Gasping for Oxygen

It's such a shame she didn't say yes 
Melancholy waves of sadness rolled over me
The pretty girl with blue eyes went on staring blankly into the computer screen 
I asked her out to no avail although we chatted 

She said she didn't like boat parties 
they just weren't her thing 
oh well another polite rejection 

when I looked up deep into her eyes 
I saw she was almost tempted to say yes 
to take a chance on a menace of a man
i would've been so happy if she did 
you know say yes 

But in the end she didn't 
i quickly excused myself 
so i could hyperventilate in private 
in the library bathroom before regaining my composure 
and the remnants of my self-esteem

Thankfully I didn't feel to bad, happy even!

Try as I may and i did try i couldn't for the life of me
wrestle the beloved from the lofty windswept heights of adoration 
I thought how lonely it must be for her 
Up so high looking down on us mere mortals 
with our creaking limbs and flawed personalities 

I decided to go for a walk to shake 
off my feelings of mild despair and existential angst 
Not long into my pointless wandering 
I felt deeply depressed 
It wasn't the girls fault she was ever so tender at saying
No... to me     It was just my natural dissposition 
In a way I was glad I wouldn't have to inflict myself on her
Like a mad juggler grasping at straws to entertain her on a mad tug boat 
what a bloody disaster of a thought

Perhaps why it stung so badly but only for mere seconds was 
because it felt like my very spirit not to mention my decrepit body
had been weighed, judged and simply dismissed as superflourous 
With the ease of a seasoned bureaucrat she continued typing 
after our exchange

While I gasped for oxygen in a room with no sound
Then quickly resolved to buy some new sandals 
To take my mind off my triumphant failure 
As my feet sometimes do get sweaty laughs
Anyway at least I wasn't a coward or lacking a man's backbone 
And she was so close to saying yes I could feel it 
on the tip of her serpents tongue 
I would've died of happiness 
had she uttered those sweet perfumed words 

As i left her in peace to continue the secure monotony of her work 
marketing or something rather boring 
She flicked her hair out with both hands
I laughed to myself perhaps I disgusted her 
Oh how the lover usually has that sort of feeling on the beloved 

How a Gazelle Escaped the Jaws of an Inept Lion

God I screwed up and it’s the worst feeling. But sometimes you have to embrace your failures and not beat yourself up. I’ll tell you exactly what happened if you’re bored and want to escape the drudgery of your life. I’d headed into town to study at the local University. For some reason I changed places mixing it up from where I usually holed up to study. I guess I just wasn’t feeling the overcrowded humdrum of Auckland’s general library. That’s when I peered through a dirty window pane and what did I see but the most beautiful blonde headed woman you have ever seen. Her hair was the striking type of blonde you couldn’t buy off a poorly stocked supermarket shelf, she must’ve had roots in a Scandinavian country. As if guided like a puppet on a string devoid of free will I flew around the corner and took up a new residence in the new study room I had neglected all year. I set up a makeshift camp a few desks down from her trying to stealthy meld into the grey desk in front of me. 

There was not a distinguishing sound to be heard in the silent study room. Well except for my young heart drumming away at 180 bpm outside my body. It was as if my whole body groaned in worship at the feet of this flawless feminine figure. I was overcome and lost in crashing waves of love, desperately trying to swim toward solid land. However, as soon as my feet touched the soft sand of normality my vision became impaired as all I could see was perfectly tanned skin. In my watery delirium I had failed to realize the Scandinavian nymph had taken off her grey greenish blue hand knitted jersey exposing her toned rail thin dreamlike arms with a sprinkling of light freckles to my surprise. Having been cursed with a million freckles myself the speckled quality of her skin was almost too much. If anything I imagined she could understand me more. Her top was a light peach colour and her bra from what I saw was encrusted with lace while on her feet were pink laced purple sneakers worn from copious amounts of exercise. I almost don’t want to mention it but her glutus maximus was tightly clutched in black unbranded yoga pants. The way she also sat on her chair heavily accentuated the womanly curve of her hips and fullness of her ample rump. Blaring blue tie-die eyes shone forth from her head complimented by kind and caring features of nose and mouth that spoke of a rare and caring nature. All up the mere sight of such a woman could turn any man’s blood to boil without end perhaps even overcoming death itself. Even if the lowest fool locked eyes on this rare emerald diligently studying they would have diverted their eyes in fear. The great Michelangelo himself would have most certainly failed to carve her likeness into the finest of marble rock, the gods themselves being angered at such an act of hubris.

