Eyes and Ears

Passing Through

Dozens and dozens,
a hundred or more
seagulls are passing through
the sea-soaked bastion
of Shag Point,
just south of Oamaru.
They call, they call,
they call again
as they glide on by;
a quick hello before they glide
into a southern night.

A First World Problem

Surround sound and polished waves
Keep reality from the crazy raving
Fantasy that we all fall for;
Us white sheep herded through the doors
Into a promised neverland
Where hope and love could never land
For fear of pop contaminants.

Such is the life us blessed are in.

Wulf Young’s Love

The waves play tag
As they criss-cross by;
A misplaced day
For a playful tide.
A rainbow spouts
In the distant sea,
But as moments pass
The rainbow flees
Beyond the silent
Volcanic giant,
Who watches tides
Fall and rise and
Playing tag
On a winter’s day.
Volcanos, waves
And rainbows play.

Rats and Rainbows

The world is full of wonder,
Extr’ordinary things,
Resounding booms of thunder
And streams of white light’ning.
They shout, “Can you deny
The presence of your God?!”
But in my own flawed mind,
By Nature I am awed.
A name brings prejudice
To ev’ry mind of man.
Forget the words, the benefits
Will halt you where you stand.
The rainbow’d is the brother to the rats of the sky.
Stop reading, turn around, see the beauty in your sight.

The Hunted King of Death

He paves the concrete red
And yet his hands are clean;
The children hurt or dead,
Forgotten for the green.
Unnecessary pain
For unnecessary gain,
But he just hides the stain
Of where the children lay.
This is cowardice
Of the most pathetic kind;
To destroy a wealth of promise?
He cannot be so blind.
He hides like a hunter behind his slew of guns,
But as the guilty hunted, he will always run.

Manly Conversation

We talk and we talk,
and we drink and we drink,
of manly things
despite what we think.

I try to bring in
emotional talk,
but the chance of that
is like I would walk.

Finally we reach
my territory,
after talking of never
could-be queens,

but even this is
simply childish;
it’s a new and strange world
to join that I wish.

Parking Lot Ballads

What a voice! The tender
innocence (or is it ignorance?)
that caresses the moonlit
fire in the parking lot.
Generic OMG’s and totally’s
while trying to fit in with a
generic crowd of small brains,
big egos and testosterone.

***

Guitars and Dalmatians playing
to uninterested wheels under
the supermarket lights; there is no
audience but I.
Not the best, but better than
he’s placed. I guess this is the way it
goes: money and geography
determining wealth and worth.