The Hand of God

My heart will shatter like stained glass flung from the heights of heavens window

My first introduction to the work of Byron - 'She Walks in Beauty'

According to wikipedia Byron the poet/writer was the first rock star celeb.
Apparently the public of his time suffered from Byronmania haha.
His name at birth was George Gordon Byron. He arrived on the
22 January 1788 in London, England. All I know is this man could write. 
Check out one of his most famous poems below that he wrote about his 
cousins widow dressed in black while attending a fancy ball.
Apparently Nietzsche was also a fan of Byron and his idea of the superman
stems from Byron and his byronic hero that figures heavily in his written works.

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 

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 

A Crush at the Beach

A Crush at the Beach By Moss

Everyone has their own fleeting
lighthearted crush at the beach
from rock hard abs to pretty feet
Except for romantics they always have two 

On occasion when I visit the beach
In the blistering height of summer
I like to swim on-top of the surf
Far out at sea bobbing in the cool water 

I see supple woman enticing tortured married men
on the shore with hourglass figures and jumbling auburn hair
I laugh as Husbands eyeballs come loose falling out of their heads 

like stunned mullets they grope around in the sand with deep-seated lust 

After coming in from the sea after getting cold
I shake off the remaining blue water clinging to my pale white chest

To my right I see a Scandinavian girl with a full figure
She reels me in like a stuck fish in a net
I throw a glance her way causing her to laugh with mirth
Then I clumsily scatter seashells in embarrassment
with my awkward clumsy limbs 

As I lose track in the mind-addling sun
The One I have been waiting on finally appears
like a vision of love she washes up gently
on the sweet pebbly beach up north 

In shocked as she begins to sunbath topless
Why not she's the queen of the seas
free the nipple
the unmatched glory of a watery kingdom
baking in the sun
While the ocean teems with uncensored aquatic life 

Her short brunette hair draws you
Until your almost drowning in her deep green eyes
The depth of which is over a thousand fathoms deep

Tan-lines

Why do woman try their hardest to eliminate their tan-lines

I mean have they ever asked a hot blooded man whether they like them or not?

If a woman was to ask my opinion I would say with a resounding YES

I love them like them adore them desire them

And a resounding NO

To even thinking about getting rid of them.

But why is this?

Maybe it’s because

Men in our vast majority don't have them

So those thin insignificant lines make you infinitely more feminine

Vastly accentuating your allure and primordial power over us

Not to say that

A woman without tan-lines is any less attractive

I for one would never dream of asking someone to lie down in the sun to get them

I'd worry too much about your over exposure to the sun 

And yet there is part of every man's hearts that wishes

In the recesses of his being for a woman to have bold bright tan lines

Illuminating and skimming across your skin and cutting like fine diamonds

But why?

Maybe it’s just because they are overwhelmingly sensual

Or equally as likely it’s probably just because they remind your lover of your lace bra

even

      when

             it's

                 been

                        taken

                                off

Drunken Nostalgia

I saw the woman again after many years. After a while she saw me. 

I was only a hairs breathe from her. It was only a couple days out until xmas. 

She was standing neatly amongst the exotic teas surrounded by floral aromas in the St Luke’s tea shop. I remembered her perfectly as a girl from school who 

dyed her hair. Sometimes she would wear to much make-up at all when she

really didn’t have too. Her skin was fair even though she was part maori 

and enjoyed preforming Kapa-Haka. The last time i saw her face must have

seven years or more ago.

In the interim she had become rather plump, but in the most splendid way.

Her bottom always large in my hazy memory was now enormous easily double

if not triple the size of what i recalled. By the grace of God i swear upon your 

beating heart haha I nearly had a heart attack when i saw her turn round.

After a moments with memories performing backstroke in my head I slowly realised 

she was wearing a boring grey jersey around her body. She was trying to conceal 

maybe even restrain her fine  architecturally designed curves. 

I almost chuckled, as if a woman alone could hold back the raging tsunami 

that was her surging femininity. In many ways the woman reminded me of

a deep crush of mine being Nigella Lawson, except the girl now a woman 

was much younger and without a famous name. My thoughts then returned 

to her body to which I  do feel guilty for sexualising without consent or approval. 

Her breasts were round and vast like bumbling twin moons happy and gay in 

each others company. Her nose forever her finest feature remained angular 

and as lopsided as ever, giving her flare and character, one could never hope to

 achieve such asymmetrical beauty with the help of expensive plastic surgery. 

