MY POETRY

ALPHABET SOUP

Ally Font

Living in Layard Sanctuary are animals big and small, 

But one of its larger babies was confused most of all.

  

She was rotund and grey saggy, with flappy happy ears, 

But her nose was long-dangly, more so than her peers.

 

This nozzley protuberance, wibble wobbling to hers toes, 

Was a great source of mystery which only her nose knows.

 

“Everywhere I look, I see nozzes small and round, 

Yet mines so dingly dangly it drags along the ground.”

 

“My nose must do something although I’m not sure how. 

I’ll go and find out, in fact I’ll find out right now.”

 

“What are you my furry friend, all covered in fine spots?” 

“You’ll find I’m a Leopard, if you join up all the dots.”

 

“Your nose is snuggly small and fits you so well. 

I’ll bet it’s good for snozzling and smelling a smelly smell”

 

“Indeed.” replied the leopard,” It suits me being a cat, 

But you can lift things with your nozzle; I bet you never thought of that!”

 

She reached down with her trunk and hoisted a stone into the air 

Then stretched around beside her head and stuck it in her ear.

 

She was ever so excited,” Had my nose actually just done that?”

So she picked up some cow dung and wore it for a hat.

 

Because she was having so much fun, furiously stuffing, plucking and grooming, 

She failed to notice a gigantic beast, from the forest, looming.

 

“Why Ally Font I’ve searched long and wide, but found you at last. 

I’m your great Aunt Sally Font, a friend from your past.”

 

She gathered Ally’s new skilled trunk and led her off to be free. 

To roam Africa in a pachyderm kind of way, as it should always be.

 

Brett Howes

Ardley Any Andy

 

Andrew Amark Assan The third,
Looked less like an Andrew and more like a bird.

His nose was ashen, all arty and beaky,
His ears always flappy, airy and freaky.

He was awkward with shoes, cause his feet were so long,
They arched up to his knees which seemed awfully wrong.

And although Andrew Assan was astoundingly tall,
He was so skinny, he appeared ardley at all.

So ardly anything of Andrew came to be called,
Ardley Any Andy, ardley anything at all.

Now Ardley lived in the land of Asput,
With Alwyn the Aardvark, who had only one foot.

He opped and he opped, around and around,
Then tripped on his tongue which hung to the ground.

He arked and arked as aardvarks do,
If you stood on your tongue, you’d ark a bit too.

“Oi stop all that arking” Ardley alluded to say,
But it came out “ Ashmillo” to Alwyns dismay.

“Ashmillo, Ardley Andy, did I hear you say?
Even for Aardvarks that sounds quite astray”.

“What appened to you Andy?” Alwyn asked not assured.
“I thought from alcohol, you were absolute cured?”

“Thought I was too, got ammered instead,
Now I’ve an ead acker”, he ashamedly said.

“Thought I was so cool, my Amigo’s said drink.
If I dont scull alchohol what would they think?”

They left me an addict, they don’t even care
My alcohol soaked life, is my cross to bare

Andy’s an airhead to let alcohol get hold
Get some help, reach out, be bold.

Alwyn agreed.
 

Boris Begott

 

A babbling baboon, was Boris Begott,
A baboon with a something, others had not.

His biggus blue something was south of his tum,
It stuck out and bobbled, a blue baboon bum.

Because of his blueness, poor Boris was stunned,
Red should be bobbled, blue should be shunned.

The band of baboons said he isn’t like us.
Over his bobbly blue bum, they all made a fuss.

Boris is beastly because blue bums are absurd,
Banish Boris Begott, boycott his word.

Poor babbling Boris became so bereft,
He took his blue burden and begrudginly left,

But is wasn’t long before Boris beheld,
A leopard called Barry, of baboon breath he smelled.

A banished baboon is a banquet to me,
But your bum is blue, I can blatantly see.

The band of baboons will soon come to dread,
Because my taste for bigots, is strictly red.
 

Bill

William S Whiting lives on Simpson’s hill
He’s known by a lot of names but is commonly called Bill.

Bill attended Pathetic School where he graduated top of his class,
Straight A’s in pitiful shaking, A plus in licking his ass.

His number one aim in life, apart from being fed,
Is to find a warm wuffly spot, tucked up in someone’s bed.

Achieving this clandestine goal, requires much cunning and stealth,
The idea is to curl up small and pretend he’s somewhere else

His ultimate nemesis is Phillip, a giant black Cat
Phil is the boss and that is that!

But Bill does have a sneaky plan, so daring it churns his tum
When the claws and teeth are just through the door, he bravely sniffs Phil’s bum.

Bill is a kind devoted foxy and as his boldness grows
He shows his love as best he can by sticking his tongue right up your nose.
 

Cheerily Christmas

 

Christmas comes, carefully cherish this day,
What Christmas means on the back of a sleigh.

Consider a chalice, of course the correct class,
A chintzy container could clearly not pass.

Covet a Cartier, chronometer so fine,
Costly and catchy, perhaps tell the time?

A collection of chains, clingy and clinkly,
Crenulate crystals, cherty and chinkly.

A coltish cat, Cuthbert the Third,
Dancing and prancing while consuming a bird.

Forget endangered, conservation decry
Must have brands, buy, buy buy.

Crocodile crevat’s, Ivory in pink,
A serval coat, a camisole mink

A colorful chameleon, clustered in curls,
A custard cockatoo, chilly in pearls.

The more we collect, the more we adore,
Must have it all, more, more, more.

Don’t stop there, a car for the cool,
Must contain bling and a small swimming pool.

A quicker computer, a Cuban cheroot,
Don’t forget clubs to cram in the boot.

Carunkular cheetahs, 20 carats per pen,
A calamatous camel, with one hump or ten.

A cocktail cruise, Caribbean at sea,
My boat must be bigger, bigger than thee.

