Beekeeper Jacinda

what’s currently at the forefront,
is the country’s ol’ guva’ment!

tellin’ us all in the country,
what we can do or what can’t we!

stirrin’ the hive is ol’ beekeeper jacinda,
seemingly tellin’ us all who’s the loser or winna!

not much honey’s bein’ made,
and such money’s bein’ paid

for this ‘oliday at ‘ome,
call ‘er ‘jacinda dry tinder’!

all ‘up in smoke’ they say,
can’t we call it a day!

not much more can we take!
they implore her to shake

that smoker just one last time:
we’re chokin’ ‘n’ busted up inside!

. . . . . .

but in this world are the wasps…
we’re hurled headlong into the grasp

of unseen viruses and maelstroms,
likes of past generations not seen.

other peoples’ countries laid low,
other economies ravaged by woe.

corrupt governments incompetent
at what tasks they were meant

to fulfill for the safety and
wellbeing of their people…

that inside the hive of Aotearoa’s pride:
its economy, its people, its land, its tried

and true forms of democracy, its history,
its advocations: of women’s leadership

and wisdom and integrity, kindness
and compassion, sits jacinda queen bee.

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Lovin’ The Level Three Lockdown

to love this level three lockdown
the devil in me wants a showdown
‘level-three-lockdown’ to the right
‘devil-we-know’, down for a fight

cursin’ on the left for all its lost money
the holidays, the mortgage, ‘the business, Honey!’
its rights, its resistances, the physical distances
the inconvenience, ‘the obedience to authority’ in this instance

set them to battle and you’d agree
there’d be many people out there rootin’ for ‘three’
the science, the reasons, the gratitude for this season
of alignment to good leadership, in little ‘ol-tearoa
compared to the weird (not wonderful) show o’er-
seas in the US, the UK, the OZ

it’s not childish submission or indignant adolescence
there’s more than two positions, there’s voluntary acquiesence
a maturity of both sides, knowing ‘now’s not the time to divide’
but unite in voluntary 𝘨𝘪𝘷𝘪𝘯𝘨 (giving up false pride)

for inside this may hide silver linings indeed
‘devil-we-don’t-know-deeds’ done for the other
the vulnerable, the needy (hell, also the greedy!)
seeding community unity & true forms of ‘immunity’:

the nation’s health, wellbeing, safety and freedom.

My Backyard

My backyard
Used to be mine
Before my landlady
Moved the chickenhut.
Now she comes on down
Like I imagine she fancies
She’s rolling down a tunnel
Long and smooth, past Tony’s
Twice a day to let the chickens run.

My backyard
Is a sloping square
Where I fill up on nature
Out by the firepit and duckbath.
But I gotta work on it ’cause my friend
She comes on down and I greet her warmly
And we talk together of ducklings and firewood
But really she wants to tell me the music’s too loud.

Animal Brethren and Sistren

It’s a brave man who asks us to consider our identity.
Jordan Peterson talks of the same.
Not to get attached to a ‘group’ identity,
To above all, be thyself.

If plant-based is a piss-weak term for one who
Refuses to buy into the bullshit and doesn’t eat animals –
Themselves, their parts, their anything.

And vegan is that aforementioned tendency
In its awesome branding power (‘We Are The Fucking VEGANS!’) –
So the pithole of getting too identified with what exactly ‘that’ word means…….

In the end, if vegan equally denotes what you DON’T eat, and then,
By sure and savage contrast – as well what you DO identify with –
And it sure as hell ain’t THAT FUCKING MURDERING AND DISMEMBERING AND EATING OF THEIR BODIES IN THEIR VERY MEAT-EATING WORLD! – then:

– – –

It is that ‘world’ of NATURE. We are the reflection of nature
And the world is a reflection of us. Perfect reflections.
Nature is where the animals are sleeping in their dreams.

We are wandering lost still, but they are there,
And we are the souls that could have something to
Say back to them.

Animal brethren and sistren.

Heard My First

Heard my first Christmas song today,
You need not know where.

Here we go again! Into the tinsel, the tacky,
The shiveringly weird and wacky

Father Xmas show comes to town again!
Starring third-world slave-made tinsel-crapola,

Weird adolescent adult idiots running around
With red noses and brown plastic antlers on,

The word ‘Christmas’ (Christmas! Christmas!)
Coming at you from every direction (Buy! Buy!)

Buy your friends, buy them with tinsel and crap
Made in China. Let the little ones suck on shit

Full of colouring and ‘flavour’ (ing!)
Ring the bells of commerce! Ring ring!

Ring the merry bells,
Cash registers register-ing

A massive Bling!
Angels weeping.