Auckland Poetry

hello you,
as my eyes burn to a red dust
my chest swallows whole
as you take my breath away
again

morning,
as my lungs explode
breathless and withered
its your voice that keeps me alive
once again

goodnight,
your nowhere to be seen
just a memory replying the days with you
and still you’ve become a part of me
no not again

get away,
before its an obsession
my hand in yours isn’t a symbol
its a life i want to live.

how do you make me feel the way i do?
and it just so happens to be the way i want it to be

Work Of Jeff Wong “Phoenix theory”

Never Look Back.

The hamlet was quiet, dogs asleep,
on this rainy afternoon’s spring day
when I said adieu.

Ten years I dad spent here, good
sad and lonely days, whitewashed
walls and green weed in sunlight

An abundance of flowers in pain
pots and rusty buckets by doorways
their beauty…a sad heartache.

I lingered, so did the day, hoped
someone would come out and say
no one did, the silence dripped.

I drove through the dreamy vale’s
Scented air and reached the coast
as night fell. The sea was calm.

Le Grand Duc

Is a café in Brussels where everyone know each
other and there are kisses and handshakes many
times a day. I sat reading my newspapers when
I remembered that the brother of the queen of
Belgium had been a playboys and a pianist, who
didn’t get to be famous before his sister married
the king. I thought him a sad man, with a thin
mustache, he smiled often, but the humour never
reached the eyes. Then he faded out of the picture
I don’t know why, he wasn’t really the material
of a man linked to easy women and platitudes, he
knew he was only a mediocre given engagement
through his connections. So he died then a man
who never got to live the life he wanted to.

The Wedding

Brussels national airport is designed by a fitness fanatic
or a sports committee, I walked for miles to find its exit
I needed a whisky after all this travail but they had none,
settled for a beer, and yes, it was cold and refreshing.

I took a taxi, expensive, the journey ended at a small inn,
near the national Basilica, the inn was still serving food
I had a sausage and drank a few more beers went to bed
and dreamed about the summers of my childhood.

Brussels in summer light is attractive, mainly because of
its architecture and many trees which make any citycape
more beautiful, glad the Belgians like trees, but I would
have liked to see the trees look more natural and at ease.

In the morning next day I visited the basilica. It was built
after the second world war in honour of the war dead, it
is the most impressive religious edifice I have ever seen,
and it represented all that is good in our hearts.

Tomorrow I’m going to a wedding it’s an African affair,
people will be in good mood, food laughter, music and
and plenty of wine; but today I will walk around, look at
houses and people… and, of course, drink a few beers

let me be the other woman in this life

let me be her instead of your wife.

I’ve been doing a lot of thinking baby,

I can see where I’ve been wrong

You’ve had to settle down with me and

your tired of being tied down

I understand it baby I’m tired too,

lets stay together; I’ll do whatever you want to do.

you gotta believe me when I say this

I knw whats been going on; see some women will do

anything to keep their man, I’m willing to be that

way too, I’ll do it for you…..

I could’nt stand to lose you, I can’t give you up , oh’ no

I’ve got too much time in with you and i’m not letting

you go…gooo

no way no matter what you say…ay aaaayyyyy

listen to me ; listen to mmmmeeeee b–a–b-y

I’ll be that othe woman……I’ll beeeee tttthhhaaattt other woman

she cant give you anything that I dont have

and if I dont have it I’ll go get it

I’ll do it for you your worth it to me , I’ll do it for you baby I’ll do it for you….ooooo

you are my world and I ain’t loosing you for no other girl.

I never said this to no other guy………but i’m telling you

there aint nothing I wouldnt do….for you….

thats how much I love you…

let me be that other woman …..instead of your wife

let me be the one , let me be her.

I want to know what it is that she’s been doing so I can do it tooooo

what ever it is I can do it for you….

you can divorce me , have another woman on the side

just dont leave me hanging behind, I cant let you go

I’ll be that main event that turns you on

I’m gona be that other woman, Im gona be whats

going on….ain’t gona be no other way , no matter what

it take she ain’t taking you away.

just tell me what you want, b-a-b-y   I love you

what can I do to keep you….I  cant let you go

i’m in love with y-o-u

oh my bones , they ache with pain.  it’s that old arthur acting up again . from head to toe, from my knees to my elbows.

would anyone understand, or do they even want to know.

the agony I feel I try not to let it show.

I go to the doctor to ask for relief ;

he looks at me with a sigh of grief.

he says he wants to help.

so he gives me meds for the pain.

this old arthur bothers me every day

it dont care come sun shine or rain.

just to pay the doctor bills is driving me insane.

why should i lie , i have nothing to gain.

