Poem Of The Week

‘Snow Business

Mary had a little lamb,
but times were pretty tough,
so, she took her ewes off to the ram,
to ensure she’d have enough

to export product overseas
as hogget and mutton chops,
which Mary marketed with ease,
to the foreign butcher shops.

Her farm expanded, and flocks increased,
to match worldwide demand,
as everyone began to feast
on Mary’s little lamb.

She put some here, she put some there,
she put some up the hill;
soon Mary had lambs everywhere,
and things went fine, until…

the southern winter stayed too late
and it began to snow,
then Mary’s fifty thousand mates
just had no place to go.

If Mary had a little sense,
she might be more diverse.
Variety behind Mary’s fence
might help to lift the curse

of being a lamb or ram or ewe
on Mary’s giant farm,
where snow white sheep are turning blue;
which is cause for some alarm.

A few of these, and some of that,
with rows of spuds and parsley;
a gaggle of geese, a dog and cat,
and Totara planted sparsely

providing vital shelter , at least,
for Mary’s sheep and goats;
otherwise, buy in Polarfleece
and make them winter coats.

Mary had a little lamb,
its’ fleece was all the rage;
so, when he grew into a ram,
she put him on the stage

to entertain in Rotorua
for tourists from Japan,
who only wanted photographs
of Mary’s little lamb.

 

Horse Killers

There were over forty Clydesdales,
held by a piece of string.
No one saw the blizzard comin',
that happened that early spring.
Reports of how it started
are few and far between,
but things got pretty crazy, mate,
it must have been an awful scene!

A couple may have started fighting,
and that was all she wrote;
on that station down near Geraldine,
that day somebody got my goat.

They thundered ‘round in a mighty swarm
of flesh and electric fence,
before smashing down a ten inch post,
the barbed wire was no defense;

then over several cattle stops,
the stampede had begun;
down the road towards Geraldine,
did those mighty horses run!
Horse killers, and big box thrillers,
don't they just go hand in hand!
Spin doctors, and their helicopters,
don't they make it all look so grand!

But, dead ponies and media cronies,
did nobody see the blood?
I shouted out loudly, but I can stand proudly,
there’s a story buried deep in the mud.

Those horses kept on running,
till they had had enough.
Some went lame, and what a cryin’ shame,
two went off the bluff.

The company started moving,
in all directions, or so I’m told.
Some headed off towards Geraldine,
others towards damage control.
"Don’t ever let this story out,"
that's what they told the worried crew.
"The potential repercussions...
if the world finds out, we’re screwed!"

But those renegade cabayos,
got collected in due time;
and of the twenty odd that escaped that terrible day,
thank God, none of them was mine.

My boys had gone to higher ground
to escape from all the fuss;
others weren’t so lucky,
you could hear those cowboys cuss.

The horse killers showed no sympathy,
they preferred to pass the buck;
besides they had a pile of cash,
just in case things came unstuck.
Word is they shelled out twenty grand,
to some girl who’d lost her pet.
All in all it was a very busy day,
for the accountant and the vet.

For me, it was a lifetime,
of waiting just to see
Just how the Mt. Potts studio
would handle this tradgedy.
There were no words of sorrow,
no expressions of regret;
just a tricky situation,
that the world would soon forget.

 

Systematic Humiliation

Isn’t that the name of the game,
turning people against each other?
Reality is a TV thing.
These are the days of ‘Big Brother.’

We’re all watching your every move;
what you eat and how you chew;
how you hurt and how you love;
who you hate and whom you screw.The idol mind is the Devil’s lair,
he’ll make himself right at home
and manage how you cut your hair,
so the school can send you home
because of certain standards,
and YOU set a bad example
by emulating some rising star,
though temptation is more than ample.
Trouble is, we’ve come too far
to turn it all around;
the past is always history;
the dead are underground;
or scattered on the winds of time,
like ‘'Gorillas in the Mist',’
haunting us with memories,
while the living just get pissed,
in vain attempts to slow the pace
that we vault into the future,
denying our mortality,
collecting cuts and sutures,
while our children learn the hard way,
how to hold their heads up high,
trying to win an education,
and not lose a twinkling eye.

 

Right is Might

Once she was a shining star,
a beacon in the night
for a world beset with trouble and disparity .
Her constitution guaranteed
that everybody might
engage their rights to happiness and property,

and every day, to rich and poor,
was a blessing, to be sure,
who sang their humble praises to the Lord,
who promised to look after them
in peacetime and in war,
and obedience became it’s own reward.