Catchy Chalet, champagne and snow,
A callous Club, members only you know.

Christmas is glitz, must be seen, cost a ton,
What must you have, number one son?

Some time with you Dad
 

CRISPR-Cas 9

With Covid19 knocking on our shores and no vaccine in sight,

Spare a thought for bacteria that face a similar plight.

 

Viruses are the ultimate narcissist's who don't care if you live or die.

Their only job is to find a host, take over and multiply.

 

But a few lucky cells survive because their format has changed.

They now possess a viral spacer code, their DNA rearranged.

 

This new code acts like a memory and sounds the alarm when baddies call.

It programmes a protein Sheriff called Cas9, to go and hunt them all.

 

Equipped with this “Wanted Poster,” Cas9 cannot go astray.

It will target only the correct bogeys and cut their DNA.

 

Although using a DNA spacer from survivor cells, could produce a Covid19 vaccine,

This avenue of science is not, unfortunately, as simple as it seems.

 

Because Cas9 is programmable and very specific in its cause,

Using RNA coded Cas9 for gene editing, has opened many doors.

 

DNA has repetitive patterns called CRISPR's with random sequences in between.

Thus you can target a single code from three billion and change what it means.

 

Suddenly the mindlessness of natural selection can be over ridden.

What befalls the use of this technology still remains hidden.

 

Is it OK to select the perfect baby, both intelligent and strong?

Or could building a fearless soldier, be construed as morally wrong?

 

Is there a righteous high ground treating Sickle Cell or Huntingdon's disease?

Just don't draw an ethical line in my back yard, if you please.

 

Remember also, by modifying my DNA, the attribute won’t be passed on,

But start editing sperm or eggs and the trait will never be gone.

 

CRISPR allows us to stop the suffering of many living things.

Technology is neither good nor bad; it’s up to us to determine what it brings.

 

 

Dedicated to Jennifer Doudna and Emmanuelle Charpentier

 

Brett Howes

 

 

 

(CRISPR - Clustered Regularly Interspaced Short Palindromic Repeats) 

Cystic Ball

He began Johnny G; he grew up big and tall.

Then something went rotten and he became Cystic Ball.

 

Looking cool in his Holden Ute, bull bars on the front.

Anyone who held him up received a little shunt.

 

With zoster pox all over his head, he didn’t look the best.

In fact, some thought he’d taken flight, clean over the cuckoo’s nest.

 

A noted faecal hisser specialist, was a talent he loved to flout.

One day when demonstrating his prowess, something slyly slipped on out.

 

A self-professed fishing maestro, he grabbed a Mako for a lark,

And flipping the fish into the boat, exclaimed, “Look, its Fark the Shark.”

 

As pirate Ball, he pillaged too many scallops and ignoring his flabby girth,

Unloaded a sack from the boat and arsed over in the surf.

 

During a legendary train trip, on an upper bunk for his bed,

Ball felt a little ill, so he honked on someone’s head.

 

On his wedding day, the marquee leaked, so he proclaimed to one and all,

“Next time I do this folks, I’ll know to rent a hall!”

 

The guests were shocked, the bride upset and his chortling made it worse

But we all know he’s a little bent and call it the “Ballee Curse”.

 

Today he says “I’m less of the bent and leaning to the straight”,

For his sanity and all our sakes, I hope he’s not too late.

 

Some would suggest this outstanding CV skews him mildly black,

But he’s a bloody good mate and dubious friend, who’ll always watch your back.

Devils Back

Lord Yasur, “Are you friend or foe?”

Under your shadow, I guess I'll soon know.

Resplendent, eruptive, a great ashen stack.

Come to me, walk with me, on the Devils Back.

 

Your greeting raw power, smites me with thunder.

Escalating terror as the ground shakes asunder.

Moving and twisting up a rickety track,

I begin my walk on the Devils Back.

 

Over the edge I behold in awe,

A precipitous plummet to your a gaping maw.

A pitiless soul, demoniacally black.

Indeed, I'm walking on the Devils Back.

 

Disgorging lava from a throat of dread.

Welcome to hell, place of the dead.

Sulphurous breath, a precipitous crack.

Grovel mere minion on the Devils Back.

 

My eyes burn red in the acid for air.

Pain drawing me closer to Satan's lair.

Torture worse than a pillory or rack,

The Devil has me on his back.

 

So make a wish and make it fast,

Make it good, for it could be your last.

 

Come visit Tanna and see this sight

A real volcano in all its might

It roars and trembles, an adrenaline attack

I dare you to walk on the Devils Back

Dating 101

Dating and fishing are one in the same,

Both should be simple but neither a game.

 

So let’s go fishing, let’s have some fun.

Let’s get excited, catch more than one.

 

The ocean swells, rise and fall.

Todays the day, I’ll have it all.

 

Set the lures, not one but four.

Sky’s the limit and then some more.

 

The Ladies strike, the reels scream,

Four at once, an anglers dream.

 

Which reel to grab? They’ve all gone mad.

This selfish fantasy is turning bad.

 

Chaos ensues as lines are crossed.

The dream in ruins, all lures are lost.

 

The aftermath; a shattered glow.

Totally wrecked and nothing to show.

 

Try a single lure, see how it goes,

May succeed, who really knows?

 

With patience and trust, the reel screams.

She’s a beauty, the girl of my dreams

 

Multiple lures? You know the rest.

One at a time is always best.

Donkey Dave

 

Donkey Dave, was David Duzzant,
Do you think he’s called Donkey cause he looked like an ant?

No Donkey Dave was a dullard of note
Desperately dull, not one to dote.

The government did, the government don’t
They should, they won’t

He moans and decries all that he see’s
Still put’s out his hoof, doesn't say please.

They should do this, they should do that
Mr D Donkey’s done nothing of that.

