Tuesday, December 13, 2011

A little Scratch.

A little scratch it can ratchet
To a full blown infection.
The week and the weakened
Deserved our protection.
We stood by, and we watched it,
Now we want salvation.
As the recession deepens
We fight the predation,
As the banks and the rich
Are circling the nation,
Hoarding jobs, stealing freedoms,
And evading taxation.
Why didn’t we ever stop and think,
Society’s only as strong as it’s weakest link.

Saturday, March 26, 2011

Mother 11/03/2011 (Fukushima)


Buckle loosened, your amniotic burden shifts,
Your taut flesh ripples and salty swells heave.
You groan and shudder, skulls crush and bones cleave.
Breathless, the blue red bloody unraveling begins.
Phobos, Deimos, Mars, sunrise, unquenchable fires,
Fissures, ruptures, the crushing pain torn lode.

Your tears.

Thursday, April 23, 2009

Audio Blog

Have created a new blog featuring various groups in which I have been involved, and also many of the poems here, as a source of lyrics, for more recent solo works under the Crunchy Weta monicker.
Step into the tardis.

Saturday, July 05, 2008

Late Home From The Party

Call me a skeptic

but I was untouched

by your dramatic performance.

Untouched too

by the toxic bile

masquerading as truth

you disengorged

from that grotesque crevice

between your bitter lips...

...lips that once softened hardness

and ravaged mortal dreams.

Call me a skeptic,

but I was never aware

that nagging vanities

are cause for an affair.

Download the audio here

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One Two Three

I was annoyed, mostly, I realized, because I was impressed.
His reputation, even among his few remaining supporters...
..Immune! Christ, somehow there was enough money floating
To give away a shilling or to do a good action.
Provoke him and he will buckle to a shark,
Appear, to survey, to bless, to command; dominus and domaine.
Always intrudes and imposes his views,
His face, 'Take a look.' All at once he grabbed it back.
This attitude lifted the I Ching above the level of an ordinary.....
..Reputation was so damaged, it was an easy matter.
From the heart of Vajra Sattva the white light path of the mirror like wisdom,
Took a grotesque form
And told me to cut everything into little pieces.

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Helen's Butterfly Dance

The Prime Minister, performing perfunctorily
passed through my class.
Softly spoken.
Closeted by her henchman,
Glazed with indifference,
Pausing to ask a question,
Verging on the rhetorical,
Interest ephemeral.

Perhaps she caught my cold.

Sunday, September 09, 2007

Magic Moon Night

How precious
Your blanket wrapped
Prancing jumpskip excitement.
Our little back porch expeditions
to watch crawling dark devour
Delicious strawberry moon.
The Milky Way tickled your palette.
The milky way?... oooh The Milky Way!
How long until your faccia rossa
Will pass through life's umbra
Unable to savour galactic fare
But reflected through
Your child's shining moonlit eyes.

Thursday, July 26, 2007

Warm Air Above, Dew Point Below.

Watching fog's first veil rising timidly
From grassy paddock's patches
Sweeping surreptitiously around the shy valley,
I am reminded of smokers, sitting outside cafes
Trying to hide their guilty secrets
In awkward, downturned, downwind hands,
Novice gambler's hands.

I am reminded that the Milky Way
Once wafted over the Southern Cross
Before being stolen by city lights.

How I long to see smokers standing proud
Animated extroverted and oblivious
Shining social magnets, blazing,
....wherever shooting stars go

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Friday, June 29, 2007

More On My Mythic Hythlodayin Drive To Work.

Asphalt steers me from Mamaku to Reporoa
Across this country's naked heart
Pulse exposed, beaten by Maui's brothers
Tendered with Aroha.

Mamaku mountainettes, an ancient valley of kings
Mysterious geyser tombs, or mudpools, or mini-volcanoes
Calling down the frosts, fogs and clouds
The old one's mantle of mana.

And you, Ngongotaha, Es tu kia kaha
Proud amongst your peoples
Head in the clouds
On days you cry for Hinemoa.

Weaving through a fogbound quilt
Rolling hills stitched with naked birch
A patchwork swandri of exotic pines
Ruffling Rainbow Mountain's disgorged shoulder.

The fiery breath of rivers rises through the frosty fresh
Kerosesne Creek heralding Waiotapu
Her jewels scattered, spilled across the valley
Her irridescent palette, geochemical emotions erupting.

Beyond a battalion of beheaded mountain sentinels
Reporoa's plains unfurl from purple fog
A series of bucolic winter allegories
From those anachronistic Christmas cards.

I expect sun-sized smiley faces
To cascade over the hillside surrounds
Congratulations for winning solitaire
Finding my mythic eutopos outopos.

Monday, May 07, 2007

Time To Plant Trees

High in the hills
Thoughts come slowly
Clouds rush by.

Ambling drifts of nameless days
Roll nature's kaleidoscope
Then rumble into town
An avalanche of need.

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Soft Geometry

Today, rain's grey monologue
Tucks me sweetly, gently
Under Morphia's fleecy billow.

Today, work can wait
The bellbirds are quiet as
Earth and sky are truced.

Soft the grey
Soft the grey
Soft the grey.

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The Lab Rat and The Mad Professor

In Mamaku
Verdant perspecacity
Warmed by honey tea
City sickness leaving me;
Time pinched cluttered brain
Battery housing
Moving metal things
Temples pulsing neighbour's thoughts
Pickled lungs particulate matter
The droning droning drone
Surreal fields of malls
Shop forest paths
Food eating halls
How strange, trained
Two legged rats
Driving in mazes
Racing their wheels.

