Dr. Charles Frederickson

MUD SLIDE

Whole villages slither by downhearted
Desperate needy souls without recourse
Abandoned huts cling to hillsides
Knee deep red clay slicks

Stray dogs buried under rubble
Cherished family heirlooms grime infested
Pet songbird trapped behind bars
Gold cage exposing blackened ribs

Picking up bits and pieces
Of beloved lives devastatingly lost
Decomposed bodies clear tarpaulin mummies
Unceremoniously dumped in mass graves

Rancid stench permeating burial mounds
Grief-stricken anxiously trying to cope
Calloused hands digging through debris
Tragic avalanche reeking sorrowful guilt

Flooding heavy rains preceded disaster
Sheer bluff came crashing down
Shaky grip gritty cliff hangers-on
Struggling to rebuild eroded future

Kim Randell

MAUNGAKEIKEI

A singing axe made naked Maungakeikei,
Some settler men a sacred Totara killed.
The grief of Tane Mahuta was vented,
And Rongo wept upon that naked hill.

Those Pakeha then realized their error
Of desecrating Maungakeikei's crown.
To ease the grief of Tangata Whenua,
A pine from Monterey was bedded down.

It grew to massive size, that sacred pine tree,
And shaded Maungakeikei from the sun.
Tane Mahuta had smiled upon it
And made sure that his curse was well undone.

Then came a man of very twisted vision,
Who saw himself a warrior of the past.
Imagined all the warpaint and the feathers,
Attacked poor Maungakeikei in the dark.

The shadow of his moku echoes visions
Of imaginary battles with his foes.
Their juices stain his chin in feasts of conquest,
It's how, in his skewed mind, his mana grows.

He grunts and wields his mere with conviction.
It roars and spins its hungry metal teeth.
Chewing through the whiteness of the tree-flesh,
Carpeting the ground like snow beneath.

That pine tree through its stature had grown tapu.
A child of Tane Mahuta indeed!
The twisted one could not cut through at that time,
But struck a mortal blow that would succeed.

Six years it took before that pine tree's passing,
A time to stand in awe and say farewell.
Tane Mahuta's new child will grow there,
And once again we'll see our One Tree Hill.

© Kim Randell 2005

Nicholas Alexander

Danger Signs

That droning sound can only be one thing
It is time to go down and be amoung
our family

Discuss the tedium of hours
away from the privacy of our rooms

What we call individuality
Sacrificed lest yet for our safety
Mutual respect for our spaces
Ahead of the dignity of graces

we call on the memory
of our heroes instead
as our neighbors die
explosions above their
heads and stones

buildings can be rebuilt
innocence
cannot.

5:10 Aug 19th

Bernie Kyle

THE SPORTING LIFE.
By
Bernard V Kyle
[C] 2005


Now Rugby will never Bug me,
While the Ticket for Some, is the Cricket,
If you're Seven Feet Tall, there's Basketball,
And Soccer, if you Just want to Kick it !

That Tennis is Surely a Menace,
For those who Remain Overweight,
And a Fast Game of Squash, Oh Golly Gosh,
Needs Coronaries that can Dilate !

Cards are attractive, if you are Inactive,
And Darts, will minimize Strain,
Weight lifting of course, Needs the strength of a Horse,
And Chess needs a Brain - in the Main..

There's many a Sporting Attraction,
And Games with no Effort, I'm Told,
But surely your Health and Maybe your Wealth,
Will improve, if you'll just get Involved !

Now Gambling on Sport is a Problem,
It's even less Certain than Shares,
One day you'll be making a Fortune,
While next, you'll be selling your Wares..

This Watching the Sport on the Telly,
With a "Tinny" or two in the Hand,
Will Bring you No Bruising and maybe some Snoozing,
So Appeals to an Increasing Band.

But don't be a damned Couch Potato,
Get out and Give it a Go,
You don't have to be a John Walker,
Or even a Florence Flo Jo !!

There's good Reason for being a Player,
And Getting involved in some Sport,
The Effort involved, you need to be Told,
Could Delay the Day of "La Mort. "

Now you may be as old as a Grandpa,
Yet Sport, can be One of your Goals,
You can Ruin the Walk, by Playing some Golf,
Or get on with Playing some Bowls,

But Whatever your Age it's Important,
To Function as Well as you Can,
So give it a Go and ere long you Know,
You'll be more than an old Also Ran..

Yet Athletes need to Remember,
And it's True, for All who will See,
One day you'll rank as the 'Top Dog,'
While Next, The Fire Hydrant You'll be !!