He’s never tried anything, accomplishments nil,
Bemoaning others, his bitter pill. 

Knock the high poppy, make it fall
Donkey feel good, Donkey feel tall,

Donkey’s friend Duke tries very hard,
Whilst Donkey D Dave, wallows in lard.

Duke’s a dummy, can’t dance, can’t sing
Bad at his job, make a poor King.

Duke shouldn’t aim high, shouldn’t do well
Does this kind of talk have a familiar smell?

It’s all about Donkey, me, me, me.
About other people, he fails to see.

I want it now, can’t help myself
It’s never my fault, always the elf.

Wake up Dave Donkey, start looking around
Help other people, head out of the ground.
 

Earnest Ernest

 

Earnest Ernest worries too much
Is it up down or is it down up?

Was the Cat with the Hat in or out?
Did Dr. Seuss leave any doubt?

Ernest has an exam or is it a test? 
Ernest never thought just to do the best.

Didn’t get A, only a B
What will people think, woe is me.

Is this an emerald, a greenly hue?
Not the right greenly, what am I to do?

I’m going out, panic, what to wear?
So many choices, cause of despair.

Food not perfect, must complain,
Tomorrows weather, only rain.

Now my hair, total disrepair.
Wrongly streaks, I really care.

She’s too sassy, He hasn’t called
Like, like so gross, so appalled

Post my pictures, hundreds on line.
Must impress, not one maligned.

Worry, worry, all the way.
How will I get through this worrisome day?

My friend has cancer, will soon be dead.
What was I worried about, what was in my head?
 

Farts is Funny

 

Some say they're disgusting, some say they're art
But most of us snigger, at the humble odiferous fart

We don't laugh at burps nor the beating of a heart
Yet we all role round in hysterics, when one drops a fart

Some are loud, some are proud, some a stealth assassins brew
But we all find them funny, except a prudish few

So when did it become jocular, this passing of anal gas
Who was the first to slap their knee, at botty burps from the ass?

Did the English think a crap call, flatus or colonic cough?
Deserved a sly chortle, before the Visigoths?.

Perhaps the Romans found in turd tremors and bowel blowing earth,
The act of exhuming a dinner corpse, the cause of smirking mirth.

Or was it on Golden Chariots, smiling Greeks cut the cheese
Scything down the Persian dogs, butt yodeling in the breeze.

Maybe the Minoans fired fecal hissers on the shores of ancient Crete
While the King rattled rip arse splitters, asunder his royal seat.

But, I’m sure it was cave man Ogg, when expounding poo methane
Was accidentally Ignited, a source of anal pain.

The jet of flame soared out so far; it scorched paintings from the wall
And two Oggette’s lost their voof, charcoaled by the pall

By the time Ogg put out his fecal fume and laid his blackened butt to rest
The tribe was is total chaos, tear faced from the jest.

So when you next laugh at a Tootsie, blown from the poo
Remember your colon putty pooter, is nothing really new
 

Façade

 

You think you’ve made it when,
Your house is bigger than
And you live your life, by money flow.
Look at you, your pool is wetter than

But your cool is so cold you never grow

Take your time, think a lot.
Make the most of what you’ve got.
Take your time, it’s not a race.
Be yourself, there’s no first place.

You think your better when,
Your car is faster than.
You’re a veiled lie, a shallow show.
Look at you, a brand is better than
Self-obsessed and gold possessed, is all you’ll ever know

You think your richer when,
Your stash is higher than.
Must have more, it’s the only the way.
Look at you, your ego’s fuelled by air
But your life’s a farce, just an empty, lonely play

Take your time, think a lot,
Make the most of what you’ve got.
Reach out now and hold on
Because some day they will be gone

Wake Up come on Wake up and see, 
Drop all that poser crap, just be.
Live your life, don’t dwell on strife,
Open your heart, take time out and breathe.
 

Footprints On My Heart

Who waved the big finger but picked us up, off the mat?

Our friend, Policeman Pat.

 

Who always showed compassion when wearing a blue hat?

Our friend, Policeman Pat.

 

Who drove a Nana car, happy without the hat?

Our friend, Policeman Pat.

 

Who always wore a wide smile parked south of a white thatch?

Our friend Policeman Pat.

 

Who had the strength of a fireman but always stopped for a chat?

Our friend Policeman Pat.

 

Who always saw the good in people but could also smell a rat?

Our friend Policeman Pat.

 

Who saved a family of ducks and especially loved his cat?

Our friend Policeman Pat.

 

Who unconditionally loved kids and they always loved him back?

Our friend Policeman Pat.

 

We'll miss you Pat, you're one of the good ones, so sad you had to depart.

You touched and helped so many and left footprints on my heart.

 

For Patrick Hugh Doak .

 

Go in peace mate.

From the White House

The coronavirus, you know, the corona virus; This is is their new hoax.

Those democrats would do anything to win, they are very bad folks.

 

We have one coming in from china. We have it under control.

We have it in our sights. Won’t hurt a soul.

 

We have 15 people in this country and because of the fact we went early,

We could have had a lot more than that. Lucky I see clearly.

 

We’re doing great. Our country is doing great. I know what is right.

An apology to the Democrats, may have been polite.

 

This corona virus isn't such a rough patch. In fact very minor.

We pretty much shut it down, coming in from China.

 

In April it dies with the hotter weather. Its warm, historically in summer.

Unfortunately, it has to get to 140 degrees, that's a maxi bummer.

 

The 15 within a couple of days, is going to be close to zero.

Like a miracle it's going to disappear and I'll be your hero

 

They are going to have vaccines soon, who “they” are I'm not really sure.

Not only vaccines but therapies. Therapies is another word for cure.

 

Your talking very small numbers in the White House lobbies.

Our numbers are just about lower, lower than any bodies.

 

We'll be working out and a lot of good things are going to happen.