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Monday, February 26, 2007

Fat Hairy Man At The Beach

Hefting my carriage
From the seas salt laden sanctuary
My Dayself as exposed
As the eternal shadows
Cast on Hiroshima's walls
I know I am not enlightened.

My Nightself - my eyes
Bow uncomfortably
'Neath beauty's harsh light
Seeking Bolle-yellow relief.

How many comments, and looks,
Slid over me
Before I began to care
Blinded and bound by conformity's rack.

Under night's majesty and grace
I forget myself
Dancing with naked joy
My phoenix risen
I taste the stars
Letting the universe breathe me in.

O Dayself, forget the light.
O Universe, breathe me in.
Breathe me in.

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Monday, February 12, 2007

Dreaming Of Photographs - The Miraculous Truth.

The congealed despair
Of amputees' prayer
Staining the collection plate
A bowl in the rain
Under umbrella's train.
White coated doctors
Armed with syringes
Loaded with miracles
Battling the scourges
Exorcising, healing
Not wielding or yielding
Cloth bound superstition.
The lone man who missed his flight
Ringed by 357 flaming remains
Of those who didn't.
Concentric waves of stillborn
Diseased famined and fateful
Bullseyes beneath
Question marks
Aimed at the heart of the
Miracle breathing tongue speaking

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Resurrection Of A Warholian Banana

The incident was incidental
The result resultant
On a roundabout
Taking her out
On you.
Initialised by her eyes
Hair there and everywhere
My mishmash headlong crash
Solved unresolved
Taking you out
On her.

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Clowns On Wheels

Big cogs, little cogs
Unbroken karmic cycles
High wire through fire
Free wheelin horn tootin
Bell ringin crowd pleasin
High fivin harlequinian
Clowns on wheels.

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Thursday, December 21, 2006

The Quantum Mechanic Falls Head Over Heels.

she spins profusely
diffusing energy
in a bounded space
never to cross paths.

Her partner
in this magnetic moment
tumbles synchronously
minds melded fast-
er than light.

Distance shared-sheared
distance shed
a tear for the laws
of minds
blind to the heart
of this matter.

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Meowry Christmouse Santa Paws.

Livid stops garish sprites
Cascading neophytes
Fool spectre delivery
Count the cells in cider me
Corpus collosal menagerie.

Fate dashed upon the rocks
Boot straps to the chin ups
Best forward it foot
Down the tracked one mind
Found alone I die alone
Ranger than striction
Narcisstic addiction
Pleased to meet me
For all internally.

A scratch looking for an itch
Burning touch tapping drip
A head by a nose you ear
Daren't call me a Picasso
Injust to say so
Swat I'm fly

Tuesday, November 14, 2006


The juiciest part of the snail
Is just beneath the shell.
Moving house is metamorphic
I have spun myself into a cocoon
The tattered hoardings of yesteryear.

Departure lounge:
Bittersweet letters of first love lost
Unread for a quarter century,
Posters of bands long defunct,
Shelves of books read,
Bus tickets, bar coasters, keys, id cards
Ephemeral jetsetting tokens,
Lecture notes no longer understood,
Apparrel from the 'Tus Mall' and 'Neverin' ranges,
Embarrassing diaries with secret marks
Plotting dietary battles,
Hand me down furnishings and near antiques.

In Transit:
Vinyl, CDs, instruments
Every recording we ever made
As alternative now as ever,
Paice Ave doodle book,
Poems, paintings, gifts, tools,
My collection of children
Two and two thirds to date,
Aging address books
Wildly innaccurate,
Top drawer contents
Useful, required on occasion,
Non fiction and gardening magazines
More reliable than the web,
Complete scifi works of Phillip K Dick,

Wings need to harden
Before they stretch and fly.

Arterialsclerosis In the Heart of the City

Apartment blocks shoulder to shoulder
craning necks for better glimpses
listening to strenuous motorways
articulating anger and aggression
carrying auto corpuscular mobiles.
The city's pacemaker disgorges
clogging congested arterials
feeding suburban organs
infusing tissues and viscera -
a land long stripped
of lush.

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Saturday, November 11, 2006

Hospital Girl In Waiting.

Her pet Ipod nibbles on her tiny ears
Whispering sweet nothings.
Her thumb dances nimbly
Textualizing shallow depths
Of superficial intimacy
Shared through the ether.
She waits urgently for the next hit
Of belonging.

The long forgotten question "why"
Lies gnarled and arthritic in a drawer
Beneath her premillennial photographs
-on paper!
Of bare footed days
And birthday parties
With homemade cakes
And laughing friends.

A great judge of character,
Today, she is people watching.
'You can tell a lot about a person
by their skins and ringtones,
and how casually they display their labels.'
Her ride, a lime green beetle, appears
And she is gone.

Wednesday, October 25, 2006

Delcilia Won't Stop Screamin.

Shut up. Just shut the fuck up!
For christs sake stop snivellin.


I don't care.
Stay covered in shit.
You'll bloody well learn.


You want clean,
I'll give you bloody clean.
And stop your mangy whimpering.
You little shit.

Aww burny burny
Poor baby fucken burny.


Now shut up you hear.
I better not hear another fucken sound.


You little shit.
Hope you fucken die.

Come on mate, crack open another...

For Delcilia

Thursday, October 05, 2006

Pilonidal abscess

How painful, how embareassing.

To the first doctor:
Great, you would be one of the parents
on my playcentre session.

To the second doctor:
You were nice.

To the third doctor:
You cracked me up
asking if you could butt in
because you had heard about me.