My eyes also noticed how her healthy jawline remained intact as well as her

protruding cheekbones that would easily slice the toughest french baguettes like butter.

When she cast her gaze upon me I sensed she was ill at easy. Insecure in her body, 

she seemed as if she had been through a taxing war of emotional disappointment since last I saw her. I thought wisely about pouncing on herald making trivial chit chat to try re-establish our paper thin high school connection, but was unsure. She seemed slightly 

frightened almost tearful and the last thing i wanted was to bring her dis-comfort.

 If i had talked to her, which In hindsight I should’ve had I not been a coward,  

i would’ve told her in all  sincerity how serenely beautiful she looked the night 

before Christmas eve. Perhaps in my drunken state of mind I may have even rabbited

on about how she looked far more stunning than i remembered her all those years ago

as a skittish snot-nosed girl in the eternal bloom of her youth.

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

One Foot in the Underworld

The girl was on drugs. 

She wore all black to disguise the fact

that she was a colourful mess. 

To anyone who had loved her they could 

quickly see the life-force draining from her body. 

Her jaw squeaked and rocked in her face 

struggling to find the middle centre point. 

Her once beautiful pearl white teeth had begun 

to erode at a rapid rate. The cocktail of ingested 

chemicals were turning her teeth a corrosive brown colour,

they looked as if they had been stained overnight by Coca-cola.

More worrying was the state of her petit body 

and the mental diss-array of her mind.

Death was stalking her in Asphodel’s meadow.

To the untrained eye she would simply resemble 

a worthless and detestable drug addict. 

But this wasn’t always so, at one time she had been 

a cherished family friend loved by all, especially 

the hopeful adult children of a certain middle-class family.

She had even been a maid of honour at the first born

daughters wedding. The same woman accelerating towards decline 

had once been the picture of health before being ripped 

down the centre by vice and schizophrenia.

Late one night she crawled into the backyard 

and lay comatose in our purple whicker chair.

She came to our home, the only one she knew

naively offering an assortment of drugs for consumption.

She wanted to trigger off a ballroom tango of 

dopamine and sertonin in the brain of any person 

stupid enough to accept her offer. We all collectively 

refrained from partaking and also judging the wayward soul.

On the contrary the desire to plummet towards death death 

was not upon us with any urgency. Or the need to short circuit the human brain

causing irreparable damage and kaleidoscope mania.

She was in the iron grip of the vortex, struggling to 

differentiate dreams and hallucinations from unwanted reality.

The thought fled through my mind hiding behind a walnut tree

to cast the defenceless incapacitated girl into the night.

I mentally weeped for a moment then thought better of it.

This grown woman had transformed artificially into a child

and had slipped with a thud back into the agony of drugs.

Some bastard Hopper must have supplied her after 

cleaning her small rented room from top to bottom.

Despite her habitually lying haze 

I knew that she needed to be cared for. 

I made her thrice cups of tea and waited

out her long drawn out siege upon the living. 

A peppermint tea was enough to drive her out an hour before midnight.

After chain smoking ten cigarettes in a row  

she decided to wander the streets again looking desperately 

for something she would never find. 

Five hours later she posted before her ramshackle departure 

in eloquent prose:

to my sweetest of devotions. i love you forever....

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

Why an Auckland Bus is no place to Read!

 I tried reading Soseko Natsume's masterpiece "The Hearing" on Auckland public transport today but I was Interrupted by the even more unbelievable social lives of two young woman sitting directly behind me, heavy set talking about all manners of things. From strangers coming up to them asking if their nipples were pierced, conversing about a rabid friend of theirs who needed 8 policeman to restrain him when he got take in, too how they were overdue for a shitfest with one of their male friends soon i hate to think what that meant?

What was even funnier was about how one of the girls who wasn't drinking for mental health reasons was appointed sake drink pourer at an event by one of their guy friends who was apparently a reformed jackass, the girl on the right was trying to convince the other that he had improved heaps than when they first meet him, she said "he only makes fun of people he doesn't know now!"

