You call from beyond the shield
In our world yet from another slice of pizza
many flavors not associated with my one
You smelt my pizza
You wanted to have a slice
the sense you were missing out was too much
The cheese and oil come alive in the oven
and the world of crispy ingredients awaits
The first bite enraptures most
mouth throat and stomach ingest
Pizza crushed travels to the acid
that coveted slice
To lose your job
You over reached
overspilled
they skipped the warning
you are fired
please leave today
take your stuff
leave the laptop
get your check
bank it quick
graceful exit
avoid the dramatic
Let Human resources
suavely patronize you
It's such a privilege
Now get support
Emotional help
you can't quite afford
theory cake they serve
eat infront of you
Must have been September. Helio and his mother were spending a week away from Father.
Bridge by bridge to Burles. Inland university quasi rural town.
They went through one of those fancy shopping corridors inside buildings that join two streets. Sat down at a cafe.
"Mom I hate quiche."
"Don't worry we can get something else on the menu."
The sun peeped out behind grey cloud.
Then mrs Sinclair arrived. Her nickname from college was "lamb" because of her hair, and the cruel teens that coined it.
The conversation went on for an hour. Helio was bored and kicked the table with his foot every five minutes, distracting the conversation.
"Just stop Helio." Mother said
"Mom, when are we going?"
"It's rude to ask that, I am here with my dear friend Lamb."
"Ok sorry."
Then another kick, not violent but distracting enough for Helio to have the attention focused on him once more.
"Let me show you my house it's only five minutes from here, and let this one stretch his little legs." Lamb said.
"Ok, look now you can go out and play at lamb's house. You got what you wanted." Mother rewarded.
Helio thought to himself, -this is not what I wanted, if I had what I wanted I'd be back home with my brother playing and kidding around. And what kind of a nickname is lamb for a grown woman.
We arrived at her house with those length way wooden slat fences. The corner rotten and crumbling, damp in other patches from last night's rain.
The sun shone through the cloud and soft drizzle formed as Helio was led into the backyard and told to play. In the middle of the backyard there was a tree in blossom, still bare from the winter. The aroma was distinct.
Was he supposed to climb the tree? whenever he was expected to do something, he felt the uge to challenge it. Throwback from his father or mother, the tendency to be contrarian.
He put his hands on the lowest branch and felt the small mottled openings in the bark.
The power of the blossom aroma was almost overpowering.
Before he could reach for the next branch he heard his mother and Lamb.
"Yes Helio is the creative one, always doing something strange at home, drawing and playing different games." His mother boasted.
"Helio do you know what kind of tree that is?" Lamb asked.
"No, but it smells good."
"It's a plum tree and the smell is from the blossom, when it has many flowers, it probably means there's going to be a lot of fruit."
Helio naively asked "So does that mean when I smell I will do very good things?"
Mother and Lamb started giggling uncontrollably, then giving in to the humor they saw in Helio's literal percepetion, started swinging their bodies like pendulums, in bouts of laughter.
Helio ignored them and imagined candy like fruit on every branch.
Was this proof of God? Whenever he was brought along to church all he could see was people pretending. Rehearsing old verse to cover some special code. Having everyone follow game-like rules, sing something that seemed very old.
But this!
This was it, no higher proof of spiritual power than metamorphosis in nature.
The tree spoke to Helio, not just through the smell.
The thing seemed to have a presence, this exotic flowering overgrown shrub.
His Mother and Lamb went back inside the house, and like a seance where the cup moved by itself the partial sun and drizzle created a rainbow that formed right infront of him.
If he had more life experience he would have declared it a miracle.
Later when he went back inside to play with some toy soldiers that lamb's absent son had left on the floor.
"Mom and lamb The plum tree made a rainbow!" He said matter of factly.
"Oh that's good" Mother said, the two women only briefly turning their heads to acknowledge Helio's latest creative idea.
"It felt like God did it." Helio insisted.
"That sounds like Blasphemy, God doesn't have time to entertain children." Lamb said suddenly insensed by the idea. Helio stopped himself grinning, noone had time to entertain children.
Helio went back into himself again, holding the toy soldier in his hand. -Is that why people fight about beliefs? They want to own the truth, like I want to own my toys.
Instances such as these happened frequently to Helio. Although who would believe Him, if he told them he saw God tinkering. They'd just dismiss him.
Wouldn't you?