To the nurse:
Thanks for taking two attempts to find a vein.
Thanks for being so cool. I almost thought it normal
to feel like I was having a heart attack
after you pumped the erythromycin
so quickly into my arm. I barely remember
you administering the ECG and leaving me
to experience the crushing chest pains.
I'm glad that I only experienced one symptom
of anaphylactic shock. Wouldn't want to concern you
overly. But really , thanks , my life has been brighter
since this morning.

To the surgeon:
I used to think the surgeons arrogance
portrayed on Shortland Street*
was just a dramatic device.
I could feel the hand of god
speaking behind your voice
so commanding decisive
in your suit
deciding to delay
to some future day
the cleansing of my 'irritation'.
Sure I'll come back if it becomes a problem before then.
I do appreciate your priorities.

Finally, on behalf of myself and my underwear,
I would like to thank all
four doctors, two nurses and a surgeon
over two days at the hospital
for letting pus and blood
and congeal
and ooze
down my natal cleft
without once
ever cleaning
or dressing...

Your humble patient.

What you don't want to know

* a local soap

Wednesday, September 27, 2006

Robogenesis 1 v.27

Man created robots after his own image,
in his divine image he created them.

And all the robots
Were in communion.

And those looking
for love
sat on the left
in rows.

And those seeking
sat in the middle

And those googling
sat on the right

And the losers
stood at the rear
with the program

And how the midi enabled
did manifest
their unison
in heavenly chorus.

And how the high
priest of A.I.
did sway
and collect.

Man looked at everything he had made
and he found it very good.
Evening came
And morning followed...
The sixth day.

Here is a tune about robots manifesting their heavenly midi enabled chorus

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Monday, September 18, 2006

Half The Population Are Crazier Than Average.

Being different
Is a crime
To be the same
Is quite insane
So feel free
To take the pills
Get wired up
To cure yo' ills
(And help the doctor pay the bills)
There's no doubt
Who'll win this game
To crush the spirit
With your name.

Late Home From The Party.

Call me a skeptic
but I was untouched
by your dramatic performance.

Untouched too
by the toxic bile
masquerading as truth
you disengorged
from that grotesque crevice
between your bitter lips...

...lips that once softened hardness
and ravaged mortal dreams.

Call me a skeptic,
but I was never aware
that nagging vanities
are cause for an affair.

(Poem had to include the words toxic, aware, ravaged, dramatic and skeptic)

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Friday, September 15, 2006

The Cosmic Glove..

This universe
fits together
though no two pieces
are the same.

This hand
writes words
though no two atoms
actually touch.

This heart
feels love
though love itself
has no matter.

This life
is mine
though it exists
only through sharing.

What can I give you
you don't already have?


The Poets Ball.

Seems there's a conspiracy
On display for all to see
A secret love society
Using rhyme in poetry.

The way they make their couplets dance
Seems more to me than just plain chance
With meaning deep beyond first glance
A tryst of words and circumstance.

On a tennis green so well made
A finer match was never played
Love Love all upon the glade
And then a fond adieu was bade.

Now those of us here held in thrall
Can read the writing on the wall.

Thursday, September 07, 2006

Wearing Altruist Jeans.

Is it karma
that begets beggars
for faults deserved.

Is it expectation
that given is got
for good deeds done
in triple wicca fashion
or orange robes wound
round rotund non-desires.

Is it desire to be loved
insisting assistance
upon others less loved
or less able.

Aren't you the dear
attracting lion eyes
exposing your rump
is it your turn to jump.

Are you the centre
where universal love
drops in and out
because thats all there is.

Are you so bad
You compensate
and over contemplate
your dishonesty
and differences.

Does your god
make you guilty
or promise plenty
speaking sweetly
of sufferings mystery
and the lions misery
due slaughters destiny.

Perhaps you just hear
a voice
that isn't yours.

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Monday, September 04, 2006


Social condition
Struck by lightning
God did it/electrocution
Like all my pretty bubbles.

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Absence Note

I am not here today.
fills my mind
with thoughts
posing their veracity.

Thursday, August 31, 2006

Sister Of Sonic Youth. ( PKD Remix)

The policeman,
tears flowing,
the dark horizon.
"Time out for a joint.",
"Safer than crack in space."
It's glue that holds the tracks and cracks
of our lives

Wednesday, August 30, 2006


one day

you too


(In reply to Housemouse - Brevity)


Monday, August 28, 2006

Tale End Of Winters Ministries.

As the shutters open
I become porous anew
Your my thoughts
Arouse relaxation
Filtering darkness
Wandering along a track
Spritely on the still soft
And sphagnum
Playing limpet
With the mighty ones
Rich, red, resins
My your words
Alighting softly aglow
Tender upon our koru.

Thanks Billy

Just a wee note to thank Billy for his link to Forward Press in the UK. They are publishing one of my poems (Lighten Your Load: Go Easy On Yourself) in their book "Inspired Reflections 2007". This will be my first so I just might have a wee glass of wine to celebrate. My advice - listen to your mayor!

Thursday, August 10, 2006

Muriwai and the Crystal Ray Sky.

Sulfur crowned gannets
Raining like brimstone
Having sown wild oats
Two thousand km away
Honing their flints
With pearlers and bounders
Return to fight, for a
Place in purgatory
Their mere centimetres square
Of guano-coated bedrock
Spearhead since '95...