Around the world, her reputation
was way beyond rapproach,
for many years unquestioned as her flag
flew proudly over fifty states,
while she became the coach.
In the free world game, yeah, she had it ‘in the bag;’

but to them whom much is given,
there is often much required,
and pride is that which goes before a fall.
The Earth is not yet Heaven,
with all that has transpired,
and few are chosen,
though multitudes are called.

America the beautiful,
America the bold,
America the leader and the best;
the one who makes the rules,
and oft the one who owns the gold;
perhaps it’s time to take the acid test.

When anyone of us believes
that God is on our side,
we could be underestimating others
who appear to have no fear of death,
or hell, or suicide,
like Bin Laden and his disaffected brothers.

So, if the God of peace and love,
forgiveness and redemption,
who hates the sin, yet always loves the sinners,
is asked to choose between hawks and doves,
and those held in detention,
odds are that he won’t be picking winners,

though some are evil and many good,
a few are truly free,
together they create the world to come,
but until the leaders find
they can agree to disagree,
I’ll reserve my faith in the land of deaf and numb,

where neo-cons, with blood stained hands
will steal to gain control
of a system which is guaranteed to fail
promoting further chaos over deserts rich with oil,
as anger and atrocities prevail,

In spite of all the changes
brought about by years of war,
as a culture we still imitate the beast;
the great all mighty eagle
versus Babylon the whore,
a frightful combination, to say the least.

It’s a sorry situation
that we face in these last days.
The weaponry has overkill in mind,
And the greatest of all nations
is just going through a phase,
that could elect the end of humankind.

But, not to worry, God has not
abandoned us full stop.
He always gives us time to make mistakes;
and if we choose to lose the plot,
like our incumbent global cop,
He’ll finish us with hurricanes and quakes.

Word Play (2002)

Superstitious Me

Moses went down to the sea,
to speak to God Almighty.
He shouted, “set my people free,”
and the Lord said, “Well, all righty,

but I might just ask my Taniwha
to assist in your endeavor.
He might just give you what you want,
for you see, he’s very clever.

He’ll swallow with the rising tide,
and you can walk along the seabed,
then when you reach the other side,
he’ll turn his mighty head,

spewing all the captured sea,
back onto Pharoah’s troops,
destroying all their persecution,
and you’ll be safe, but, oops;

there is one minor point of law
that requires consideration,
which is the fact that Taniwha
is awaiting legislation

to determine if his habitat
is belonging to the Crown,
and until he can determine that...
he may just let you drown."

Where would we really be , in truth,
if it werent for propaganda?
We tend to disregard the facts,
and believe the gossip and slander.

We used to hate the communists,
the facists, and the gooks;
and now its all the terrorists,
as the world puts up its dukes;

but for all the fear and hatred,
war is usually a dumb thing.
It never seems to sort things out,
but am I missing something?

If you decide to kill someone
out of fear of being killed,
youve removed the chance to make amends,
and all the bloods been spilled,

but then again, you may have saved
your own life for a day,
and made a few more enemies,
but to your own dismay,

youll have to kill again tomorrow,
the next day, and the next;
and keep on killing till you get them all,
when you put it all in context.

So, whats the real reason,
that we fear the other side;
and will we all be better off,
after all of 'them' have died;

or will we find that we're all victims
of our own stupidity,
as we wander up the garden path?
I guess we'll just have to see...

Priority Dash

They argue over welfare, law and order,
and cuts in taxes;
a donkey in the dunny, wasted money,
but the fact is...

there’s nothing like the rugby
to turn them ALL into slappers,
one mention of the Bledisloe Cup
and they’re going like the clappers.

Now, the road from down Waimate way
is long and flat and straight;
so, HIT IT DUDE, it would be rude
if the P.M. turned up late.

The police commissioner gave the nod.
The lights began to flash.
The pedal hit the metal,
“We’ve just got to beat Don Brash”

You know, there must have been a leak somehow
in security that day
because almost before you knew it,
the opposition was on it’s way,

with sirens screaming from the beehive
and on either side of the road,
while pedestrians ducked for cover,
avoiding being mowed

by two tax-funded motorcades
and our topmost politicians,
competing for a photo op
on the run up to next year’s elections.

Thank God no one was injured,
maimed, or killed along the way.
It would have been quite embarrassing
for the cops and the LTSA

Thank God the public took the view
that it was all in the spirit of fun.
Thank God for all small miracles
and thank God the All Blacks won.