And we are responding with great speed, and professionalism.

 

I take no responsibility. Not my job. I make that very clear.

Yet J.F.K. said of the Presidential office “The buck stops here.”

 

This is a pandemic. I felt it was a pandemic long before it was called a pandemic.

All you had to do was look at other countries. It's all academic.

 

They will all be good, we're going to be so great.

This came up, it came up so suddenly. Crap, perhaps I'm too late.

 

Brett Howes

 

Authors confession; I only wrote 5% of this. The rest is word for word quotes from the White House

At the time of writing the USA had 104,000 covid-19 infections and over 1700 deaths

Gone Fission

Me and my mates where at school, on a crisp winters day.

But something felt very different, when we came out to play

 

Some kids from another school, I think from the French zone

Dumped radioactive crap on our play ground, instead of their own.

 

My friends, Rainbow and Fernando, said “That's really really bad,

They should leave it in their own back yard.” I sincerely wish they had.

 

They decided to visit the zone and fly the Greenpeace Flag.

Fernando was keen to record the trip, so packed a camera in his bag.

 

Suddenly agents entered our grounds and killed my best friends dead.

Why did they have to do that? Was it something they said?

 

The Police caught them red handed and locked them up in jail,

But Mr David said “Enjoy Hao Atoll”, and let them out on bail.

 

Fernando's spirit is with us always. Rest in peace our dear friend.

Rainbow lies in Matauri Bay. She's a Warrior to the end.

 

Our school is still off limits, we'll never go up there again.

And all thanks to you Mitterrand because your fecking insane.

 

Brett Howes

 

Dedicated to Fernando Pereira (10 May 1950-10 July 1985)

Gravity, it’s the Law

 

The most amazing thing that happens to me
Is the eternal effect of gravity

When I wake up, I’m still on my bed
Not floating to the ceiling or standing on my head

Every things still there, where I left it last night
Still stuck on the floor, not taken to flight.

I go to the loo and take a pee
It lands in the bowl, not over me

I hate to consider what I’d do
With a gravity free number two

Perhaps if the need became totally dire
I could blow it out the window with a hot hair dryer

Albert surmised it will even bend light
Blow me down if he wasn't right

He even predicted how it behaves
When it comes past us, it will come in waves

A giant black hole is nothing to flout
What goes in, doesn't come out

Yet as you get closer time is unhurried
I’ll age a bit slower, should I be worried

A great ball of hydrogen was looking forlorn
Then gravity took hold and our sun was born

Gravity keeps our planet in place
Warm by the sun, not cold off in space

Gravity sticks the ocean to the crust
Should weigh a lot, I guess it must

It shouldn’t exist, it shouldn’t be there
but I’m glad it does cause I like breathing air

But Gravity’s the Law, not manmade
As Issac said “Must be obeyed”

How does it work, no one really knows
For now it’s a dark matter, very dark I suppose.
 

Help Me

 

Every time we kiss I know you are for me 
Gazing in those sky blue eyes like a pool of molten sea 

I try to show you the depth of my passion 
But it stays way down inside of me 

Do you really know what I feel like in side? 
How do I show you the love I try and hide? 

Why do I disguise my feelings?
When I love you deep down in side 

Let’s make our love bring out a rising sun
Don’t spend our lives with our hopes on the run

If we trust our love we’ll grow strong together  
And our hearts will keep us close for ever

Help me trust to say “I love you” 
Help me hold you close and say I care

Help me show how much I need you 
Don’t leave my broken heart in tears
 

Isabella in Red

 

I was playing to faces of cold and stone, feeling bluesy mellow and slow
The music was in me but off beat tonight, my keyboard like glue in the snow 

The Kariba Bar was gin soaked and tipsy, full of smoky dreams and lies
The piano echoed their painted hopes, with chords that faded and died.

Just when the night was eclipsing, the voices all slurry and dead 
In walked the queen of all ladies, Isabella in a tight skin of red 

She sipped a strawberry tequila, slid her hand upon my thigh
“Play the tune of a thousand lovers and I’ll sing till the morning is nigh”

My heart was on fire, the beat returned and the keyboard smiled too 
Her voice lit the room like a Sahara sun, lost in a mournful blue 

People looked up through hazy glazed eyes, as her melody sliced the night
The smiles spread like a rippled pond, and they started feeling alright.

She’s my heart, she’s my soul, Isabella’s my doll
Her voice is an echo of white
She’s my life, she’s my love, Isabella’s my dove
And she’s taking me home tonight

She sang for the souls of lovers past, she sang for their hearts within
She remembered the eyes and lies of men, and their promises paper thin

She cried for her angel who died too young, but wept memories of joy today
And the love of her life she met in Milan, who swept all her heartbreak away 

I played to the cry of lovers need; I played with all my might,
She took my hand and smiled the smile, come home with me tonight

Come home with me tonight.   
 

Jake

 

The world passes by as I drive the lonely road 
Hanging on that steering wheel my dead heart seeds are sowed

Up ahead lies my future, a cold cabin for the night 
No one to sing to just a pillow for my plight          

    

I thought love was truly gone, just a ghost I never knew 
My mind was a glacier, all cold and icy blue

You see my heart was in pieces, scattered all over the floor 
Trampled underfoot and kicked out the door 

Next day I drove the pavement, through the trees of autumn hue
When the hitch hiker called Gabrielle cascaded into view.
                           
She climbed aboard and then she smiled at me and she called me by my name 
She said, “You must be that lonely Jake who said the world is all to blame. 

You’ve forgotten how to love my friend you say it don’t exist no more 
Your broken hearts in pieces, lying on the floor

It’s so hard to get back up when you’re down and feeling blue 
So let’s poor some love into your soul and see what we can do.