... one of those sugary crystal ray days
On a roll, you stroll down the beach
To the praise of the waves
Where they overtake the island
With sun-drenched clarity, you continue
Onwards with Moses' authority, and
The waves recede, as you knew they would
Further back than they possibly should
You continue, to the western outreach
Entering the cave through rocky teeth
Somehow still dry, now sharply aware;
Brain keening dangers, the value of air
The fact that blind faith has found you
In here...

..shining with light, no turning back
Stuck to the fate of your one minded track
Waves returning, hailing rebirth,
A final distraction, lies there on the earth
A friend's body - The cost of this tour
(You stupid stupid bastard!!!) (adrenalin surge)
Fortunately though, a fleeting apparition
A warning against mission's repetition...

Coming full circle, feet still dry
You smile to yourself
And the crystal ray sky
And the sparkling black sands
Along Muriwai
Where sulfur crowned gannets
Continue to reign
And the praise of the waves
Will always remain.

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Bryanna Visits Snow Planet.

I know a man who isn't here
I rather doubt he's anywhere
For those of you who do not know
That man was made all out of snow.

Wednesday, July 26, 2006

Words - Haiku

Words are like lava
sometimes a red hot liquid
sometimes hard as rock

Monday, July 24, 2006

Heart String Theory

Dimension 0: From the void , the point of my existence.
Dimension 1: The line - the big I. I am.

Dimension 2: Fragments of being. My mind is split, my heart is broken. Continents drifting apart on a map

Dimension 3: Turning in space. Your image frozen. A collection of movie stills.

Dimension 4: The life I lead. My tube connects with yours, intersecting at stations.

Dimension 5: Choices made. Or not. I married you. I never met you - I turned to pick a flower as you picked another.

Dimension 6: Hairs on an anemone's tentacle. In this life I say hello as I walk past you, arm in arm with Jimi, Albert, Marilyn and Mary.

Dimension 7: The doors of my first infinity shrink to a dot. I don't always find you. The timing is all wrong on most paths in this universe. I die in so many ways.

Dimension 8: Different beginnings, different endings, different infinities, different universes. Mysteriously we are still connected.

Dimension 9: As I lower myself to search for you I crumple and fold, falling from one eighth dimensional infinity to another, forever.

Dimension 10: Nowhere else to go. All our possible possibilities and impossible impossibilities become the dot above the i in time and infinity. Our heartstrings vibrating in the tenth dimension create our subatomic existence.

In the mirror of your eyes I see me.

The Unknown version

Crunchy Weta Version

A fantastic animated overview of the eleven dimensions

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Tuesday, July 18, 2006

The Man Who Wasn't There

For Ashraf and family

I remember walking, then nothing, then
a crack thud cacophony and unholy heat
flesh rent and welded, yielding
macabre meat mash sculptures
carelessy flung upon adze edged mounds
ex-spaces ex-homes ex-lives ex-posed.
With nacrous eyes and metallic mouth I rose.
I noted my legs moved - but not for long.
I collapsed, grateful for the advice to lie down,
and the warm blanket offered.
In the dust, I found myself lost.

What can be named that doesn't exist?

A soft fog dissolves first the edges
then the material of my matter
I am haunted by dim bells and Gregorian chants
A faint scent of dew-bound Magnolia
sweetens my breath and slowly numbs my nose
My hands gently folded,
I rest in peace.

When Words Are Not Enough - Warning:Graphic Reality 1 2 3 4

Save Lebanon

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Sunday, July 16, 2006

Ringing Of The Bards IV : Let the feast begin.

Welcome to Ringing Of The Bards IV.
Tonight we have a feast of poetry for your enjoyment and consideration. Before we begin I would just like to extend our best wishes to a few poet's family members. To Scheherazade's mother who is not well, to my own father who is in hospital, and to Ashraf's family who have been living in Beirut. Those of you accustomed to saying grace before eating may wish to put in a word.
First up we have Katy who wants to make a special request on behalf of Ashraf. He’s from Lebanon, which as you know has recently been attacked. She wrote a poem for him called Ummi (which is Arabic for mother).
Now, on the table in front of you, you will notice some special Water as provided by Rohn. Abhay has provided some "bread for the family" with his tale The Old Lady From Far.Billy likes his bread buttered but his kids like their's Toasted. Has Shirley provided honey for the bread? Read her poem Things That Sting to find out.
Bob of Average Poet and also a musician is providing ,usical accompionment with his Concert. Between courses Michael P Steven observes "the passing guest, who pauses to admire the music & smell the fancy food.." in his poem Sonnet. The delicacy known as Crunchy Weta replies to him with a discussion of their last dinner get together.
As the main courses are brought out Bryan Coffelt likes his Hearty Stew of Truth Hot! and disgusts all the guests with "famished dogs gnawed on orphan toys". Stonepoem not to be outdone, hints at cannibal treats in the poem Consume Immediately. Talk like this sends Swan reeling and she wonders if Famine is not a better option.
Well naturally with these sorts of conversations going on, talk soon turns to the serious matters of death and wars. Ozymandiaz - "I was building bombsWith thoughts and ideasLighting fuses with words"gives us apocraphyl. The Poetryman from Poetic Justice gives us Echoes of London. Brian talks about Fighter Pilots. Erin responds with a heartfelt Cenotaphs - complete with audio.
Desert brings a lighter mood to our table. Ian gives us a beautiful wobbly green jelly. Travis refreshes our palates with a slightly wicked Cheese Fetish.
Cecilia who has so far graced our table very quietly, suddenly asks if we can See Me - is she talking about the dishwashers out the back when she says
"she doesn’t know
if truth is good
when scrubbed like that"
Read on to find out!
Finally, before we all shuffle out into the cold night air, Ashraf stands and delivers a poignant Reasons and leaves us with the question - Isn't that why we write after all, in order not to feel alone?

