Roaming

The mobile asylum
running on squashed penny wheels
Rolling over ditches following the stray
Like a dog after a hare

The large hotels of ambition
Where fancy youth congregate
Their whole life is spent
on accommodation

Welcome to the neighborhood
as it moves this way and that
The only stationary things are the scales
Step on it like a minnow in the skin of a whale

Cross the bridge made of love notes never received
look over the side into the water of misled fantasy
See how the rabid dog drinks from it
then make your way to the top of this great hill

From there you can see the real sun
and not some manmade satellite of illumination

Vlad's glass raised

Balalaika
The city lights reflecting off it at night
out there in the darkness of an endless continent
the sweetness and abundance

surreal surfaces
The dog tongues lap
as the dragon in the middle of the lake flicks it's tail

The frost breaking moist air
rolling of it countering the frigid air
swirl of the blue

each bay a thirst quenched
under which a school or two of fish patrol
In that glassy expanse so mysterious and cold

Lifestyles of the sheepish millions

Imported beer seemed to be all they cared about
afternoons of hall parties and bathtub bashes
Comparison and measuring each lifestyle
and each unfortunate thereby chained

You couldn´t change it
even in the spectrum window of things you will become
Not even if you got on a bus today to run
The city sits on you like a chicken on a chick

The city polishes that window of yours
but only in the corners it deems worthy
And the bias runs down gullets like imported beer
And is exchanged for harsh reality bathwater

All the pieces of you in that window
Your social media self measurable
Your online aura, woollen
For a hundred million like you have been lumped into a lense

Adventures at turtle pace

Simple fortune
Dew glased grass
Morning all dappled
breakfast hotcake syruped mapple

Willow tree in remission
warmth's recess
local claims rebuked in excess
december waves

Tyres roll gravel, the first hurdle
Then pavement and ashphalt
Official mobility for a turtle
conjuring adventure

Corners begged tragedy
and hills embraced us staggeringly
Yet we turtled on happily
to the next tourist trap

Coast of fortune
Dry fields and browning paddocks
Abundance still present not lack
Turtle on wheels making tracks

Simple wind of fortune
Blowing us warmly into untended orchards
where the elderly compared stories for sport
And hobbies and occupations mixed into lifestyles

Simple drizzle of fortune
Where adult queues and children amused ran amok
The sky on vacation, overcast's long hours
Day activities sprayed with kids on skates

Manuwatu gorge begging death
Winds it's fanatical disciples
Wrapping themselves around the gullies
Until our vehicle and us were almost buried

Western Sun of prosperity
Pastures emeralding and announcing
Moisture a milky cloud away
A sure cool friend a summer dampner

Pretty cats

Pretty door

pretty match

Pretty fur

Pretty catch

Pretty claws

Pretty gash

Pretty bad

that pretty cat

Pretty quick

That pretty rat

Yet pretty spent

on the bloody mat

Pretty proud

That pretty cat

yet Pretty raw

his lifeless catch

Pretty this

and pretty that

with pretty claws

deadly scratch

Pretty fangs

Oh don't say that

Pretty deep

in necks of rats

Forests like these

A forest of a million green eyes
Blissful lush full seemingly endless
Sacred and collective
moving my digestion

A forest like a city of green shady temples
God's love proven in sum and value
Reflections of the sun and contrasts with blue
Radiant beyond description

A beauty the swerving river carries
The silt layered land underneath in ever glee 
south of Opotiki

Toward one tree hill

Satisfaction comes on slowly and inconsistently as the southern summer
One could walk sprig of wheat from the mouth, country like, knocking around in the wind
A long walk, big dreams, the present is just one foot in front of the other
The street is a dog watching people walk by, humorously thinking itself human

 Each curiosity lasts not more than second the mind never questions is that enough?
like each crack in the pavement gone in a few paces as if it never were
yet it all accumulates with everything else your eyes have taken in
over a traveler's lifetime

landmarks own the city and comfort those thrill seeking eyes
for all paths can be traced back by them
the simple tourist can truly devour them
and put any fancy adjective before them

The loud cry of a city can be deafening
as it explodes from the center and echoes into the suburbs
But this small city made such a subtle transition
That shops became houses in a whisper

When we got to one tree hill
I swear there were...
Moreton bay figs and olive groves cheering us on
we reached the top and saw two storms on the horizon
already time to return from such a short fruitful journey