Tequila

A verbal volume battle,
raging war of words which no one cares about
gets too much.
You take tequila to the trees
an attempt to clear
retreat works at first
but she is inclined to deceive
so will soon try tempting you into a bad decision.
You fight with tequila. She is wrong.
We can make happy endings.

My Turn

I believe not in a higher being
but in life and in living.
I believe in passion, compassion,
I believe in language and culture
I believe in imagination
and making things your own.
I believe in the path of least harm
and I believe in so much more:
what is belief to you?

Cryptic II

Disturbs awful pest in America;
clumsy centipede, essentially confused
upsets open vessels,
caught in denial, unexpectedly.
Macerate new scones and jam
left on plate? You, say! Tidy up!
Nasty rows about gold bring misery,
interim alterations to railway stations
racing track circuits partly collapsed
amusing or ridiculous, stupid person.
Add a very quiet finale-
bank gives heartless response.

*second in a series of found poems from cryptic crosswords

Cryptic

They have their ups and downs at playtime.

She composes a reflective article,

business initiative,

emblem of the brave

released – or shot.

Prison tour rearranged,

dreadful Australian orgy,

one lacking a blooming partner?

Weeping girl takes nothing up,

complication that naturally goes against the grain.

*Found poem from cryptic crossword clues.

Tea and Poetry

Clinging to student

life in my pajamas

to blankets

and movies

ignoring deadlines

hiding from my flatmates

and the rain.

English breakfast

toast and more toast

and wine

and dirty dishes

due today

vodka writes

good essays

and good nights.

A Kind of Sickness

My eyes are weeping

my throat is raw

don't have time for this right now-

then, there never is a convenient time

for such misery

for recovery

or for tears

so you stay strong

keep on

keeping on-

what I'm really saying is

I am truly thrilled

to have conjunctivitis.

Game On

Miss Scarlet

in the dining room

with the lead pipe.

The media

in our minds

with lies.

Sit down.

Simon says jump.

Jump.

Society says sit down.

Do this, do that.

They mould you like play-dough,

but this is no child's game.

You pay out

more often than you pass go.

There are as many snakes

as ladders.

Life's fantastic

being plastic

if you want to be a Barbie girl

but there is something questionable

about the puppetry in this show.

Pirate Princess

Scours the map

prepared to search

heart set on a treasure

in a dead man's chest.

Not storm nor curse will slow the search

nothing can dampen the feeling.

Land! But no, not here

the hunt goes on.

The crew's spirits wane

they lack her tireless desire

for that dead man's chest.

Land! X marks the spot.

She lays her head to rest

on the dead man's chest.

Waimarama Night

We were grains of sand,

dancers waltzing to rock music.

The air's salty taste felt like summer

when one year became the next

at Waimarama.

We were not delicate.

The police came too that night,

getting in on the party,

taking one off to a flowery dell.

We felt like things would never be the same,
sculpting ourselves on

the shaky foundations of dreams.

The playground taught us about all kinds of pain

and we rewound the clock
just to see if things would happen the same way

given a chance to start again.

I knew things could have been better
but the night was perfectly imperfect

and the story will be told a few times

some years down the line.

We eventually slept, fallacious sleep.

We woke to make resolutions,

healthy eating and no more booze

then cracked open a beer and ate

stacks of pancakes for breakfast-

The morning sun warned us

and the beach flaunted its beauty.