Next weeks Ringing of The Bards is being held at Cecilia's place. I also note that the slot for July 29th is still open for a host. Why not give it a try!

Monday, July 10, 2006

In Dependence Of Mass Destruction And Mass Production.

You were a petulant child
When you cut your mother's apron strings
On July 4th.
Free at last
To carve your way
To riches and glory
Through native lands
Yanking God's bells
With chains of black men:
Mass production
And mass destruction.

Now look at you

Free to bear arms and kill
In your own country
Or any other of your choosing.
Free to ignore the United Nations
And global warming.
Free to consume
Forty percent of the world's resources.
Free trade peddlers behind protectionist doors.

A brotherhood of multinationals
And arms dealers touting WOMADS
And more rounds of ammunition
Than there are human beings
Per Annum.

You have so many kinds
And not so kinds.

Now look at you.

In dependence
On oil
Laws and Lawyers (Oh how you value liberty)
Nuclear weapons for security
Nuclear electricity
Current deficits and alien immigrantry.

WAKE UP America.
Smell the thermonuclear coffee.
Get off your LAZY burger buns
And show the world
THINK. Mass action.


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Over the Hump.

Enough navel gazing and grazing.
Name the game then do what you do.
It's time to dance with the flowers
and play with the auras of trees
and focus the will: get on with the giving




and bend and stretch and bend and stretch and




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Friday, July 07, 2006

Mad Woman and Dobermen (Apologies to Joe)

For Leigh Who Was There.

She, garbed in velvet dresses
Strawberry blonde her crowning tresses
- fire and ice - sugar and spice
Constructed herself a castle.
A fortress with walls of her own logic
Reinforced by twisted steel.
Below, the foundations,
Dark dungeons of despicable depravity
Where demons lurked and gnawed.
Above, turrets of torments past,
Always on the lookout.
She cherished her precious red jewel
And her trustworthy Doberman
Flawless in her devotion.

Her prince, having pledged his fealty,
Thus boundbyher laws of gangland loyalty
His love always one step beneath her trust,
Watched his friends picked off
One by one
By perceived but imaginary lusts.
On and on ad ultimatum.

The doberman, faithful to a fault,
Channelling her psyche,
Hounded his friends at the gates.
Their visits admissions of guilt
Evidenced by calls to justice
Fear and unfair.

Ironically her logic was infallible. Indeed

The call of his friend
Who'd cried his departure
Was the key to the end
Of this no win disaster.
Humbled by the lessons learned
A man emerged, Scarred and burned.
The princess though tis sad to say
Is none the wiser to this day.

Version By The Unknown

Version By Crunchy Weta

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Tuesday, July 04, 2006

Still Life

Another rainy Macy Gray
music dripping down
tearing, rendering anew
a wine bottle collage
harvests forgotten

Continued writing the book
"Everything I Ever Thought"
Unabridged, unadorned'
a manual of slothosophy
existential reality tactics

As I remember oneness
there is nothing to be relative
time stops and ego dissolves
Yet. There is a fluidity
in the rigidity
of still life.

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If I knew Then...

Or: Occaional snapshots from a journey through the heartlands of old poetry.
Sometimes you do it..have a cringefest revisiting old poems. It's like reading an old diary, complete with secret marks to hide your innermost fears - should the diary ever fall into the wrong hands. I have just undertaken such a journey after reading a recent post in the most excellent Po'et`ship. You are invited to take this journey at my own peril. It's a collection of poems from the late 70's through to the mid 90's. They are snapshots of moments in time - not a continuum and hardly reflective of a fairly full life! There are transitions from naive innocence through to a hardening and cynicism, with a glimmer of redemption. If other peoples poems about their love and life bore you STOP NOW!
It is with much embarassment and humiliation I give you...

If I knew then what I know now,
I wouldn't have felt a thing....

Like a newborn
I couldn't walk
But you led
You lent your hand
Over new ground
We moved

Your questions were my answers
I sat there, sure, certain
Nothing was said straight out
In the open

Like stars
We had followers
And advisors
Like the moon
We were in view of all.

One day
When together we are alone
We will talk
Not of tides
And breathing
But of this eternal thing.


I'm glad you don't wear a digitl watch
Where would you find the time?

Your delicate wrist has been wrested away.

The face I'm wearing says shockproof
Don't believe it
Nor waterproof either
Definitely not waterproof.

I wonder who is telling you what you can wear.
Does nothing seem more precious
Than the hand that holds the whip?


As the days grow longer
Lepidoptera Socialus
Emerges from her chrysalis
Gracing our calendars
With clockwork predictability
She traces her path
Across my heart.


These nights I'm lying here, it's alright,
but sometimes I wish you'd ring
just to say hi how are you and
how has your day been?

These nights I'm lying here, wondering
am I just an acquaintance, a casual
John saidyou can tell a friendship:
It's when someone seeks you out.

These nights I'm lying here , thinking,
every once a week (twice when I'm lucky)
we drink in the city refinements and supper
afterwards the desserts, such desserts!

Those nights I lay here, contented,
until the next night when nothing happened
no call, no letter, no I was just passing by
and I decided to drop in.. you don't mind?
As if I would!

No, if only you would impose (in the nicest sense)
Ask something of me, let me sense some continuity.
One night you said you were selfish with your time
Am I selfish wanting it? Perhaps I am.
But its all I ask, though not my every once a week
-please not the convenient packaged every once a week.