I don’t like how it feels, I don’t like taking pills

and it shur don’t give me a thrill.

my toes are all crunched and they hurt a whole bunch.

whenever I go out somewhere, it hurts to walk..

I’m so out of breath I can hardly talk.

not to mention the fact that I even have pain in the small of my back.

Oh’ I know its no crime to hear someone wine,

but I wish I didnt have so much pain all the time.

a wheelchair might help but I dont like to bother..

I’m not the kind to make fuss or hollar. I try not to worry,

but with all these aches ……..

when I do find a lover ..they wind up to be fakes.

see..I don’t want my family to think Im a flake

so I have to put up with it no matter what it takes.

can you imagine how my fingers have a twist, it hurts all the

way through my knuckles to my wrists.

with all this mess, its no wonder I’m pist,

if I explained it all I’d have to big of a list.

man ‘ I hope this crap ain’t contageous I wouldn’t want

to give it to my family or friends.

I figured it would be bad, when it first began.

my shoulders get achy and thats not all

my friends all go out and they have a ball, I’m stuck

in my chair to stare down the hall.

I sit here alone with this arthritis problem

cant go to far cause if I aint limpin I’m wobbeling.

Won’t do no good to moan or groan, I consider my self to be lucky

to still live at home.

althou I do need a brake for goodness sakes

how much of this am I expected to take.

I don’t think its funny, this ol arthritis is no joke

especially when it hits us older folks.

I worked hard all my life and kept my family a good name

sometimes I feel useless , this puts me to shame.

well’ to some people  I know I’m a pain in the butt,

Just wish there was someway to get out of this rut.

when i think about it I feel like a slouch…so I just grab my pills

and take a nap on the couch..

this disease should leave me alone ..get out of my

life and out of my bones.  stop destroying people and what time they

have left in their homes.  so here’s to mr. arthur you slithering

snake aking people lose their balance and causing them

to shake..you’r no good to life no one wants you around,

you won’t be bothering us when the rite medacine is found.

so that is my story ,some ome please fin a cure, I’m not the only one with arthritis i’m sure.

after hearing all this my Doctor was confused, he said he was glad not to be in my shoes..the meds they did help me but I need some love,

I asked him to put the word out to help people like us, read this to patients and tell others to think of all of us  who suffer from arthritis and don’t be afraid to give a relative or a friend a big hug.

God bless you all , that ol arthurs got gall

he will attack anyone, watch you’r step and don’t fall.

My American Family

I have a half brother in Arizona and a half sister in Idaho,
they know of me but pretend not to, mother told them before
she died, that she had a child before she married their father.
My brother has a ranch, is a congressman, tall, square jawed
and wears a white cowboy hat. I’ve written him many letters
they always come back stamped “not known at this address.”
I do understand he preaches family value and morality, if it
should come out that his own mother had been a bit of a tart
in her youth, he may not be re-elected again.
My sister has enormous fields of potatoes, she also has a pig
farm, she never bothers to answer my many letters, but I bear
no grudges, she is into politics too she is the mayor of a small
town on the plain. When her potato fields were swamped with
flood water and all her pigs drowned, I sent a letter of empathy
and for the first time she answered, denied she was my sister
and told me not to send anymore begging letters. Me! I only
asked if she could send me a packet of bacon flavoured potato
crisps and she took umbrage. As I said I bear no grudges I’m
panning for gold in the Rio Seco, Portugal and when I’m rich
they will like know me and we will be a happy family again.

Unlucky for Some

For fifty years he worked long hours, in
a low paid job, and cunningly saved his
money so his dream could come true.

At seventy he bought a handsome car,
a Mercedes that reflected, on its shiny
body, the moon and twinkling stars

The car is still there, outside his hut, it
shines ok, but has lost its lustre, petrol
so dear, that his dream cannot be driven.

Unfair World.

12 brave piglets fled the flooded farm in
Idaho scampered up a levee grunted and
looked for things to eat… fat chance.

Porkers, even the sweet ones, have no
business on a levee, it is quite unheard of
and can only lead to dire consequences.

Fairy tales have happy endings, the valiant
gets to live long in the land, real live,
however is a sorry affair…for all of us.

The 12 piglets, their bravery unrewarded,
were used as target practice by men in blue;
they never even got to be a Sunday roast

As an after thought it is odd to think had
the piglets been inedible dogs they would
have been saved and given a loving home.

Tanka.

Western way of life
Rests on Middle Eastern oil
If crude tap is off
It is us that will suffer most
The Bedouins have camels

Tanka

Electric cars
Were made a century ago
Now they are in vogue
Oil spivs have made their money
So let the wilderness bloom.