She showed me how to love again and make the human race 
Then she put the sun back in the sky and lit my fire place 
             
You know I picked up all those pieces and put them back inside 
Then I remembered how to love again and beamed a smile wide 

Don’t forget how to love,
Don’t forget your heart is true, 
Don’t let that old glacier turn you heart to blue,
Don’t run away from love, 
Don’t turn away and hide,
Grab that love with all your might and keep it warm inside
 

Kaula

Kaula carefully opened, an embryonic eye
At the top of a long beaky, ever so shy.

Inside a shell, not much of a view,
One big foot, another makes two.

Wrapped in a ball, those huge feet by her eye.
Sticking straight up, uncomfortably high.

“I wonder what I am”, she thought to herself,
“Perhaps a baboon or a big footed Elf”

“I hope I’m a lion, I can roar and be free,
A Serengeti Leo, is the life for me”

She tried chipping out, with her little egg tooth.
Someone had stolen it, how very uncouth.

So she pecked at the shell till her beak was quite sore,
Till it crumbled and cracked then she rolled on the floor.

“I’m out at last” she said, her wibble wobbling plain
I’m a vicious lion, behold my golden mane.

She let out a roar but out popped a shrill
“If I’m a wild lion, I sound kind of ill”

And my mane looks rather feathery, right down to my toes.
A lion with feathers? that’s not how it goes.

Maybe I’m a wetapotamus with spooky spikey legs
Leaping from a cave roof, onto people’s heads.
 
Or I could be a tuatara prowling Gondwanaland,
Sporting a Mohawk, in a kilted rock band. 

But tuatara’s aren’t long beaky and although it sounds absurd.
I think I’m a big footed, odd shaped bird.

If I’m a bird, I’ll fly, I’ll be a great soarer,
Up higher than all the flora and fauna.

She extended her wings, “This should do the trick”
Hang on a minute; I’m not  AERO DY NAM IC.

She flapped and she flapped, yet she still only found
Those un-lion like feet,placed on the ground.

Kaula felt depressed, “I’m not doing very well”
Then her face lit up, “What’s that delicious smell?”

She stomped and snuffled probing in the bush 
Sniffing out juicy bugs, with her elongated mush.

I think I’ll stay right here, Waitaia’s the home for me,         
I’m proud to be called Kaula, the little Brown Kiwi
 

Kaula the Kiwi visits her Iwi

“It's time to go”,  said Kaula the Kiwi

“I'm off to the city to visit my Iwi

 

In fact I'll leave Waitaia, this very night,

Of course I'll walk, having no means of flight.”

 

“I'm Kaula the Kiwi

Off to the City to visit my Iwi.”

 

Whitianga was a bustle with so many things

Including a wood hen with copious rings.

 

“With your ample bling and that short sharp pecker

You must be Wiremu, the borrowing Weka.”

 

“Walk with me Wiremu, I'm Kaula the Kiwi.

I'm off to the city to visit my Iwi.”

 

When passing through Coroglen on the Iwi trail,

Out popped a bird with a fan for a tail.

 

She twittered and twibbered like nothing was planned,

Then said “Hi I'm Fanny, can I join your band?”

 

“Walk with us Fanny, I'm Kaula the Kiwi.

We're off to the City to visit my Iwi.”

 

They were busy admiring a square Kauri tree,

When they tripped over a bird, they failed to see.

 

He had camouflaged feathers, from head to toe

And politely introduced himself as Kakapo Joe.

 

“Walk with us Joe, I'm Kaula the Kiwi.

We're off to to the city to visit my Iwi.”

 

At Kopu they spied a parrot, sporting a cheeky smile.

So they decided to stop and chat for a while.

 

“I guess your feathered wings, mean you can't be a bear?”

“Your right, I'm Nestor notabilis but feel free to call me Kea.”

 

“Walk with us Kea, I'm Kaula the Kiwi.

We're off to the city to visit my Iwi.”

 

Teagan the Te Puru Takahe, whose surname was Brice,

Had the dubious acclaim of being made extinct twice.

 

Teagan offered to join them on their great Iwi quest.

So off they went, all six abreast.

 

“Walk with us Teagan, I'm Kaula the Kiwi.

We're off to the City to visit my Iwi.”

 

Around past Tararu, Thames was in sight.

When Kaula turned to her new friends and exclaimed with delight.

 

“You're all my Iwi, there's no need to roam.”

And with that epiphany, it was time to go home.

 

Kia Kaha

Lava Tree

While sitting here take your time to see

The rules which bind the Lava Tree

The only two things we want from thee, rhyme with Zoo and tickle me.

Things with strings and other debris

 

DON’T GO DOWN OUR LAVA TREE

Life

The story begins in a damp micro tube,
Where Lenny Limpy, was getting a lube.


But this anointment wasn’t pretty, not a chortle, nor a laugh
Poor little Lenny’s DNA, was torn right in half!


This was done quite painlessly, no needles, nor a stitch.
Was it YOUR osis or MY osis? I can’t remember which.


Although Nurse Cell fed him well, he remained very pale
And instead of normal arms and legs, he grew a wiggly tail.


A day old and off to school, no tricky math’s for him.
Little Lenny’s only skill, was learning how to swim.


There were millions more in Lenny class, all honing the same craft
Wiggle woggling their little tails and looking just as daft.


It was a merry time, a bubbly time, joy for one and all.
You could say they were happy herrings, in a seaman’s ball.


But the good times were soon to end, when Lenny’s landlord came to play
And that’s how all and sundry, were sent abruptly on their way.


Lenny wondered what foul deed, made his landlord so upset
Because he didn’t just kick him out, he fired him like a jet.


Whizzing along at 50 k he tried to be calm and brave
But he almost lost his Mojo when he saw the strange new cave.


But then something amazing happened, it came totally from within
He wiggled that woggly tail once more and began to frantically swim.


Swim, swim, swim he did, he swam the perfect race.
With 200 million contestants, there’s no room for second place.