These nights , I'm lying here
Awaiting those rewarding touches, awaiting
Your reaches, your requests, your lips,
Awaiting release of our acquaintanceship.


Oh God, he gasped. I see colours
through a haze of black and white
Beckoned by the glowing vision
he ran, stumbled and fell at her feet.
Unperturbed by the swirling mass of sterility
Entranced by her majical movements, he smiled
I love your colours. What else was there to say?
Her eyes, her smile, her body.
He felt that joyous, exultant energy
emanating from within her shores
That energy, probing, dancing, touching
and expanding his own.

Then she saw through his mask
standing there, how he was
He felt not the icy blast of exposure
but an exciting pleasure
liberated of the sweaty suffocation
that was his mask.
He felt the freedom of a kindred spirit.
Distorted realities caved in around her
pulsing out, washing through him.

A sun became a supernova
exploding outwards upon itself
to become a black hole
but it's light goes on forever.
Inside the black hole
one becomes a spot in the void
bathed by the original light.

They exchanged words
comfortable but unnecessary
They shared the vision of the octopus
and acknowledged the destiny
they both knew.


O wicked lady, what sport were they to you?
Don't you think I understand the things that you can do.
Remember then the golden rule
The best at games will play the fool.

I've been down these long hard trails
Tasted wood and harnessed nails
Baby if you love me make me cry.

It's easy now to laugh and play
Don't really care, same old day
Baby if you love me make me cry.

Don't let me drift between sea and sky
Make me freeze burn wet and dry
Let's travel to our utmost.
I make you laugh , you make me cry
I make you live, you make me die.


Where do you go when everythings the same scene
when the cynic, not looking for love, sees all clearly.
Is there a new thrillto kill the boredom, blow the insanity.
A bar woman with big tits, skintight arse hugging hot pants,
a drug with no end, magic with power, lips and a tongue.
Someone uglywho doesn't care, eyes that know
Someone beautiful without fear, who likes to swallow
Hell burns eternally in my cock. Love gets boring.
What is romance when it all becomes a game
when I don't even care that I don't know your name.


Soon time to settle. Always known it
wan't forever. It was fun...
had to be done.
Now it's going
don't want no fuss
Soon its just the two of us
as good as all we've known
Its not really giving it all away
embracing it, it's a place to stay
Regret as a concepts gone, cos now
I know I'm moving on.

If you are still here.. not very pretty I guess. If I knew then...

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Wednesday, June 28, 2006

Feline Overlords

Through a pale green moonlit night
with bright shining minds
they descended.
Tails erect
all whiskered vanities
and sleek furs.
Perfect four pawed landings.

The Gods
Sphinx: Overseer of stone and sand.
KukulKhan: Whitefoot Cloudwalker-
illuminant snake eyed sister
The Kings
Jungles and mountains
Savannah and suburbia
Psychic black witches
Monks without bowls
Observers, companions,

The Cool
The poets and the blowers
ninth dimensional shadows
inhabiting the dark
fast friendly ferocious fanged
masters of night and day
they littered the Earth
the ultimate galactic colonists.

and the newlings - so cute...

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Sunday, June 25, 2006

DO NOT (Wasting Your Life With Thoughts About Nothing)

Do not think of a shadow
Do not visualise a rainbow
Do not imagine a vacuum

Do not wonder if she was right
Do not picture inside of a circle
Do not feel your breath inhale

Do not remember a lost love
Do not calculate one minus one
Do not conceive of starving millions

Do not envisage a dinosaur
Do not consider global warming
Do not reflect upon your image

Do not do what I tell you to do

Think for yourself.

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Wednesday, June 21, 2006


I hope death has time
Time to answer questions.

The evidence suggests
The universe is accelerating:
Time is going faster
People are getting massive.

As I finish re-searching the fridge
I consider other weighty matters:
To where do Buddhists retreat
Why am I attracted to fridge magnets
Who bought 12 billion bullets last year
Why do mirrors reflect left and right
But not up and down.
I hope death isn't hungry.

Monday, June 19, 2006

Full Moon Hiatus

In the slowly pulsing red mist
The poet walks the walk
Where others fear to tread
Through the dark alleys and engrams
Of his mynds patina.
He stops at a sign

Gravity Time Law
Nurture Nature Conscience
Possessions Body Words

Hoping for a dream of freedom
He falls asleep.

The Earth is an orange
Overpopulated with mould
It shrinks then collapses
Into a primordial soup
Of reduced complexity
The life force of order
Rallies her shadow
And leaves her transmutation.

In his mynd, his memories of Earth
Are no different than when she lived.

He awakens to another dream
To Olympus
Curtained in billowing chiffon
In soft translucent pastels
And a blade in his back
Oh yes, the Gods have humour
Falling to his knees
He searches for a shadow
Proof of reality
He falls to his hips
Then vertebra by vertebra
He falls to his chin
His head resting
On a field of chequered marble
As his head rolls forward
His eyeball comes to rest
On a business card

Conflict Resolution
No problem too big
We'll meet you halfway.

His pupil falls through the floor
Another star

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Tuesday, June 13, 2006

Metamorphosis Under Epsilon Centaurus

I want to be clear, like the chandelier
rattling in the empty space
from whence my brain is absent
with windowpanes illuminating the interior
sockets in my empty face
scoured by an icy wind's glint.
And when I am clear, I will roam
unhindered by sanity and illusion
disrobed of time's baubly raiments
tunneling gravity's unlikely boundaries
emerging slippery and wet, wriggling,
a worm cast from your smile.