After recovering all of my senses like Perseus stoned before the treachery of Medusa I gathered all my wits and cunning education at my disposal and with Athena goddess of wisdom helping hand I drafted a fatal note to take this great beast down. Note in hand as she was leaving the room I earnestly prepared to attack and give this she-devil my note laced with poison and charms. However, instead of working the note recoiled in my hand sticking to my palm and burning my sensitive skin. In an instant my prey raced past me untouched and unhindered. Despair washed over me as I valiantly tried to fight the feeling that I was way out of my league. My comfort zone was lost in the land of the living while I teetered on the edge of distant realms where mortal and gods mingle and meet. To recover my spirits and return to the land of the living a retired and rekindled my body with a brief and light meal of cheese and bread, in which 'all enjoyed an equal share' although I ate alone. 

My self-respect, ego, masculinity all were bruised and damaged. I then rationalized to myself that the Gods may have sent me a blessing for surely the note was destined for disaster and not inevitable victory. How could a mortal a man ensnare the intoxicating image of Aphrodite herself with a hastily written note in a foreign mortal language? I then recalled a past calamity that had beset myself under similar circumstances. Years ago I had the arrogant audacity to hand deliver a cat card of all items to a woman. At the time it sounded and felt like a brilliant idea with a bulletproof chance of success. Oh how wrong I had been! As the girl who I had offered my entreaties of passion would turn and stare and mock me with her eyes and whisper hurtful comments to friends under her breath about me. If one could hate a woman this other woman I despised because I still desired her. Despite the fact that the cat-card woman had the most painful voice that made the high-pitched sound of nails scratching down a chalkboard sound appealing. I thought it rather funny how I would see her who had had jilted me with such marked satisfaction every now and then between large intervals at university. Evidenced by her face many years later she still found my failure a memorable episode worth remembering causing her to fall into uncontrollable fits of laughter as i walked past her. 

Thankfully many moons ago I had made the decision that it was better to remembered while incurring the burden of failure than being quickly forgotten without memory. However, this whole bad re-run had me smarter and less inclined to wander into the dangerous line of fire ill prepared. Still compared to the cat-card woman I came out by far the victor in the long run as puzzling it would’ve seemed to me at the time. This was due to the fact her boyfriend looked like under educated Gorilla who was obviously dim-witted and remarkably stupid. Even if it was to my own annoyance that the girl wedded to this monster still induced feelings of admiration and love in me at the mere sight of her complexion. I wonder if she ever realized how much more I could have loved her, how our souls may have danced together in a flaming celebration of existence, endless cat-cards raining down from the sky.

After recuperating after my meal I returned to my seat in the ornate study room. To my surprise the blonde girl was still to my side not far from me. To my unabashed surprise she even cast her eyes upon me looking at me with unnerving desire. I mentally slapped myself for not washing my hair that day. How I prayed to the God that the petite blonde was not just quizzically looking at my unkempt hair. To my dismay I hesitated in giving the blonde my note but knew it was a rather crap idea to win a woman of such quality with so little effort, it was utter madness, plus I preferred a long and drawn out hunt, and it was never a good idea to ruin your chances as soon as the quarry had been spotted in a murky concrete jungle. This didn’t stop me racing after her as she left the room. Thankfully I thought it best to let this jumping gazelle enjoy another day of life. This inept hunter of a lion was quite happy to try again, or even meet the same prey under more favourable conditions which just so happened to occur as fate would have it. Indeed the sparkling dragon would be slayed eventually.

But when is it that my heart races most madly?

You send my heart racing 
even though I don't quite 
know your name 

You send my heart racing 
despite the fact I asked you out 
and you said no

You send my heart racing 
because you speak to me in
a rustic second language 

You send my heart racing 
because your so prim and proper 
while i'm a dishevelled mess 

You send my heart racing 
like a beam of light bouncing 
off the face of a pretty girl 

But when is it that my heart races most madly?