Well that's the joys of Auckland public transport isn't it folks whether you like it or not you get invited to partake in other people’s social lives and understand how people click or wind the wrong way. And I want to say in no uncertain terms if you are so rude as to talk as loud as a fog horn, I’m just gonna take my liberty and share what you say, so the message really gets out as you clearly want everyone within your vicinity to know what banal things are occuring in your ruddy lives. I don't care if you have 3 hop cards and one smells of perfume and the one you lost had $20 dollars on it, so please speak quietly :)

Well what took the cake for me today was the novel line in the conversation about how the two woman were trying to describe how certain pieces of clothing were gender neutral such as corsets and stockings and how the mainstream just hasn't caught on yet, it could be a while yet in dear old NZ! They even went onto discuss how their Russian friend a woman who had a male Kiwi partner liked to dress him up in you guessed it dresses and plaster him with make up all over his face. The twits kept saying how the woman was a lot more masculine than the man, you don't say, surprisingly they never mentioned whether the whole dress thing was you know, consensual?  

dis-claimer: there is no bad intent in this it is simply a public announcement 

                  if so desired this piece of writing can be removed at the behest 

                  of the woman starring in it, who I thought were phenomenal!            

i love a woman in red

i love a woman in red

it sends signals inside my head

primal lust mixed with temperance

desire allure excitement

the colour of blood dripping red
a powerful woman approaching yes

not a mother daughter or sister no

instead someone you beckon close

without shame or regret things unfold

on the couch in the bed on the floor

within your heart one thousand colours burn to red

Bonded Slave Labour in Thailand Sex Industry

Wow I've been flicking through a book on the new form of slavery in the global economy in the book "Disposable People" by Kevin Bale and it's not a pretty read. Did you know a 'bonded labour' brothel in Thailand makes an average profit of $1 million U.S dollars a year. That's after all bribes and overheads are paid out. Unlike normal brothels were woman 'choose' to work at such places? in a bonded labour brothel a worker must payback an unserviceable debt to their employer. 

The estimated value of the sex trade in Thailand is estimated at around $26.25 billion u.s dollars a conservative estimate. When you read about the horrible working conditions of sex workers in Thailand and the pure form of exploitation of woman it does make you wonder why this is happening, until you factor in all the dirty money made from the industry. Contrary to what you might believe Thailand has enjoyed somewhat strong economic growth over a quite a few decades pulling millions of people out of poverty. Sadly the government and police suffer from systemic latent corruption and are heavily complicit in keeping the gravy chain of the sex industry churning over regardless of the human toll.

I was flabbergasted to hear that in the poorest areas of Thailand the northern mountain range region it is not uncommon recently for parents to sell a daughter to fund the purchase of a new television set. In contrast years ago but not to many a child was sold into slavery only as a last ditch attempt to save a family from destitution. Sadly though with the rampant consumerism taking hold of the Thai nation due to a healthier economy acquiring meaningless material goods is now seen as symbolic of prosperity and are treated as life threatening necessities. 

On a personal not I'm really glad I wasn't sold into slavery to fund a TV set during my youth, and worse still when your bought as a slave you incur a debt that you must pay back for your families sake as they are liable too. In the breakdown you get sold into slavery, your parents get paid the average $2000 dollars or less by the trafficker then you the newly coined slave have to pay it all back on-top of interest and all your expenses. Meaning that your value in reality when your sold is virtual nothing. Furthermore when it's all counted up all the labour you could've provided your family on the farm and domestically by remaining at home means that your parents don't even break even on the sale of their child! 

If you want to check out "Disposable People" here is the link: https://www.amazon.com/Disposable-People-Slave…/…/0520272919

Inspired by a Woman of Unearthly Beauty

You have the most
Beautiful eyes and nose
Your beauty is like a dancing muse making love to centaurs
Your eyebrows only accentuate the maddening affect your appearance has on my soul
I was once a lion now fully transformed I'm like a child one stones throw away from enlightenment
Inside my body I sing and preform sonatas in your honour
Though they never do you justice
I fear I have been reduced to a rambling fool drunk on love swinging on a bar stool
Lusciously and lavishly your lips seem to me worth more than riches
What a real woman can inspire in man knows no bounds
I would devote myself to slavery if it meant having you!

A Synopsis and Thoughts on: "The Survivalist" Movie (2015)

So I watched a film about a dude lost in a forest somewhere in Ireland living in a hut last night. 
The title of the film is "The Survivalist" with the stock story-line about everyone dying on earth
 and the only survivors being reduced to starvation and brutal savagery.

The unnamed male protagonist who looked to me like a closest ginger, runs a horticulture farm that he patrols with a random shotgun strapped to his back. I'd describe the main characters personality as un-waveringly paranoid. At any moment he looks like he's going to shot someone or something a racy prospect. 

Despite the formidable circumstances the lead characters finds himself faced with he manages to create a nice little pad for himself with wooden walls a fire, heaps of locks on all his doors and even some makeshift plumbing that gets fresh water into his hut from a nearby water hole. 