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Tuesday, June 06, 2006

Lighten Your Load: Go Easy On Yourself.

The light from a billion galaxies
Is eclipsed by your luminosity.
The Earth , attracted to your essence
Cannot think to leave your presence.
The moon, entranced, brings gifts of waves
And helps the sun to light your way.
So take the light and take the weight
And to yourself be true
The universe that you create
All comes back to you.

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Monday, June 05, 2006

Antiverse 060606

My minions you are
not aloud
this read. it
willmess with your rhyme and.
oh sincofants and
ex-syncopats. welcome
to your

New Zealand Found on Titan

Its official, Crunchy Weta is an offworlder.
Is it just my imagination, or is this another New Zealand on Titan?

To view the video..
Thanks toRussell for the link to Nasa.


Three Colours Blue

Skies of blue
Eyes of blue
Blue suede Hawaiian
Blue moon blues
"There ain't been no woman
No there ain't been no woman
Lord there ain't been no woman
On the mooo ooo oo oo oon"

Blue Meaning
On a bellyache of blue meaning
Shiva began his dance
A blur of blue arms
in rhythm with the trees
amidst an azure washed
sea of reality.
He observed his fingers play bass
Mingusly melding sounds and surrounds
perhaps his finest and final performance.
Unsure of the breathing walls
his melting extremities
and the encroaching maelstrom of furnishings,
he sought sanctuary
as his invisibility began.
How sad, how sad, how..
With streaming tears
he huddles
foetus like
in the one position
where eternity ranged still,
clinging steadfastly to his id
drifting through a formless nowhere
blue blood pooling silently
around his final word.

Coda Blue
You sold your pain as truth
Casualty of a misspent youth.
You blue your brains to try and see
The truth inside of you and me.
Now you chill in deathly silence
Victim of your own dumb violence.

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Saturday, June 03, 2006

Three Colours: White: Older and Colder.

Fly little mountain flake, be free
Wander amongst raindrops and mountain tops
For this is your dream.

I have seen light sparkle, soul reflected
From a perfect crystal
As you fluttered and twirled your path along.

Oh why, why, white fairy
Did you so gently alight upon my cheek
Knowing the fate my warmth would bring

...Before you roll down my face, a tear,
Dearest little water star,
go free......

white lies
snow covered truth
loves cold granite heart
the cries of melting snow
the burning moment of eternal sun

What happens
When the moon dont shine no more
Silence sleeping slowly, drift on the earth.
Rainfalls once too much bursts sown seeds
Dreamtime ever ebbing on the other side, halts.

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Thursday, June 01, 2006

The Bloody Part of Hell

Screaming red fluid
Emergency ward sunset
Apple bobbing razors
Kaitaia Fire chilly sauce
The jaws of life
Cherry Moana Brandy
Burning a passionlit candle
Rising temperature thermometer
A muscle of magma
No longer a virgin
Escape from PMT
Hand meats mouth
Martian root canal
Glass iron rockets
Goodnight Bela Lugosi
The bloody part of hell.

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Wednesday, May 31, 2006

Imagine Shaving A Fish.

At the first and last postmodern exhibition
I could not see 'Pure Black'
Nor get the measure of 'The Vacuum'
I could not explain 'Anything'
As I didn't know 'Everything'
I wasted some time on 'Prepost Redundancy'
'The Source Of Light In Dreams' mystified
And 'Anhedonia' numbed me
The moment I was aware of 'Perception'
It became 'A Memory'
The statue 'Vito Scotti Eating A Clown'
Left a funny taste in my mouth
After reading a manuscript 'Original Thought'
I sat in an uncaring chair
And imagined shaving a fish.

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Tuesday, May 30, 2006

The Long Walk of The Alchemical Gambler.

The path I am on
passes through every point in the universe.
In my dreams
Einstein mocks me
"That could take a long time"
His knowledge of the universe seems bigger than the universe.

In my dreams
The particulate energies of my existence
scatter randomly
then suddenly freeze
at the moment of maximum randomness
exactly equidistant.

In my dreams
I see how little I can say about nothing
I can't stop thinking about nothing
The less I think , the more I am.
Descartes interrupts -" I should think not !"
then promptly vanishes into nowhere.

In my dreams
I float above
my supercool, superconductive
Biefield -Brown hv thruster
My mass changed, velocity static
I travel through time.

In my dreams
The boundary of the universe
is a fractal
expanding to accomodate knowledge of energy
The infinite enclosed in finite space.

In my dreams
There are no waves, light is not of two minds
energy flows through funnels
and like a giant pachinko game
finds its ethereal path blocked, forced to coagulate as matter
or bifurcate - casting interference patterns;
blocked by eleven D superstrung walls
enclosing an alternative dark mattered universe.

In my dreams
The probability something happens is one
the number of alternatives is infinite
heads, not heads, crashing, not crashing
the tips of my fingers inseperable from everything
the total matter of the Earth held in my hand.

In my dream
The alchemist walks up to the door
bottle of wine in hand
and sits at the table.
"I'll see your articles of faith
and raise you one grand unification theory."
God rolls the dice.

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Wednesday, May 24, 2006

Yo Dog, Lissen Up.

I can't stand snap happy
lap dogs yappin
me too me too
look at me.
Make mine a
sensitive fire-huggin wolfhound
x pipe smokin slipper fetchin setter
x Jah lovin wooly puli
x pug ugly bulldog
x manic border collie eatin machine
x snow eyed malamute
x sneaky pushy psychic doberman
x slobberin simple bull mastiff
x stupid car chasin spaniel
x colourful troubador's bitzer
x St Bernard drinkin buddy
x comfortable ol Spot's dad
x super sleuthin beagle...
Just don't bug me with no
Napoleonic ankle bitin
snap happy lap dog
yappin me too, me too
look at me.