The gold medal was Lenny’s, he wore the victors grin.
Then knocked carefully on the door and Zona let him in.


You see
That’s how Thee, came to be

Mirror

When I look in the mirror, what do I see?
“Well, obviously, I see me”.

I see a face, creased with a smile
Gravity cheeks and a wild hairstyle.

But no matter how I try and look at thee
Two green eyes stare back at me.

Really what I’m seeing, is merely skin
Just a layer, paper thin.

So that’s it folks, to you out there
Fashion looks and frizzy hair.

Be one of the few who venture nearer
And ask yourself, what’s behind the mirror.

What’s really you, truth or pretense?
Open book or garden fence?

Do you dwell in self, your image desire?
Lust for vanity, a narcissistic mire.

Are you really honest or a veiled lie?
True to yourself or passerby?

Do you believe in trust and what is right?
Or are you just ether, drifting in the night?

Will you give to others, for giving sake?
Or do you take, take, take, take?

Are you a ghost of blind convention?
Or is there something behind the reflection?

If you want to make your image clearer,
Take a look behind the mirror.
 

Mr Mole

Mr and Mrs Molly Mole, dug a fancy mole hole, under the town of Vinn.

They grabbed their stuff, very moley stuff, and proceeded to move right in.

 

Now Mr Mole likes wiggly worms; big fat juicy worms are the best.

He eats one, two and better than three, all without a rest.

 

Molly Mole noticed a roll toll, a mole roll toll, around his tum.

“A little bit here and lots of bits there, is making your mole tum rotund”.

 

Better watch out, Mr Mole, you'll get stuck in the hole

 

Biggley huge elephantly worms, even the bitsy bitty and small.

Squishly mashed by his moley molars, with gusto he ate them all.

 

Hot worms cold worms warm worms, he didn't really care.

He sucked an slurped them so fast, they tangled in his hair.

 

“Your getting extra mole rolls, by leaving not a crumb.

Those increased fatty taxes are spreading to your bum”.

 

Better watch out, Mr Mole, you'll get stuck in the hole

 

He couldn't stop worm gorging,” Must gulp guzzle and swill”.

He crammed and stuffed those gourmet worms, despite feeling quite ill.

 

“Did you eat all our liver worms?” “No it wasn't me”.

“Mr Mole you’re in denial, its plain for all to see”.

 

He gobbled worms, he glutted worms, caring not one bit.

“Mr Mole, you'll get stuck in the hole, if you don't immediately quit”.

 

But it was Too Late, Mr Mole got stuck in the hole.

 

 

Brett Howes

Please reload

Notno Now

 

Noto and Didno where twins did you know
Sons of the Nows, Couldno and Shouldno

Now, Notno did know, a secret you know

But what Notno did not know but should know,

Was Couldno did know what Notono did know, 

and did know, Didno, did not know what Notno did know. 

But Notno did not know,  Didno did not know, 

Since Noto thought Didno, did know.

Now, Couldno should know, Shouldno Now 

Did not know what Notno did know but thought Shouldno did know.

So when Couldno asked Shouldno about what Notno did know

Shouldno did not know.

“Shouldno, you should know what Notno did know and Didno Now did not know.
 
How could you not know?” 

Unfortunately, Shouldno should know what Notno did know

And that was……..

But Shouldno forgot.
 

O

 

O is a wonderful letter; it goes way round the rim,
Look, balloon and baboon, have two of them in.

Without O’s there’d be no words like Voodoo
You wouldn’t want to hoodoo Voodoo, would you?

Because of O you can pop a balloon,
Or go to the Zoo to see a baboon.

An onerous rhinoceros with a pointy nose
Olly the orca, striking a pose

You can hear a cow moo or a Hoopoo coo
Or maybe an owl toot and hoot to you

But whatever you do
But don’t step on the Hoopoo poo

Hoopla will come to you
If you step on a Hoopoo poo.

Maybe for you a cockatoo, 
Or perhaps you’ll view a Koodoo or two

All just for you, 
to view at the Zoo.

And look at zoo, it ends with two 
And look at look, it has some few too.

Too has two, O’s abound.
O’s make the world go round and round
 

Open Eyes

Viewing Earth from Saturn's rings, I think you'd have to agree,

Its very plain or perhaps, not so plain, there's nothing much to see.

 

We're excruciatingly tiny, probably insignificant if you must.

Compared to the vast universe, we're merely cosmic dust

 

So a little thought about relevance; basically, where we are all at.

Its time to have a look at ourselves and chew the perspective fat.

 

We're buried in petty politics, constantly trying to out do each other.

Cold wars, isotopic wars, soldiers screaming for their mother.

 

All our vagaries seem so important, unaware of what's around.

Not truly grasping where we are in space, then polluting without a sound.

 

We're all part of this planets complexities, immersed in its biomass,

And between us and annihilation, lies fragile layer of gas.

 

The innate profligacy of humans, ignores the greater need.

The kilter of the planet, squandered buy selfish greed.

 

Humans are like an AID's virus, throwing the ecology out of whack.

If we tip the earth's immunity too far, there'll be no going back.

 

An example of this is climate change, despite the sceptics call.

It's happening unsustainably fast and will affect us all.

 

Reality check for all of us, our planet simply doesn't really care.

Its happy wandering around the sun, completely devoid of air.

 

Try walking on the beach and feel the oceans all as one.

Imagine all the chlorophyll rich phytoplankton, connecting us to the sun.

 

We're irreversibly immersed in nature entwined by its convoluted chatter.

If we don't embrace its passage all our armies wont matter.

 

We must pull our selfish heads, from the quagmire of personal wealth

And start working as one, to ensure the planets health.

 

 

Brett Howes

Peter Palin Peebles

Peter Palin Pebbles was a sight to behold,
In the land of the P’s he was feeling pretty bold.
It was his first day of ponder at the Pink Primary School
With his purple P Pen he arrived looking cool.