Fear of Her

I saw your
lace curtain
move
but lumber
aired
is your home
and I will not
enter
and risk
falling asleep
in your bed
and forever
see the world
outside
through
a fine knitted
mesh
and sapped
by manly
strength
end up doing
the dishes.

The Promise.

The sea was oily looking calm and dark
perhaps marine life had died and turned
it into a pool of nothingness.

I sat in a dingy in the chill of loneliness
wrapped in a banner used 1st of Mays by
workers, asking for justice and freedom.

Now their request didn’t matter the world
had sunk beneath the sea like a Titanic, hit
by the iceberg of religious zealotry.

24 tins of tuna fish and 18 litre bottle of
water, enough to take me to an island
I had sailed past and often dreamed of.

One morning I saw a dolphin swimming
along the boat it had sought my company
and I was no longer vastly alone.

Then time stopped, days didn’t matter there
were no tomorrows, dreams and reality were
one, and we heard the green gecko sing.

Then days returned the sky blue and seas
translucent green, the world had healed
itself and the dolphin was no longer alone.

I nailed the banner, with its empty promises
of freedom, to the mast and at sunset set sail
to the island of my dreams.

The Consequence

The door into the bar was narrow I stood outside
waited for a couple to come out. When they did
the woman carried a dead baby in her arms, said
it was mine, handed it to me; I refused to take it,
my wife’s abortion, more than forty years ago,
had nothing to do with me, we had agreed then
that time wasn’t right for us to have a child.

The waif opened its eyes stretched out tiny arms,
called me papa, I took the child in my arms, and
no longer an “It,” I stroked her golden hair, cried,
said sorry. The couple had gone back into the pub,
layers of years but I recognized her face, for her
it was too late, at sunset I walked into the woods
and buried my baby alone.

The Acting Profession

The scene was set I was to walk into the lobby
ask the man behind the desk if so and so was
at the hotel, I was then to look around studying
the faces of the other guests, which would make
the viewers think I’m a detective or an assassin
with a slight limp. We waited Roger Moore,
the star of the movie, he was late, and then it was
lunch, hamburgers and cold beer. The star came
in the afternoon and everyone applauded.

It was decided that my role wasn’t needed, they
handed me a newspaper and I was now one of
hotel the guests. The shooting took about an hour,
they paid me in cash and I took the bus back to
town. At a traffic light on red, I looked down, saw
Roger, sit in the back of a chauffeur driven Jaguar,
a polite man, he looked up, I think he remembered
me, and waved

poetry

it lies at the bottom of

bottles of bitter wine dead on the floor

it whispers from its hiding place

on the edge of the dirty razor blade in the bathroom cabinet

it walks into the house

just as your lover walks out on you

and

it holds your hand

when all you were reaching for

was a straw

=================

Stephen Tee c2008

here i am between the great white walls,
where i stand alone again,
stained in red still not dead,
nor am i sold to the devil found inside of me,
its getting cold, now i have found a destiny.

blacking out, I’m not backing down
and still the demon’s talking to me.

“theres no reason here,
give your life up to me,
she is gone not yours to have,
so give it up, your all alone”

i understand your point of view,
but is there another way?

“I am your demon!
I am your reason!
I’ll be closer to god than you’ll ever be.”

No,
I’ll live today and see the morning light,
I’ll follow the night to see the world ahead of me,
Get back in, as i clean the walls again.

Work Of Jeff Wong “PhoenixTheory”

…and when i have left you
because the promises collected dust
and the draught of your voice
has withered the bunches of words
i held out to you in posies,
will you recall that i was honest,
that i wanted to breathe into you a life,
to see wonderment take your body.
That I craved to hold you above all others
until your nose met the moons.
I hoped to show you
how by longing alone,
I could offer you forever,
and with a steady gaze
you could ride above the horizon
never troubled by how lightly we are here.

come on and love all over me

come on and love all over me

and hold me close to you tonight. I know if

I have you evrything will be alright.

promise to take me where ever you go,

we are blessed and our love will always grow.

