Auckland Poetry.com

Ode to the Clinker-built kauri cutter. New Lynn Sea Scout Cutter 73 Manukau
A dedication to mariners lost at sea

SHADOWLESS SEA
Manukau loose your tethered painter:
just one more time for me
slap your polished belly
upon this belligerent sea.

Manukau let your bow plunge:
to gulp the cooling liquor
that slakes your wicked thirst
that swells your kauri lungs

Rise up brave Manukau:
to taste the dripping sticking spume
rise up
to fight and not to heed the wounds.
Be prepared our Manukau

For this is no ordinary sea
no mere scudding sky
mere bruised and swollen tide
your mainsail sets to ply.

Alas Oh Manukau
your sailing days have ended
your crew has tossed their oars
their service has been rendered
way enough; blades fore and aft
Rejoice our Manukau

For this is no ordinary accolade
no mere fleeting cosmic adulation
mere brief delightful charade
this is your tiker-tape parade.

Oh Manukau turn away now
and do not gaze with awe
upon this shadowless sea
whose waves are made of straw
in aquatic nativity
Behold our Manukau

For those unyielding tides
we are powerless to subdue
have stolen our barnacled fortress
their sticky frothy heads
leave a crooked smile on the beach
for everyone to view.

Geoffrey S D Cooke 07/10/2009

You’re shallow as a pool of dirt,
In which your semi-force has drowned.
Your words are pointless and absurd;
You spread your helplessness around.
You hide behind your ego brand,
You contradict your each demand.

You’re freedom-proof, yet still aware
Of all the grieves of your position.
Wipe out the rust of your despair -
Your brand is someone else’s mission!
Your programmed life has gone astray,
Your days are like a failed replay.

freak warm wind, Chinook
scythe of Spring, windrows of snow
exposed earth, startled

Untitled 1

fuck you’s all
the messages have been
hard and fucked
pushed and fucked over
you give your silken purity
and its dirtied and hated
I love living
people don’t want me to
they feel threatened
they give sour air and crossed lines
how can we be free
cut it all away

written 28/4/95
by Vanessa Rare

Untitled 2

saying circle
doing square
meaning play
creating work
fond of air
eating smoke
yearning health
lusting abuse
talk to me
look at you
living for joy
thriving on pain
building a love
breaking a heart

written 8/7/90
by Vanessa Rare

Unleash the fire within
I am the animal that you love
Look at me, look at me!
And love me or love me not at all

I no longer care for your acceptance
I don’t need your judgment
The sighing and heaving
When you don’t even recognize that your breathing
The fresh air that I gave you

Unleash the animal within
So that you’ll begin
To recognize who you are
And not a victim
Nor a goat, or a cow
Or a creature of great power
Nor a bird, or a flower
Or a frightened deer-like thing
Or a wee bee insect of shocking sting

Who am I?
I don’t know
But I don’t mean to impress you
Or explain and exaggerate
With the blah and the lah
I am who I am
And that’s me
The animal within

Janet Feast

Copyright © 2009 by Janet Feast

An oath we all agreed to,
Set the foundation for us to begin,
At ease our minds were put,
Together we talked freely.

Though we come from many paths,
Intertwined we have now become,
United in one commonality,
Our struggles have just begun.

We listen intently to others,
Trying to find what we can use,
Not all that is said will be implemented,
A lot will be filtered through.

Exposed to each other we now are,
Alone we are no more,
The healing has to start with in,
Only with help can this be done.

New tools to learn,
Have back up plans,
Mistakes will still be made,
After all we are still human.

The key thing to remember,
Is what’s really at stake,
A happy productive family,
Or your childen being taken by the state!

You pray to angels with dirty wings,
Buy mercy and sell it,
Your rotten selfishness fucking stinks,
Dozens of cities smell it.
Your dirty sluts own golden cunts,
Justice smells just like dough,
Bribes, euro-bucks and some public stunts
At crusty First Channel’s shows.

Your cash green eyes and your whiskey blood
Rule pointless decisions,
You, big knobs’ dicks, are too deep in mud
Far beyond your own vision.
Newspapers vomit your ugly words,
Your promises are inflated,
The laws have turned into global swords,
The world is humiliated.

Every mans dream,
is to leave something behind,
to leave a mark,
something to remember him by.

I’m not rich, nor poor,
a limited education I have,
but people will remember me,
because of what I’ve said.

What makes me so special,
that I still don’t know,
it seems people like to read about,
what goes on in my little world.

Small little pieces,
that will eventually make a whole,
then everyone will know me,
I will be completly exposed.

I will live on,
immortalised by my words,
my claim to fame will be,
my voice was finally heard.

I need a maid
to clear the roaches and ash
off my desk
I need to work
so I need a maid
to smell my sheets and
make my bed
I trip on a shoe
I need a maid
Cause I’ve got better
things to do

by vanessa rare
3 Nov 97 ©