********

Gemma Millar

Among the apples


Among the apples sat a fresh young leaf,
Through the branches,
To the ocean she could see,
The fruit pickers came,
Time and again,
Over the years, stealing her friends.
The young leaf wallowed, as she began to age,
And spent all her time thinking about that day…
That day, when she nearly left home,
The day she decided it was time to go,
The ocean was calling,
Begging her to come and play,
She had been too scared, and decided to stay.
Now all her friends had gone,
And on her own she stayed.
The ocean didn’t call anymore,
And the pickers didn’t come,
The apples were not plentiful,
As to the years, the tree had succumbed.
So the leaf sat each day on her branch,
Wishing she had left, when she had the chance.
Knowing her thoughts would get her nowhere,
She broke her own twig, and fell through the air.
She assumed she was to fall to her death,
When suddenly she realised, she hadn’t hit the ground yet.
With slight hesitation, she looked around,
The ground beneath, was far to be found.
She let her veins relax, as the wind held her tight,
She felt safe and secure, and let go of her fright.
The salty breeze, engulfed her at once,
She enjoyed this feeling, as in the wind she spun.
Her friend the wind carried her to the ocean, where she had never gone.
When she asked is this the end?
He replied, no, you’ve only just begun.

Late 2005.

The news between lands

Did you know the entire South Island was quaranteened for didymo?

I had to carefully consider if I had any to declare, but nobody seemed to be listening anyway and I did not like it on my salad. Seaweed is infinitely better, and you do not really have to declare it as you tend to get it on the way, not from another land, per se, but from the misty aft, the places in between where it is neither day nor night, living or dying, black or light.

Dr Charles Frederickson

Seashells

Sand pebbles stretched azure tiderip
Vacant shells winding staircase evacuations
Homeless crawling into glazed carapace
Disoriented strangers forwarding address unknown

Black oyster pearl scooped out
Carried away by abandoned echo
Accompanied by bivalve mussel castanets
Break dancing surf’s humdrum beat

Fossiliferous beaches embedding piscine spirals
Seascape riddled with sedimentary boredom
Fabulist enigmatic true grit mercreatures
Cerulean wrapped in fetal seaweed

Composite dolphin equine sea mini-monster
Tiny hippocampus saddled bony plates
Cyan white caps Neptune ridden
Grasping prehensile comet tail reins

Bone dry skeletons craving tans
Burnishing driftwood into petrified agate
Barefoot print traces wiped out
Sluggish frothy wake waving goodbye

Bernie Kyle

TERRORISM,
By
Bernard V Kyle.
[C]2002


They Walk, They Stalk, There's Covert Talk,
They Hide, they Sneak . They Drive,
They Board the Bus, without a Fuss
And amongst themselves, Connive.

What Hatred fuels their Evil Deeds,
No Religion Preaches Thus !
For Children Die or Injured lie,
When a Bomb destroys a Bus.

Their Targets know no Earthly Bounds,
A Train, A Plane ! A Tower !
Such Heinous Deeds against men's Creeds,
The Peaceful must Empower.

For Peoples are Irate, Incensed,
And Countries Mobilise,
But the Fear must be that, Uncontrolled,
The World could Vaporise !.

For the World now has, both Neutron Power,
And Destructive forms so Vast,
That set upon the World at Large,
Each Day could be our Last.

So Terror must De- escalate,
And The Drums of War must Deaden,
Or Terror in this World of Ours
Will lead to Armageddon

Charles Frederickson

Past Present

1
Scurrying crabs reclaim shell-shocked sandscape
Before faltering light burns out
Heritage shucked lustrous pearls looted
Snapping turtle eggs burial crypts

Unhealed scars heroic pulsating veins
Sliding down ribcage bunker cave-ins
Combat fatigue mindful of revenge
Sweaty sniper bullet casing souvenirs

Claptrap pincers fill check-out vacancies
Empty conches staring hunger down
Tubular organs grinding to halt
Siphoned off lifeblood drained dry

2
Ziggurat temple honored god Marduk
Beyond reach towers spiraling heavenward
Straw-mud bricks slimy bitumen mortar
Gates to afterlife garland festooned

Once fertile Mesopotamian Shinar plain
Etemennanki furlong square Hanging Gardens
Ancient world’s wondrous terraced flora
Babylonia yearning to breathe free

Eons of devastating warfare later
Foundation rubblework bed left unmade
Idle chatter gobbledygook wise cracks
Slow fixes doomed to anarchy