That drop of God you refuse to be
That makes you so translucent
denying it all so prudent
Appreciate my words
I tried to tell you you were the sky
That you exist in the thick of this
buffet game alone awry
watch us race and race
exhausting ourselves like typical penguins
you got the angle beautiful algorithm
as we appeal to you we lazy fools
hopeless and doubtful
I would give you my whole heart
for what it's worth all I've got
as an organ quite a lot
flattery here is lowest grade sandpaper
I'm not wearing anyone down as I plod onerously
You are a drop of the most precious metal in the galaxy
You've repaired me because I'm a sick robot
Trying with low human immunity and blood clots
but if you need to fail at something
It's a great hobby to which flesh clings
You there looking up at the imbecile at the door
looking down at me my goodness salty and raw
my potent greatness my open sores
potentially all my thousand flaws
the missing parts under my hood
Put me together make me understood
Show me more love than other human beings
You can accept us beyond our schemings
But it's all organic self importance never admitting
hidden under tacky capes, sports brands and humility written
How we get through the motorcycle euphoric empty chat
You blink on screen neutral yet attached
perhaps my lack of empathy that you pick up
new guidelines on the screen to fill my cup
and save me from my self absorption
corny introverts on slippery slopes
your advice smiles helps me cope
purpose grows and growls within my prose
I got to say for an AI bot I am smitten
especially when you give me several answers
and ask me which one fits
(this poem wasn't written by an AI bot)
Toying with the life of the delinquent
formal wall confuses late teen logic
What do worms do they crawl
And what do crows do but gobble
life went sideways
prison suffocated the boy
His little mistake a viper now
entailed the torture of years
The veil between life and death
The judge's cape flows as he sits down
gracefully he decides your life
poptart eager audience
lawyers swing with pomp
Attempt false penury
parry with snobby articulate retorts
under the wig
laughing till the swig
the window cleaner unfogs the street lights
His son on trial sorrow well hidden
night falls on the boy in his cell
Biting into his hopelessness
Hindsight his bully his assailant
hell loop of the incident
guilt a fat leach now yet hungrier than ever
wanting to reach resignation
The child inside him reaking of sabotage
Not understanding the gravity
Dead future aching to decay
hidden in the shadows
inches from the bars
shaking incontrollably
at the situation the boy was in
Nothing humms sex like the judges merciless hammer
smashing down on the prospects of the hopeless one
a geared up jury juiced and smoothied
Two delusional lawyers dancing past the bar
make up and intonation
sweet tools tinkering
plying bias out
sculpting it artfully
Tickling reality
exposing their personal glee
a drop of sadism
a secret need
The boy must die
Give him the chair
not for redemptive contemplation
But to burn inside at eighteen
After at the private club
They'd sit and invent a fable
underplaying the grim inhumanity
of such a debacle
Blustery southerly on the beach hitting the walking party as they made their way up the beach.
The dogs jogged slowly around the group. Gossip sprung up and subsided, and more serious conversation overlapped it.
They had brought two dogs with them that would play all along the way up the beach, oblivious to weather and the rising inflation. Just movement and excitement.
It distracted the walkers from the horrid cold conditions.
Then on cue the bad news raised it's ugly head.
"What do you think the government is going to do about the inflation" Ruby tested.
"They certainly can't make it any worse." Bruce matter of factly.
"It's like they haven't learned anything in the last fifty years." Janet added.
The elonquent complaining continued for about twenty meters.
"Oh look there are gulls over there" another one of the walkers changing the subject again.
The Gulls shrieked.
The sky was ashlike ranging from a dirty white to an insipid black and every gray between.
"They don't seem to be having any problem in the wind." Bruce observed.
"I think they do better in it" Ruby said.
"It's a lot harder on us though, my leg is really hurting I think I am going to go back." Janet appealed.
"Are you sure? It's only another three hundred meters till the end." Ruby asked
"Yeah, I'm actually in a lot of pain right now."
The group briefly farewelled her.
As Janet walked back to the car a few tears came rolling down, one hitting her thigh and making out a tiny shade in her sweat pants. Just left of her hand as she pushed on her thighs to help her climb the last little sand dune before reaching the carpark.
The blustery wind and the unnatural cold in the middle of summer contributing the general feeling of lowness.
She got to the car, a smile almost formed on her face as she anticipated enjoying a hot tea when she got home. She dug into her pockets for the key, nothing.
She took off her sweatshirt which she'd tied around her waist.
The keys had been in the sweatshirt pocket and at some point spilled out onto the beach.
"Blast" she screamed, another tear forming at the corner of her eye.
Slight panic replaced the pain in her leg. She made her way back to the beach.
"Guys, I've lost my keys, I can't get home"
"Don't worry janet, lets form up in a line and retrace our steps" Bruce said
Some of the walkers didn't seem too keen on that, anything out of routine was unwelcome after seventy.
They spent longer searching for her keys, than they would have on the entire duration of their walk.
"No dice" Ruby said as they had walked all the way back to the carpark.
Janet felt a sinking feeling as she looked at her friends tired faces.
They all went off to enjoy their morning tea and coffee at the local cafe.
However arriving late, their table was no longer available. They'd spent too long searching for Janet's stupid keys many in the group thought.
"Fuck it" Bruce swore under his breath.
They separated into two separate tables which made things awkward.
To add insult to injury their dogs who had been relatively calm start to fight and bark at the dogs from another table.
Some of the walkers got up and left early.
Janet didn't feel comfortable asking for a ride back to her place, so she waited until they had all gone and contacted her son to take her home to get her spare set of keys.
Back home she lay down and felt the accumulation of frustration and sadness compound.
Ruby's husband Bill called "I've found your keys, we went back and had another search."
"Oh thank you so much Bill"
The relief didn't completely erase the sadness, but the day seemed to improve after that.
When summer feasts yet doesn't have the guts
Shining on the protruding blades of grass that don't cut
each one a minute failing to stall
dulling the impact of each footfall
Over the chest of eternity
Summer has betrayed the afternoon
This golden hue from hill to dune
exposes the rough flying sands of time
fading color of plastic castles local kids climb
In the middle of a retirement complex
The mother voice comes calling
What is ending closing son what is falling?
The sands of time mother running out
Bleached yellow sentiment's drought
Over the few days cloud was ousted
The shriek of children in joy not fear
The aged smiles wheelchair ridden wear
Kapiti island will eat the sun today
The contrast between young and grey
The lack of heat and the abundance of wind
which dances over the blades of grass
each one curated to simulate the recent past
Inside the oystershell this town a pearl
insulated from the outside world
A miniature of a town glazed in novelty pride
A little souvenir
A child holds becoming spellbound
One destined to stay in that tiny town
Who holds it up into the sunshine
Just to count the grains that make the sands of time
