FISH AND QUIPS.
Pink whipped cream dawn
on the
tooth pick harbour.
An old mans clumsy dive
spooks filament sprung water.
I crush out my salt bitter
cigarette, click twice and
curse all squid assassins.
A zephyr of westerly stirs
float dive adrenalin.
The sharp eyed wharf throws up
a thumb print crooner,
fist mouthed, so very
tempura-mental.
Squawking of judas yellowtail,
trawler greed and
lemon butter saunas on
armistice day.
SPARROW SONG.
Cold steel excitement,
the cowboy thrill.
The big hand enfolds,
guides my impatience.
"Aim at the haw bush."
I close one eye in the
squint bright sun,
heart deaffened.
"Now squeeze."
Sharp crack and recoil,
a fluttering plunge.
Tears blur worm reddened grass.
Claws search and are still.
The once bright eyes,
glazed with my shame.
FOX TRITE.
Sensory gob smack.
A smug fox head on
chicken legs,
camphoric with
gin undertones,
backhands my mother.
"Doesn't your son
speak well for
someone from
his background."
FREAK.
Everyone pushed him around,
the eccentric switch hitter.
Lover of Batehoven in the
rocking fifties,
ba ba ba
boom.
He claimed the music teacher
molested him in his flat to
the strains of Mozart.
He fawned over exotic
Trishna with the big tits,
swore undying love until a
pretty boy joined the class.
Sport, a major source of
villification,was an alien
affront to his limp wrists.
The sideburn mafia hung him
naked over the schools water
tank on his last day, got
drunk and forgot about him.
Individuality and culture
spat in their dull brute
faces and had to be punished.
They'd be jailed today.
RAZOR.
she was bone skinny
no tits pale rat faced
barrel scraper any port
in a storm type where i
was living at the time a
female jack the ripper
psycho slaying my ego
with her land mine eyes
lopping off my sad dick
with her razor laugh
although it was of no
real use
apart
from
taunting
me or
pissing
through.
SHREK.
Shrek the hermit, what a hero.
In his mountain refuge, celibate. Or did he
trot down the hill for the odd bit of fleece?
Evading autumn musters, sod ewe, I'm keeping
it. Who said they were dumb. Put's a whole new
perspective on sheep jokes.
Put Benigo station on the map.
The cage fighter carried him down like Jason,
and just as golden if they milk it right.
They all want a piece of him.
The highlanders want him for the front row.
Reckon he'll add brains to the pack.
Scientists want to check him out.
See how he ticks.
Next thing they'll be electing him to
parliament.
Look out Helen Clark. Finally a candidate
with balls and credibility.
Not to mention charisma.
Watch out for Shrek reading the news.
Hosting breakfast.
Shrek of the rings. Shrek cave tours.
One thing's for sure, his chops are safe.
He'll probably be listed on the stock
exchange.
Create a whole new term - Wether market.
I wouldn't keep him though.
It could lead to anarchy.
Imagine in the future, millions of sheep
hiding all over N.Z.
It could bring the country to it's knees.
On second thoughts, send him to Australia.
You can finally get square for the underarm fiasco.
Revenge is sweet.