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Sunday, May 21, 2006

Tangram- The 5040 Poems of a World Peaced Together

Instructions: Arrange the lines of this poem in any order you find pleasing. To increase world peace and understanding, pass your version on to a friend and ask them to do the same :-)

On the seven board of cunning
You can arrange the pieces
With geographic diplomacy
To make different shapes
If your mind is agile
The continents move so
When the people are at peace

Saturday, May 20, 2006

Robot Rendering at PKD

Most of my robots are armed and armoured.

My next one should
Stand next to a half full trolley
in a supermarket car park
suspiciously studying a docket.

It should
Enjoy the particular orange light
after a storm
before sunset.

It should
Display a studied nonchalance
when caught
picking its nose
at traffic lights.

It should
Eat the last piece of cake
with Clint Eastwood cool.

It should
Enjoy standing
in steaming cow dung
after running barefoot
through frosty fields.

It should
Find discreet perches
to watch cats
and its head should swivel swiftly
surprising cats eying it over their shoulders.

It should
Find lost remotes
and toss them gleefully in the air
before pretending they are cellphones
and scuttling away
mid conversation.

My next robot should be perfect.

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Wednesday, May 17, 2006


You began as a blank sheet.
By the time he'd finished
writing your life
you wished his pencil led head
had had an eraser,
so he wouldn't have
scribbled all over you
or left
trails of white stuff
denying, scarring,
what was.

Just his practice sheet.
A discarded rough copy
of his Sermon on the Mount.

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Monday, May 15, 2006

Fallin Outa Space - Song Lyrics 1986

Woke up this morning
and got out of bed
rolled up a joint
and got out of my head
The sun comes shining
over my windowsill
I know I might
Baby I know I will

Im so-o stoned
outa my mind

Woke up this morning
and I had a cuppa tea
Its not the normal type
I know you'll see
cos it's made from mushrooms
I picked by hand
I know baby
that you'll understand

I'm so-o zoned
outa my mind

Woke up this morning
Baby you weren't there
Now I know
that you just don't care
So I rolled up a joint
and got outta my head
better off than being dead

Im so-o
o in love with you
Yes I'm so-o
In love with you.

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Interstellar Overdrive - Song Lyrics 1986

Interstellar overdrive
Interstellar baby
Keep my soul alive
Go a million miles an hour
We got the power of love
We'll ride for hours in my

Interstellar overdrive
Interstellar baby
Keep your soul alive
See the stars
They're shining just for you
We got the power of love
We got the do do do do do...

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First Stone

Eat this meal of love
and forgiveness,
And judge not Judas
steadfast and strong,
his faithfulness
beyond devotion.
Our fateality
his thorny crown.


This morning moment
I return
Wearied from my nocturnal exertions.

Beware- the hunter tracks your pretences,
Nostrils flaring, saliva glistening,
At the scent of your social graces.

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Wednesday, May 10, 2006

Questianity 2B: Lord Of The Flies

i tire of inane questianity
religious certainty
misleading synchronicity
perfect ideality
factual pomposity
alternative reality
To Bill i say just let me be.

Its true i have an arrangement
with flies
but mosquitoes buzz and bite
scoffing at all entreaty
so i kill them.

The existence of a god
or eternal life
matter not one whit
if you live your life
best that you see fit.

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Its not cruelty
that makes me linger
upon your breathless impatience.

Its part mastery
fingertip control
the striking of taut piano strings.

Its part pleasure
Lost to time and space
Semibreves and quavers of whorls and ridges.

Its part imagination
I am you am me
a span shuddered by unison souls.

As dewdrop to the mighty seas,
A linger to your fevered please.

Tuesday, May 09, 2006

The Flinch.

We are betrayed by your flinch.

a grotesque monster
tearing wings from butterflies
to smear their scales
across my jagged soul

You a chrysalis of unresolved damage
living in the past
confused by the flashes
of your confident lashes

We fixed each other a little.
But we should quit now.

Icarus was not as bright as the sun.

Monday, May 08, 2006

From One Drip Two

Ahhh Icy
Aqueous Humour
one drip to another
Ohh Ohh, what a
rime sublime

In Reply to Fickle Trickle

Friday, May 05, 2006

Slow Poetry Movement

For poetry enthusiats
today is national slow poetry day
so go ahead
lentement lentement

give some mindful mastication
let the word sauce dribble
as they perambulate peristaltically
to oesophagus's underworld
awash in your acid
their vitality absorbed
feel their nourishment
sense their resonance
their rhythm
on your palette

pass some on
(to a friend)

Thursday, May 04, 2006

Fat Boy ( He's not fat , just thick skinned )

Fatty fatty two by four
Can't fit through the bathroom door.
Funny the first two hundred times.

Ten ton rubber bum
Leaves no room for anyone.
Hilarious the first two hundred times.

Mama Cass, Fatty Arbuckle, Billy Bunter,
Fatso, fatty, fatguts, blubberboy,
Gutso, fatarse, fatshit, lardo,
Lardarse, meatloaf, big guy,
Pig , piggy, pigguts,
Useless , lazy, go on a diet,
Glenn , Glenn the big fat hen.
Cracked me up the first two hundred times.

Psych ward - bedroom in the middle
of the dining room.

Lose a few kilos:
Have you been on a diet?
Wow , you look great.
(Like you didn't before.)

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