trains over cliffs on friday the 13th

Tearing the mist on Island Bay is a song from Aandhi and another from
Jism after a hearty dinner of alu mutter (pea and potato) made exactly
the way mom made them. Mom is fine. I took the train to Wellington on
Friday the 13th after Lemona's mom dropped me. I finally left my
karmic connection with Hamilton. No drama, no sensitive staring at the
green moon river, no nothing. Cambridge was a respite but then the
marriage party started coming and I had booked the train journey that
started 10 minutes late with a one-woman army who was the ticket
person, the coolie, the station master and turned into our tour guide.
The train though small was on the posh side with a panaromic window
that showed the brown rail-tracks over bridges and fir trees and
national parks but then Friday the 13th showed its true colours after
I got the sandwich on a discount in the train cafetaria. The lady was
nice to me. On our tracks a train had derailed and thus both the
trains on either side were stuck. One from Wellington to Auckland and
another from Auckland to Wellington and thus the passengers were
exchanged through an in-between bus journey and Wellington train went
backwards literally. So I had my back to the engine like the rest of
the gang. Not very comfortable but besides the usual horses, sheep and
cows and I was bored and had missed my bus to Napier and thus would be
stranded in Wellington in a backpacker but luckily my ticket was valid
to Wellington and I finally found my flatmates number and texted her
and after texting the other flatmate organised that I could keep my
luggage there over texting since I was supposed to arrive in
Wellington on 24 but they were good...the flatmates I had never seen.
My luggage posed additional problems as it was too much and I could
not move my stuff to the taxi stand nor bus stand. Luckily, the hot
train staff gave me a ligt to island bay and my flatmates picked me up
on a warm night in winter outside a Malaysian Satay restaurant. The
house is on a hill and has the most stunning views and Fi gave me
blankets, a hug, lots of smiles and thus I got to stay in the sleepout
like Karin and Campbell go away for two months on 24th.
On the first day in the most golden sunshine, I walked to the shops
and walked to my Arts School. It is the most breathtaking place on the
planet. Imagine Xavier college in the Amazon jungle. The entrance has
a thick foliage and then you see an old building that looks like a
church and is probably haunted and has the nation's best designers,
carvers, clay model, painters and illustrators teaching there. I sat
there for two hours and then walked back on the pedastrian pathway on
the edge of the mountain with white railings and across the second
hill is my house. When we stand on clear days you can see the whole
Island bay and all the houses on the slope that leads up and today it
was misty and planes did not fly and we went to shop in Pak N Sav and
initially the mist felt cold and it lifted and became sunny again. I
went to the library and after a month of not working and travelling
and resting in colourful cambridge; am bored and ready to start any
job.
By the way they are going to read my poem on radio.
It is 10 pm and I am thinking of the best part of the train journey
over the straight right angle cliffs over white river rafting river.
That was the best part of the journey...otherwise a headache induced
by salted peanuts and backward movement

Winter plunge

a dark wind over silver beet
and yellow orange look alike that sparrows magnet to
awaiting a twisty path over mountain pathways
northland closes its misty gates to ravines downstairs

Library yellow flowers

smile's a geometric window
yellow flowers beside iron lamp post
near the fountain and curry place
words float float float
your specks are a crab gone pretty
smile is for all and the blind soothsayer
looks into her scythe shaped yellow banana in sky
and a blue bright crystal ball
he's unstoppable the dark lord that has cat fluff
on his new sniper jacket
It's a moon in cancer pronouncing love
as your lips part bite smile...

Cause Cambridge sun is rising low

your curly garden kid
under a million stars
and smoke
and rain
and sun
and light

i await
the dark side train
to napier past wellington
i respite
breathing
the breathless love
of the brilliant night
with zillion stars

as i sleep on your large bed
and find home and
whanau
and friendship
and truth,
justice
intelligence
under the lemon tree

silver beet foliage
and a road
that shows
the world its love.

Cambridge

curly kid runs
amok with
sensitive eye
and homeless cartoon network

cause mold is gone
and garden gleams
in a glory of a bygone era
a smoke that
comes out of your chimney
as vodafone is kept in business

perfection is the pillow
that sleeps

heavy
and away

from fatigue
runs to sanddunes
in dreams and nights

a vigilant dad
awaits you home
that is millions of field miles
under a zillion stars
on a clear night

it is nature.
It is cows
horses
and
meadow green
and
love
for human beings.
as kids are warm
and granddad reads
and mauvi is lost
in his private paradise

the words are clear…
the lung needs air…
the air
that Cambridge bestowed
is unfortunately not there

as tongan marriage party
coming near
and cousins
and brothers
and tongan beauties
and all night
you need to sing and dance

save a lung you need it
while you still have a chance.