Whenever
I dive deep down into
your mesmerising crystal
blue eyes
Overcome with the sublime
intoxicated
feeling of love
that only 
bi-polar allows 

Sleeping Man

what good is man asleep 

he struggles to create in dreams 

what he will never have

He falls through shadows 

Only to awake in shrieking nightmares 

Rekindles old love and foolish illusions

Lives as different people, a stranger to himself  

His desire unchained while traversing stars 

A snoring man struggles to renew ailing health 

One hand out-stretched to catch coins of gold

The other gripping happiness at the end 

of a piled high silver desert spoon 

Blocked by a Beautiful Stranger on Instagram

 

I felt a pang of sadness well up inside me when i realised she had blocked me on Instagram. I searched my conscience to filter back through time to see if i had been rude or mean. It came up blank. She had such fine features, Da Vinci himself would've struggled to render her onto white canvas. Her personality was so free spirited and zany. I felt rather devastated. On the scale of past hurts the pain was slight, a mere flesh wound. 

Yet at the same time it felt as if both my arms had been sliced from my body like the black knight from Monty Python.

Deep down I knew she would never know how such a small unthinking act of hers had flattened me. It took extra effort to get out of bed the next morning after being confronted by the bad news that I had been discarded. For all intents and purposes I had been declared surplus to requirements. The woman, someone, I had grown to adore in the most innocent of ways had left.Slowly I realised we were strangers even though we shared the same city and love of burgers. It was obvious now we lived in two vastly different circumstances, our circles would never intersect, unless dumb luck intervened. 

Over the coming days my love for her slowly evaporated 

into the dry cracks of my heart. Then one evening rain clouds gathered outside my window and let down a torrent of rain. I woke up and heard the cry of the wind as I hugged my worn pillow under my blanket. The lack of stars in the next sky only intensified my sadness and irrational sense of loss, and yet I was still glad I had loved her, in my own gentle unsuspecting kind of way. The only way I knew how!

Stupid Decisions

In defence of Aaron Smith and Why we Shouldn't be so quick to Judge Others

When someone makes a mistake don't jump on them
understand why they did it and what thinking process lead to the action. Then see if there is a way to help them not make the same mistake again and again. Always try and show compassion to those who screw up within limits because you will one day find yourself with the roles reversed.You have be warned! Trial by public opinion is a brutal reality enabled by mass media and it's crooked lens. Nothing sells more newspapers than a glamourized individual caught in a scandal regardless of circumstance. When you are looking at something or someone else's personal failure you would be surprised to know how much relevant information you are missing on which you form your prejudiced conclusion on. Be slow to cast a stone at another but when you do give it a good throw haha

How can we Remedy the All Blacks Mis-Behaviour and Misogyny?

I certainly agree with previously mentioned points but can't help but feel that the excessive drinking culture of Rugby before after and during games coupled with the completely misogynistic nature of international Rugby aka yet to see a woman All Black or coach create this problem as well. When men are in a group they sure act differently than with a partner or female family members. Coupled with heavy levels of drinking and you get the Chiefs scandal one of many I imagine yet the single most publicised. It's also unrealistic to believe that such happenings of the current All Blacks failings didn't happen under the captainship of Richie McCaw for all we know he could be a horrendous person when not in the public eye.

I believe the quickest way to remedy the NZRU problem is to kick out all the old boys and clinger-ons and appoint people to the national rugby organisation who are first and foremost heavily invested in looking after the rugby players. At the same time I think its even more inclusive that woman be allowed to enter all roles that men currently have access to in the New Zealand rugby in management and on the field. Otherwise I feel these problems will just cropping up again and again.

A fun fact in NZ colonial times there was a shortage of woman men outnumbering woman sometimes a hundred to one in gold-mining towns and in the first settled parts of the country. To remedy the issue men would create a mock woman made out of pillows with a woollen throw over her and place them at the table. The men would instantly act more polite and social responsible - if worse comes to worse we could enforce the All Blacks to engage in such historical practices to uphold moral and ethical standards if they can't do it themselves. mic drop