Relief from passion

 Readjusting
An empty heart is a relief
Passion is a devil
it overturns everything

Pushes us into the middle of the road
Into the stretch of the forest snake infested
An empty heart is a blessing
Rearranged to meet the open days

Beaches calling for a sea
Sandy miles no sign of the water
Blessed salt water
Passion leaves us bone dry

Da cry carp

 Humphrey monster and the hotdog team
Dawdle boy and the outward steps 
Black freckles and a defensiveness
Thorny spineless devil lips 
Edge we are, are we?
 Joked and the downpour came

They had figured it out
Lunchtime bristling
Back of the bus
Only the cool ones
Light hazing

Into the hills and swerves everyday
They retold their father's exaggerated stories
came in from the farms
filthy and rugged
Hotdog breath

Toward the Akatarawa
False pines 
And light winter snow

Avoiding the truth

 The one I could have helped falls by the wayside
I sypmathize with the God some pretend to love
Most just blame for the world in its state
The one I wanted to protect  struggling, emaciated in the highway ditch

Ragdoll human abandoned by every which one allocated to love him
In the high grass crawling weak dehydrated, underfed, unloved
The traffic passes uncaring I keep climbing the stairs of life
The one I was supposed to care for smiles even in their state

Pretending to be happy so that I would stop and check
As if knowing that a frown or grimace would force all to avoid
Swallowing his pain he bears his teeth and appeals
But none notice and he returns to the ditch

where the remains of some family picnic await him
The basket weave so very ornate
Like a society obsessed with the appearances of results
avoiding the truth of them at all costs 

The insanity of the commute

 We turn away from train station
Commuters now we are pedestrians
Looking up at the walk light
waiting for it turn green

Turning to one another impatiently
A million moments have come to this
The zebra is flat there across to other side
There is no mercy

You check your watch
Traffic still needs to pass by
The light is delayed
So you stand there on leg to the other

Shifting weight like you want to pee
Green light urges you forward imbalance
I Follow your steps as each bar of the piano plays
hearing your doubts pop

You made it to the other side
The red figure inside the light
Is blinking
It is bleeding, it is bleeding

Tunnel Trauma

 Crawling down the tunnel,
with mickey ears.
Never a fun time.
I was four years old and claustrophic/

I made my way in and the other toddlers too
Until there was no way out all exits were blocked
So I screamed just about as loud as any creature could have screamed
And the kids poured out just as traumatized as they had left me

That gave me a great deal of satisfaction
And when they pulled me out 
The adults comforted me
And the terrible game was over

Mac and friends

 Andrew had called all the kids who were now adults
From teens till middle age a dozen thousand parties later
First signs of wrinkles, belly fat, balding
Popular friends now are the ones earning over a hundred and fifty g a year

Popular friends made consumer decisions designer brands shoes and threads
And those decisions were the biggest talking points in the endless bore
Well timed laughter and bragging, inspiring gesticulation
The fear of missing out aimed and tainted all of them

Envy wasn't just green it was every color
The ones they put on for sport and the ones they wear for fun
deep down they feel the pinch as they compare among themselves
looking up and down and feeling that sense of inequity

They themselves gave themselves up to it
Liek young women to mansions owned by known abusers
They return and feel that push until their self esteem can finally fit
Into the the tiny cubby hole that Andrew has decided they belong inside of

A carpark in Raumati

 Indoors warm outside crisp and cold
The stream that passes through aint clean
The flax whispers and mocks as it's leaves whack and slip
A dead fish lies down there on the beach

Sewage pipe runs parallel
The building on my left wafts chlorine off it
The grass is short and durable
Fatter blades like those of the tropics

Bryan Ferry's song moves through the dreary dream of the place
Here is somewhere familiar
Lo somewhere completely foreign
maybe there's hope for you yet grandfather's portrait echoes

The waves with their lips all foamy jumping out from the brushstrokes
Like saliva from his mouth when he cant get the words out
All the way back between the channel toward Kapiti island
I observe the wooden supports to the polluted stream

I marvel at how well it's all put together
yet the stench of the unprocessed waste water
Matching it to the public pool's incredible chlorine stink
The senses awoke and it became a strange dimension