathe

naked in the
musselbeds of
Wednesday

and eat my
aged thesaurus
immediately

Longing

I want you

to make love

to me today

preferably in the kumara pits

so we can include the sun.

Deep fuck me

You know the one...

the slow... so slow...

deep... so deep

fuck

which reaches

that inner ache

of exquisiteness,

transcending

order and chaos,

...that nirvana moment

Sweetness

You
get up
to open cupboards

Searching
for fleeting
fixes of sweetness

I
seek belatedly,
to find emptiness

Wrappers,
offering absolutely
nothing at all


I
love your
obsession for chocolate

Remembering

My mind rotates
eyes crying
onto the old arm chair

Peeling paint
frames my memories

Spoon clicking
motor bike riding
jeans rubbing
tattoos destroyed
the smell of pub pies

Then the stiletto glare of a light bulb
cracks my thoughts

More Anger '83

Stuck at home
looking at the leaves
scattered on the floor
The clock ticks
I flick the flies from my arm
and seethe

Another life

No more nights
spent wandering the streets in the rain
searching for soul and maturity
spirituality and sanity

You are nearly forgotten now
Just a bad taste in my mouth
I was over your Cyprus reminiscing
and your red indian ramblings

Your cavalry cap has been dumped
your steel strings and guitar gone
The originals must stink now
like the memory of sunglasses, incense and red lights

Say goodbye to the mother and father
and hurray to the cream concrete walls
the wire wove mattress won't scream in agony,
as you toss and turn, anymore

Go home to your roots
where the bikes are companions
but don't forget to send the
25 bucks I lent you

Thursday

Lonely moon
hovering fully above the bridge
of the turquoise harbour
And the city speeds on
while its citizens
argue over the pinot gris
and the pinot noir

Jehovah's Witnesses

Here’s to you
your future’s planned
on your elitist world
in a fool’s paradise land

Addendum to Crashing Recognition

I feel extremely lucky
it wasn’t quite our time
but the injury I’ve got
is to make my poems rhyme

This ode is plainly hideous
but I really can’t be fussed
taste has left the building
and I must be quite concussed

Crashing Recognition

Driving up the northern
at sixty miles an hour
stopping for the roadworks
changing down the power

Bang, my head gets thrown back
foot stays hard on brake
eyes fly up to mirror
hands, legs begin to shake

You lost concentration
rammed your vehicle into mine
you rush to give your details
your license on the line

I get your registration
nose to tail, you are at fault
my head feels less than normal
after such a violent jolt

I recognised your face
when we swapped names today
you won Best Actress prize
from Feltex for a play

Rakino sojourn

Four,
you two, we two.
Like the wind,
from different directions,
blowing over our paths.
Together,
briefly.
Becoming familiar,
intimate.
Lives interweaving
during a Rakino sojourn.

Intimate offering

Take me down
into the heaves and rushes
of your tumultuous ponderances,
and I will, with willowed stick,
begone those noisome addlenigs.

Koru

Slivery and silvery,
tiny seashell pebbles
slip into my footprints
as I walk to the water,
where I bend to wash
the green of my pounamu
blessing it
and the meaning behind
our partnership that
it encapsulates.
The roar of the sea
sends the whip to my heart,
which pauses briefly,
fleetingly quiet
allowing the ache of our love
to return and return

Nicholas - 1

You are wet from school
I lift my ironing tired arms
to tousle your hair