“come on and love all over me”

you have been an angel since we first met,

and I havent stopped loving you yet.

you have been putting a smile on my face for years

sometimes I use it to cover up those happy tears.

come on and love all over me

and hold me close to you tonight.

as long as I have you, everything is

is gona be alright.

the memories we share can never be replaced

our home has always been a very happy place.

even though we are getting older, we can both

see….I still got you and you still got me…

we have been together for so long

that just proves to us that our love for

eachother has been really strong, I’m so happy

we kept hanging on.

lets continue to climb up those mountain peaks

we will still kiss each othes rosie cheeks.

we will still go out for dinner and leave the

waitresses a tip and we promise not to forget ,our

favorite honymoon trips… see we believe in

eachother and we learned to forgive..for that

I will love you for as long as I live… remember…

that is how love is supposed to be…….

me loving you and you loveing me.

thank you for being exactly who you are,

I want you to know that” when I picked you.”..

“I picked a star.” you are my star,thats who you are.

come on and love all over me.

come on and love all over me

she’s in love with a man that is her age times two.
she has two children by him and say’s another ones due.
he works hard every day and brings home all his pay.
they live happily together and no faults do they share.
for to some they have wondered, if to her is it fair?
she don’t let it bother her…she’s in love and don’t care.
a good provider he is and to her a great man,
some women are jealous, yep ! guess we could understand,
for guy’s like that there in great demand.
so, needless to say, the next question was…
for whatever its worth ,was old age ever an issue
or was it just to give birth….
he wanted to make sure he left his name sake
she explained to her family this is no mistake.
if he dies before her everything will be o’kay.
I”ll be left with my kids and a lump some of pay.
as long as he loved her and treated her kind,
did’nt leave her broke or in any kind of a bind,
she said she loved him even if he were blind.
the other ladies looked at her often with doubt…
she let them know that she never did without.
she sent them a message saying she paid them
no mind, she knew that a good man like him
would be real hard to find..you should go look
around and find one on your own
cause you wont get this one , he is all mine.

From the crest of a wave

falling

falling

as hard and as dark as hell.

Everything is above me

swirling out of control.

My screams echo silently,

nobody is there,

no one will take me away.

It consumes me

taking away everything that is mine.

Taking the lot

leaving behind splinters of pain.

And still, after so long I am struggling

and fighting and stumbling,

grappling with all that is me.

Even the highs are tainted

baiting me, not letting up.

Can I say I have lost control

Did I have it to begin with.

My life is a lie, a dirty cavernous secret.

The monster that lurks within

took away everything.

Before I had realised - it was all gone.

Wrath of God?

A pig farm in Iowa flooded, sixteen hogs got away
scampered up a levee where they stood not knowing
what to do. There is something unseemly rude, about
the artiodactyls mammal, like white, fat middle aged
men in a sauna; then the grunters were shot, one can’t
have shoats hanging about on a levee. Yes, greatly
unfair, I agree, but porkers are bred to be killed.

Like the young fellow who narrowly escaped death
in a car accident, only to be blown up in Baghdad
when sitting in his armoured auto eating an apple.
Up there an eagle flew, he grabbed hold of its feet,
in the hope it would help slow the descent. The nude,
the feathery and the dead. (Symbolism accidental)
Unfair? Yes, indeed, but what are soldiers for?

Generations Past.

When I get up in summer nights air in the rooms
of my old cottage are dense with souls of those
who lived here before. As I stir the air they move
away they don’t see me but feel a presence that
they think of as a passing ghost.

Young souls are fearful but are told that ghost
means no harm to anyone and that is perhaps true.
Sometime I hear murmurs, voices of sorrow
but also of pleasure, it is life lived which unseen,
relive itself endlessly.

In autumns when the rooms get cold, in a home
made of stones, I light the fire the souls settle in
the wall behind the hearth and the cottage grows
silent as we wait for a new spring.

The Diggers

In a museum, on the Isle of Man, there was displayed
a Viking’s tooth and it was brown, not from smoking
mind, the tobacco plant hadn’t been imported to

when a child. There was little else left of the Viking
that’s why I ask: how did the archeologists know
that this tooth had belonged to a Viking? He could have
been a crofter who secretly smoked dry oak leaves,
because it kept colds away. He could also have been
a sheep rustler- which is far less romantic than being
a horse thief- and knifed to death by irate farmhands.

Archeologists are a strange lot, give them a rusty nail
and they construct a cathedral, or some other godly
house; should you find a piece of a wine cup, they will
tell tall tales orgies, fig leaves and Roman canapés,
but they can’t find the wrist watch I lost in the year of
1985, in Chester- England- where Roman soldiers used
to bivouac drink wine and eat fried dormice while
cursing the Cesar who had sent them to this rain cold,
ungodly country where the people are so white they
look like green ghosts in moonlight. So you see there is
no doubts about it, archeologists are poets with shovels.

Tanka

Six nuns in a boat
They stop rowing, lift up oars
And pray to their god
From oar blades drips innocence
That sparkles in summer light.