of blue butter

When the jewel of the nile lacks lustre and motivation
when the ticking of moments lose their allocation
and the temperate mind climate seems unobtainable
and the elements neither bother nor excite
you wonder what crumb is left
you ponder for a moment you forget how long

when the arrow drops from lack of speed
when the marrow in your bones wont do the deed

and the wind is not felt
and the final hand seems dealt

you cant but study the erosion on your plan
you seem to embrace the thought how did I ever think I can

lonely for a crowd to be lost in
lonely for a voice above the din
of silence

We told Bubba the cat WOULD NOT like it in the dinghy...

THE LAST TRIP

..and as the sun set over Te Waihora this evening..I knew we had become a super race..... with a huge majority of the western world on happy pills and moving like we never did before-is this a parallel to the fall of the roman empire?

Its time to de-gadget ourselves and re-gadget with none but our basic instincts....

As children we peered over the edge

as children we dared and begged

when 3 drink bottles were a thrup'enny bag o' chips

when ice creams were gods

and chocolate blocks were gold

and time only mattered to grownups

oh the things we were told

oh the ease to which we believed

oh the ease of all we accepted

and oh what a time we had....

i must go back and drag my invincibility forward..




stretch it mould it wear it to feel

bouncy and unpunctured again

















The more agates I find at the beach..the more uses i find for them.."finding agates" still has that treasure hunt feeling... albeit with less exhuberance..and more cool energy saving movements..cept when the odd wave creeps up my backside..







































Im always thinking about ..the agates grinding journey down mountainsides and rushing cold rivers,along the coastline up and down the sandpapering stones,only to end in a klink on the gravel banks up against the mighty cliffs of Horomaka..Are these the parallel of my own bones intrepid travellings?Do the seasons remember how their mighty forces collide and force the outer shell to rub off beyond repair?
Outer shells are mostly overrated..though they sell so much..Land..food..houses..lifestyles..I find the world clutching its (look better) shell way long after the repairs started to show..
-My repairs have often been on show..and I have met so many others who show their repairs..I worship the individualism it causes..
..Like a few others I like jumping on the other side on the odd occaision..but now cant be fucked dressing for it...Codes of acceptance are crumbling due to the labeled set not knowing who they are without their shrink and a mirror..
The days might be gone of me riding long distances with 100 horsepower under my ass attached to two wheels and I miss them like i miss my teeth..for the motorcycle gave me a beautiful free-to-air im not here or there..power to pass,cruise,opinionate or be absolutely no-where but still goin somewhere.....




















I lay on the bed swimming in sweat, gulping warm air-


-the neighbours toilet flushing and the odd midnight car swishing by-


-reminded me of the crashing waves at te Mata hapuku





-my feet twitched and shook


-my mind dog paddled the long process of the building ..process


-would it be more months of waiting..waiting..





The bed seems somehow part of me .. as I tossed


-and turned the bedclothes followed my sticky shape


-in and out of the tide of sleep nails dolphins and roof trusses intermingled..





Horomaka Horomaka my dream voice whispered amid the washes of suburbia





..wish wash...flush...


...