His Plimsolls were polished and preened in the sun
And his hat pobbled sideways like a Pisa Currant Bun.
His face was protund and partly square from side on 
But his nose pointed inwards so you thought it was gone. 

Yet he stood rather tall for a lad from P Land 
And had plenty of P pictures painted on his hand.
When he appeared in the classroom the prim teacher was there
Looking pretty peculiar with her peach coloured hair.

It grew from her head and spread between her toes 
But the peachiest part of all, protruded from her nose.

“Welcome to Pink Primary you’re looking very cool”
 Pick up your penguin and pull up a stool.
Each pupil has a pet penguin, at Pink Primary today,
Tomorrow it’s Pluffy Poodles or perhaps Python Prey

Peter perched on his stool with his penguin and pen 
Next to two perky lads called Phillip and Plen.
We’re “good peers” code named PP one and two,
We’ll show you round Pink Primary, since you are new.

They showed him Plothy Possums  playing pool in the pound, 
and peered at Palooka Parrots which never make a sound.
They pried for Pimpley Pilley-worms lurking in the ground.
Listen very close, they make a plippy plopply sound.

But they didn’t have P Pens and Peter had a rule, 
Without P Pens you just weren’t cool. 
 “You can have purple P Pens or perhaps pink too,
But without a P appendage, I won’t be pandering you!”

Why do P pens, either purple or pink
Change Peter Peebles and how he would think?
So pondered PP one and a perplexed PP two
Perhaps our prim teacher will know what to do.

Penelope Pertrude Papple, yes the teacher had a name, 
Parted her peachy hair, as her penguin did the same.
She pulled a Palooka Parrot parked precariously in her ear 
And perused the two PP’s, standing proper like a pair.

So you’re pondering a problem “How do P pens make you cool?”
The answer is simple; PETER PALIN PEEPLES is a fool.

Perfect

I first heard of Whina when she talked the talk
And down from Te Hapua, she walked the walk.


She filled Hollands drains as fast as he duggem
And visited Bill Rowling just to bug him.


A successful farmer, this ladies no fool.
She donated land to start a school.


“Have you lived all your life under a Northland sunset?”
She replied to me wryly “Brett, not yet”.


She told me about getting old, “Don’t fear that day
Because my young friend it will happen anyway”


“Be of good heart, be kind and be true.
Be honest to all, it will get you through”


Yet she was only little, skinny as a broom
But her mana smile would fill a room.


Lead from the front, was always her way.
Her living the moment carried the day.


When she left for Hawaiki, to her spirits embrace
She left this world a better place.


From a mud floor up North, to Mother of the Nation
Dame Whina Cooper, you’re my inspiration.


Arohanui
 

Quezzel

For Mother Teresa

Quezzel lives in the Blephron Sector way beyond the stars, 
Not just the quick hop to Earth, if she lived on planet Mars.

Quezzel is not her real name, just something made up.
If she’d chosen a pseudonym, it could be Glorit Glup.

We can’t see the Blephron sector; it’s under Quezzel’s lid,
But keep both eyes open wide, you’ll be really chuffed you did.

When Agnes arrived on Planet Earth, that’s actually her real name,
She thought the world would be like home, but she found it’s not the same.

But first she had to disguise herself by moving her face above her tum.
Then retracted all her scaly limbs and re arranged her bum.

Now looking semi Humoggolly she explored from place to place,
Calling herself Teresa, she studied the human race.

She sent a report to Questeral, Blephrons almighty head.
It seemed very confused, but this is how it read.

Some Humoggs have a thing called fashion, makes them feel good,
It does absolutely nothing, I don't see how it could.

Some Humoggs are starving, dying in the rain.
While others have abundant food and still they complain.

Some Humoggs believe in Gods, peaceful in their might,
Then they kill other Moggs to prove they are right

Some Humoggs take ferrous tubes which blow out bits of lead
And walk into learning places and make the Minimoggs dead.

Some Humoggs live in boxes, whose pigments are never right.
Others have no boxes and perish in the night.

Some Humoggs have many boxes; I’ve heard it called “The greed”.
They ignore the many others who appear in dire need.

Some Humoggs fight amongst themselves, others on foreign shores.
They use their ferrous pipes for this and call the killing wars.

All Humoggs inhale Otwo, which comes from land and sea
Yet they're slowly wrecking both, seems illogical to me.

But some Humoggs fight to ban those pipes and help all those in need
They care for the planets health and don't embrace “The greed”


They shine a light of hope, hope after all, 
If only the rest would listen, listen to their call


 

Radio Speak

Mayday, Mayday, Mayday, Len Tover calling Hanover Radio, OVER.

Ben Dover receiving you, what is your emergency? OVER

Len Tover in a Land Rover, Ben Dover. OVER

Did you say Rolly Over in Len Drover? OVER.

That’s a negative, I’m Len Tover, Ben Dover, in a Land Rover. OVER

Ben Dover, having trouble penetrating you. Switching to channel layover. Should smooth over. OVER.

Roger, Ben Dover, turnover to channel switchover for smooth over. OVER

Ben Dover  receiving you smoother. Repeat your message. OVER.

Ben Dover, Len Tover in a Land Rover, rolling over and over and over. OVER.

Loud and clear. You’re Len Tover in a Land Rover. No need to repeat OVER , over and over and over. OVER.

Ben Dover, I’m rolling over in a Land Rover. OVER

I thought your name was Len Tover, Rolly Over, OVER

Over and out
 

Rats in your Hat

Open up those precious eyes, another day is here.

Time to decide, how your day will fare.

Don't go to school, with vile rats on your head,

Try a different look, a better one instead.

You don’t need  skellum rats, RATS in your HAT.