Ode to Wellington

Oh Wellington
I thought
thee art Bexity
in those ten days of my second coming

wellington thy words have fallen into a green ocean where ducks float to the edge

I was chased out of here (before) by cat poo and creaking floors after a samoan intercity handy night

I ran pacific shaken as birds flew billed to the edge like everyone else from Lyall bay taxied for $35


As I stand here and wonder what happened to emma's crying blue eyes I chase

Tepapapa's million portraits and victoria's nursing shadows from a dusty bagpackers

To nomadic heights. I chase distant 18th century lanterns over the oriental bay


Dan climbed faster than me as I spoke to the cute nurse. Oh! I love cute nurses like I love librarians and old castles and Anglican churches and graveyards

Day one was when we had Indian curry on cuba street and saw panaromic views of the city and tried apologizing to old flatmates but the bitch was a fat piece of crap at the edge of northland ready to fall in her rotting wood like a insect with juicy breasts

Then came day two (technically day four) but who wants to know about my first trip anyway?

I thought lower hutt was a beach and upper hutt where the rich lived not graffiti brats trying to be black

Nor orange airport bus drivers that hated life and living things and I swung on kid's swings and slid down

The slide that faced the sea and Circa's Linda who thought American Pilot must be watched.

Was watched
Next day after what happens in vegas and wheat juice as I bunked with 5 girls how lucky can backpackers get
Day three is when the only guy left and the English snore girl left but the American and German cunt

And the nice pommy girls remained. I hated the german and found the anarchist internet place

And without feeding the pigeons went up the cable car and saw Island bay and Khandalla and Mt. Victoria

Where a Chinese bus driver told me that the city was egalitarian and the lights were real. Not Mission bay

I thought



I had eaten my samosas and discussed women with downtown backpacker guys and devoured kachori

And ate English hot cauliflower curry what an error who'd think pommies liked it hotter than frozen meat

The university gave me my wind cheater jacket that can make you sweat but next day I cross cook strait


The grey morning got into stunning sounds after hearing arctic stories and weed-ridden heart break song

The wind could blow you far away

A library and friendly $2 museum and the dutch that cycled two islands to save africa's children

And then I met hannah and of course Melonee…princess Taurus Melanie like bex only few days apart and what lovely women eternal and thus I saw Te Papa. Oh my god Tepapa made my life a work of art and pictures kissed my soul and city's traffic lights in oil and tram and red post box made me breath but Melanie left as I explored caves downstairs and stuff the birds who gives a dime


And slept through the arvo after a hot feast and Paddington Coat Factory's lovely long jacket held Melanie as we smiled should we have kissed?

The kiwi bargain hunting second hand wedding packed dan to palmy and I loved kapiti bay and how Saturdays were times when you got a few deals.

Melanie and I were awkward again and she spend time with her lot and packed her bags with a ferocious noise and I was lost.


Found in empathy by Bex

And the city gallery and the art gallery but Bex essentially Bex. Connections from another world and I know…I was there.

But buses did not come through and taupo was lost and like Indiana Jones I could not revive my first day at burger King and the second hand book shop that had the most amazing legs on display


And the 7th day when Borders looked bigger than a library and friendlier than a autumn coloured yellow red maple leaves behind the bee hive and embassies

Bex went home and Melanie was gone and all these people that we knew from last life did not give a damn or pretended they did not understand

Dan left for Melbourne

He wanted to be worthy of the city

And return to Wellington

I met Kelly's services and rested

And thought of all these that came from nowhere like sharks at Mangonui


Tried the satay roti paratha

A Singaporean delicacy that originated in India

I ditched telecom and all my telecom friends and called them fat and ugly

And in the pouring rains went into bird sanctuary and future flatmates windswept homes and cold Wellington rivers as robins did their things and Americans dropped me to botanical gardens

As an angry driver gave me hell

I won a sipper in the mall

And 20 push-ups later

A giant drink

I had enough.



Tomorrow I leave.

This was Bex's city

And I will return and the sun came out

But everything else was dark for now.




Oh wellington you have been kind to me tonight.

meetin bex

running shadows you pack your bags and rains and storms and cook straitbleedsand paint falls on civic square and lies and misunderstandings of closedheartsbirds sing in their black sanctuary...Te Papa quakes and you know loveis commercea glance a smile and unsaid word a friend a laughter as light runsout...Bex is thereyou have a pal.