Auckland Poetry

intercity

Gisborne to Auckland

last time I took this trip my life was never the same again

9 and a half hours

never the same

the pivotal, cathartic, life changing 9 and a half hours

of a drive

change from the drive?

or

what preceded the drive?

the drive

the full stop on “that” stage of my life

kibosh

on “that” stage of my life

stage?

or war?

survival, struggle, stress

stage?

the stage is a much happier, fulfilling, magical place

not a stage, a war

the bus drive

the same bus drive home to tamaki

the one I took 20 years ago

never the same

here it is

right here now

a chance to let “it” go

a chance to change

pushed to change

or the miracle of destiny?

cause and effect?

or change from pressure?

meant to be

the miracle of milestones

the miracle

the nine and a half hour bus drive

a signpost

a flag

the 2^nd great mark in my life

oh that drive, 20 years ago

I wish it was that same successful journey

it worked

effective

the milestone

come on what about now

make it work

what now?

what next?

whatever I want

written 3 jan 07 by vanessa rare COPYRIGHT 07

MANAGE

RESPONSIBLY

UNDERSTAND

IMMEDIATELY

RIGHT NOW

OVER POPULATION

CREATING

CONSUMERISM

CAPITALISM

FASCISM

RACISM

SEXISM

EMASCULATION

FEMINISM

SEPARATION

DESPERATION

ANTI HUMANISM

GLOBALIZATION

SURREALISM

CREATING

MANAGING

OVER POPULATION

by vanessa rare

Copyright © 2007 by Vanessa Rare

Motorway Driving

After driving on the new motorway, called autostrada here,
I began to panic; there was endlessness about it no beginning
no end, no exit, I was trapped forever doomed to drive fast
for no reason whatsoever, I began to see spirits of those who
had driven too fast, as holistic beings perpetually repeating
the accident that made them unseen, I heard metal shrieking
in a heart rendering agony only things made of earth can do,
unlike plastic that is a product of deadness and suffers no pain.

Blood filled my windscreen first as drops, then it became as
tropical rain, a deluge, a river of blood of the innocent and
the guilty, all expendable figures, as we tacitly accept this;
the automobile is power the whole society, all what we are, is
built on this shaky foundation. But we know nothing else and
will continue till the last drop of oil is extracted from the soil.
And as we sink into nihilistic despair the gypsy will continue
his slow progress, cart & horse, across the green landscape of
eternity

Senryu

To live sans regrets?
Possible if your heart is cold
And compassion’s frozen

Haiku

Summer is still here
Hoof it up from noon till five
As October sleeps

Haiku

Morning, yet still dark
Daylight hides in the basement
Thunder rules O.K.

Senryu

When Castro was young
Few cars drove on Cuba’s roads
Still driving though.

Wildlife Pleasure.

Tonight they serve giraffe neck, at the long
table in the restaurant, for fifty invited guests,
left over will be given to the poor who have
brought tin plates and metal spoons they bang
together to get attention and to make music.

They chatter about last week’s big meal when
a grilled gorilla was served at the round table,
with small oblong potatoes, rich gravy and
French wines but only for the chosen fifty.

Those outside were offered wine labels of
empty bottles to take home and decorate their
walls. Hippo stuffed with lions heart will be
next week’s menu, for afters monkey brains
sweetened with sherry Amontillado.