 

Try an army of caterpillars, skipping all their legs,

Or Skinny Willy Warthog, showing off his dreads.

Fashion a hairy fur ball, coughing up a cat,

But what you don't need are rats, RATS in your HAT.

You don't want, RATS in your HAT

 

Enjoy spicky porcupines, spiking up your hair.

Or curly blondie wigga-ma-things, looking very fair.

Even frizzy Meerkats bugling Bach in B flat

But stay away from rats, RATS in your HAT.

You don't want.

No you really don't want, RATS in your HAT.

  

Perhaps clusted spiders, sproinging on your dome.

Shuffling, scuttling Knit Catchers, feeling quite at home.

Wobbly Bob, the jelly thingy, splonked there like a mat.

Anything’s better than rats, RATS in your HAT.

You don't want.

No you really don't want,

No you really, really don't want, RATS in your HAT.

 

You may like sneaky snakes, wound around your noggin

Or a special secret sploshy place to keep your pet froggin

Even Percy Pelican, dropping in for a chat,

Must be better than rats, RATS in your HAT.

You don't want.

No you really don't want,

No you really, really, really don't want, RATS in your Hat.

 

They’ll do a scritchy scalp dance, spikey claws knotting  hair

To raspy hissy rattish music, very loud and clear.

They'll sing vile rodent songs through stained ratty fangs

And they'll leave behind a smelly mess, squishly in your bangs.

They'll make you do ratty things, causing hurt and endless strife.

Their teeth gnawing through your soul and screwing up your life.

 

 

 

 

Now you’re tucked up tight, snuggly wuggly in your bed.

Don't let the rattys win; keep them off your head.

Wear a hat which suits you best, a Bowler, Top or Gat,

But whatever you choose to do in life, no RATS in your HAT

You don't want,

No you really don't want,

Stay well away from, RATS in your HAT.

Requiem

 

I try to see the world through a love that never dies 
When she left me for the heaven, my heart always cries.


Still my world has no bound for the love I feel inside
My mind will always see her as the Angel by my side. 

Taken so quickly, no chance to say goodbye
Please god hold her gently, and let my angel fly


At night my thoughts are with her, in my mind I feel so blessed
I know she’s happy now, in her soul’s eternal rest. 

Sleep my lovely Angel, your heart is always true 
Please think of me in heaven, and know I still love you. 

Your smile lights my life and the tears run so sweet 
Your life star ever burning, my Angel is complete 


Weep no more; cry no more, smile, my darling, through heavens door 
Spread your wings to greater things, I hear the song my Angel sings. 

I’ll see you in the future when my time is due 
Wait for me my darling I’ll soon be there with you 
 

Shabby Sheila

Shabby Sheila, yes you know who you are.

Arrogance your ethos, a veneer social star.

 

All gussied up because fad makes you in.

Being honest to yourself, a veritable sin.

 

Your vaporous friends, add fuel to your farce.

So refined, so precious, so uppity class.

 

The clique all wink, a white powdered line,

Secretive group giggles, we're ever so fine.

 

Carat AU, your only measure of success

Shabby J Sheila, your an out and out mess.

 

A face of contempt when looking through me.

My caste so plebeian, much lessor than thee.

 

Oh risible Shabs, you think your so cool.

Reality check, your a coke dusted fool.

 

The apotheosis of crass and lamentable pose.

Living your life through the flow up your nose.

 

Beauty is internal, not dangled on a chain

Step away from the mirage or go insane.

Songbird

 

A songbird sang in 63
And so an Angel came to be

So shy and sensitive you’d never see
How your beauty set us free

All you desired was to love and sing
And not contrive some commercial thing

Driven by passion, pure as stubborn snow
The essence of music, only you could know

That childlike wonder was always there
A summer breeze of healing air

For you, there’ll be no more crying
For you the sun will always be shining


And I feel because of you
The songbird will never be blue

With a wonderful world she said goodbye
Why my Angel, did you have to die?

Somewhere over that rainbow, I know you rest
Thank you Eva, you are the best.
 

Teenagers

 

Teenagers today, will find out with dismay,
The rad things they do, are not a new day

No matter how badly Yolo and mixed up they are
This historical blunder was the biggest so far

Tutank in Egypt, before Christ walked the land
Was helping his Fam build a cube in the sand.

Mamoose was dying and this cube was his bed,
Tutank in charge of rocks, turnt up a party instead

He was so mad chill, on sprang break after all
With Dude Mamoose swag money he ordered them all

Cept Tutank had eyes for Kiya,  a Thot of the day
But she was salty on him, said go AF away

Tutank got chirped, yaassss thats a thing so bad
No snappy clap back, bummed out so sad.

His maths not hundyp, was confused by the Thot
Not even sixtyp, no it was not

Fiftyp was all dat sus order of rocks
A noob to arithmetic , head full of pox

The building began, began kk
But the cube lookin  shape, went quite astray

As luck would have it, when Mamoose dropped dead
No flat top to the heavens, a pointy bit instead

When it comes to teenagers, take this advice of the Kings
Whatever you do, DONT SWEAT THE LITTLE THINGS
 

Thought you were mine

She says she needs me yet she's looking elsewhere

Raising those high, high heels, flicking her long blond hair.

Looking right through me, lumen eyes so blue.

Teasing me, toying me, then she's saying who?

 

You loved me forever, your loves for all time.

You left for another.

Thought you were mine.

 

Cradling your broken soul, a frantic Angel in the night.

Comes to me, needing me, holding on so tight.

Next day your haunted soul alights, revering eyes all gone.

A hollow shell, devoid of joy, where once your love light shone.

 

Whose going to pick you up and hold you oh so tight.

Whose going to calm you when you scream in the night.

A ghost for reality, fueled by chemicals and lust.

Whose going to let you in, let you in to trust.

 

Brett Howes

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