After a while the viewers becomes accustomed to the monotonous mans way of life governed by fear and death jumping out from behind him at any moment. Then suddenly two woman appear on the scene literally trying to steal his radishes from his garden, Peter rabbit style. The guy gets mad angry at them and points a shotgun at both of them but then relents allowing them to stay the night as he fancies the younger woman. Naturally from this point on there is a strong undercurrent that underpins the film of the two woman trying to kill the man so that they can take over the farm, there only real prospect of living through winter. 

During the numerous attempts of murdering the man the young girl (Mia Roth) and the male protagonist start having a whole bunch of sex and start getting on famously with a cute little relationship blossoming. The new couples status only further complicates things as the girls mother is still hell bent on killing the guy so that she can smoke his modest stash of cigarettes. 

Synopsis over watch the film to see what happens!

What I want to mention though is the compelling qualities of "The Survivalist" that highlight the innate ability for human beings to be cold and calculating killers with our inbuilt instincts to thrive and survive in adverse conditions. When we are introduced to the male protagonist you can't help but put yourself in his own position and understand how human beings came out of the forest and wilderness by killing as a way of survival and life over countless generations. It's funny to think how badly we believe modern society to be what is really amazing is how superiour it is in many ways to the lonely precarious nature of the survivalist man. If he breaks his leg or falls ill he dies, in modern society you can simply rest in bed or wait for your broken bones to heal. It's a small difference but a very significant one that we are allowed to survive through what were once fatal accidents that seemonly trivial to us now.

The film also highlights how humans survived or died in nature due to the ability to hide and stay concealed from other predators. The myth of the apex human killing machine is mis-leading and not really true. In the film we see how human beings in our natural habitat generally only kill out of self-defence and the protection of vulnerable others. The remedial tasks of gathering food in the film also shows how something that was once so tough and a year long ordeal for most is now as simple as shopping at the stupid supermarket. 

Lastly if this film succeeds in anything it's in awaking the hunter within the viewer. In modern society we sometimes find ourselves so removed from the wild and animals that we forget how we came to dominate them or take the position of shepherd over them. Sadly there are no animals in the film of the survivalist except a bunny rabbit so our place within the spectrum of animals and nature does not reverberate as strongly as it could of. The lack of companionship of the male protagonist does seem in many ways self imposed. But what is certain is how many is a rare type of creature suited to running, fighting, hiding and in general surviving against the odds and even with others trying to kill him at every fork in the road. 

The role of horticulture in the movie also conveys how humanity slowly started to bring a certain amount of stability to our lives as we moved away from foraging and were allowed to grow crops and surplus food that could be stored. 

One of the axes I have to grind with the movie is the naivety of which the protagonist planted and cropped his plants and where he situated his house/dwelling out in the open. It seemed to me a slight loop hole in the movie that the man didn't try very hard to hide his house and crops away from the prying eyes of evil stranges with bad intent. Paradoxically he chose to build his gardens in-front of his house with no protective measures or any thought of camouflage introduced. And for this reason in many ways he didn't really seem like much of a survivalist more a denialist of the necessity to be careful which he so often preached in the film but didn't practice nearly enough.  

A short poem inspired and written for a beautiful woman

You wouldn't want too   Go on a date sometime.  Would you
For I would love too.  Wine and dine.   With you
We could spend some money and time together
Please Forgive me If am so bold.   But i have noticed your ways and your won'ts
Plus how you dress and caress and love everything best
If I could     I would    Take your hand in mine
So overtime I would become yours.  And you would become mine.

The New Warpaint Record Sounds like a Minimal, Cult-Status, Rocker

My thoughts on the new record by Warpaint; very minimal, good drum sounds, unique tones on each track. The whole record is super-produced. I also think the album would have had a lot more impact if had come out prior to Lorde who has in effect taken the style of the new Warpaint record and delivered to the bulk of North America, before them. Having said this it may be good for the band as they may be more easily embraced by the music buying population. The bands new record is top notch indie release and super solid, you can tell a lot of people spent a ton of time and money on this record and its been worth it. I hope the sonic reverberations inside listeners heads are all positive because this is a nice record.

I mot not to sure how to assess it lyrically but hopefully there are more hooks that I heard on the first listen. Having said this critics have been ranting on about how the album fits together and slides into the next track really well. A brilliant release from the L.A woman maybe not a hit record but a timeless cult status record for sure and that aint bad !!! :)

Stream Warpaint's new album here: 

http://www.npr.org/2014/01/12/261054457/first-listen-warpaint-warpaint