3
Fabulous Assyrian lapis lazuli inlay
Nine heads eleven horns scarlet
Scaly wings swishy serpentine tail
Beast ascended from bottomless pit

Glorified visions faded revelations blindsided
Monster slain by double-edged sword
Decadent hedonistic orgies lustful revelry
Parched lips kismet fatal kiss-offs

Final conflict lamb ultimately victorious
Universal God’s prophetic covenant restored
Hell-bent on winning lost cause
Retributive martyrdom lying in wait

Jan Oscar Hansen

Disturbed Sleep

police sirens tore into the night and
darkness undulated,

flooded shop
entrances and yards before settling
back to black mirror;

stars snowed
in the outer galaxy, a few fell into
streets, glowed, like malignly ember,
on asphalt;

a widow looked out into
the street below with total disinterest,
drew curtains and went back to sleep;

silence dripped from old roof tiles,
kept the lonely awake.

Nicholas Alexander

Time Ends

Time ends for everybody
At the end we hear the kind words
of Family and Friends

at the end

Before we fall we may suffer
but afterward, we lie in peace

Keeping ourselves
in daylight

Leaving our skin under skylight
our brittle bones no longer matter
our exposures and sins no longer
count against us

Our diseases now dormant
our selves liberated

no longer home
no longer there
lying there still and silent

Bernie Kyle

Supplementation.
by
Bernard V Kyle © 2004


Now worldly wealth, is naught without health,
So I'm researching supplementation,
It appears there's a pill for nigh ev'ry ill,
That afflict the folk of this nation.

There's vitamins A B & C, along with mixed E,
And the help of the sun to make D,
But please heed the need, of a frequent fish feed,
To provide your Omega 3!


Now I really should state the need for folate,
The minerals, iron, & protein,
But feel free with green tea, and if you agree,
Limit the carbs & caffeine.

I need glutathione, then calcium for bone,
With antioxidants being discussed,
And I've given a pledge to increase fruit and veg.,
So I think that I'm getting things sussed !

But I really should say, that we need A.L.A,,
And probiotics are being applauded,
But where'er I look, in many a book,
There are so many things being lauded.

But what's this I see, the right one for me ?
This resveratrol stuff, sounds fine,
I may sound morose, but I could overdose,
For it's here, in my glass of red wine !!

So I'll abandon my quest. For that which is best,
And the search for this, that, and the other,
For with great self denial, I'll run a 'resveratrol trial'
And bequeath all those books to another.

**********

Winds of Tremor

Sacred Eyes
Known only to one
is a Gift bestowed,

Wondering if this is the right stage
where I should be,
A display for all to see,

Here I am
take me now
A ticket to the show is the deed
So please one of you,
send it to me.

Richard Taylor

the machine music moves mechanically as it must because it is
beautiful and is based on a legal system of repeats but nothing is
yet for sure why should it be after all the law of torts and the
thinking Thinking Thing is there, and we are part of it despite
seclusion like a sheep’s or a boffin’s head, in a vision of perfect
symmetry held in a white drop as if we could know’it all, and there’s
need for change, but who looks on, and who is who who he looks at who
he looks is who — but we need all these people who don’t agree because
of the machine, which, despite its penetential and inevitable
inefficiency, is heard to cry out at deep of night to the Great One
who is probably dead and ensconced in a dream of lubricated, or
lubricious cavortings toward spittle. and flesh, words that send
shudders up my spire wire’s spine loom; one would naturally much
prefer to be the vision inside a technical robot, whose doom scenes
see wire mass everywhere, and, how does the spider know, because he,
too, is a constructor - or is it because the music nags us back down
the drain pipe into a parallel universe of incomprehensible equations,
or a crazed jumble of electronic, electrical, and machine parts
pushed into an elected enclave, whose triumph is its denseness, or the
enormous significance of an endlessly looping musical track which your
great great grandmother could well have enjoyed: some post—
Stochausian, post- Varese etc, not something tame like.the Songs for a
Mad King: but it all passes, even the wind machines, and the ape-
shaped eyes, thoughts of death, leaves, corpse valleys, memories,
inscriptions.. .you turn back to The Romantics, for there is something
about you, something nobody can see: as if you were the one in the
centre of a gigantic sound-shriek, and batting up all hell, and no one
gives a fuck, especially with everything turning into grey
gold. . .something like a cat looking into your face.

'machine music' by Richard Taylor