cascading promises belie shallow shimmers,
and thrown stones skim a quickly fading rainbow
squandered gambits do not beget trust
you’ll find an emperor in the airport rush has no more power than a magpie.
representation is more than a tri-annual kia ora, and
incrementalist wins confront a world made of hares.
in it for who, exactly?
see, it’s a quarter to five and eggs still cost thirteen dollars
this afternoon white knuckles scrub ceiling mould
and white lips blessed having a landlord at all;
it’s in the cents you didn’t return
and understanding it could’ve been dollars
chips and pies dot headlines but don’t make it past your smeared chapstick
a vote is more than a tuck shop I O U
and relatability doesn’t fill a puku.
idolatry sees the Grimms’ return
hark the second coming of Snow White
narcissus would poll at 40.7%
because cult soothes a poor man’s suspicions.
epsom salts are the latest cure-all
for the ever-faint lilied nation
a bumbling buzzy bee touting the newest flavour of innocuous parasite
masking illicit in publicity
repeat 1789 in self-grandiosity but once mistakes change their waltz
what’s a crowd for an ego?
October knights can-can until they kick the ever forgetful pawn
hypocrisy leads the way, economic downfall can marry tax cuts,
it’s the same whack-a-mole answers and pushback my grandfather heard.
just dress up lust for power in ever righteous robes
and you’ve got yourself a winner
fence our tracks with ruby-tinged tar that will smooth my fleeted tree hug
filled potholes won’t stop a determined premonition anymore than a marble could trip up a truck.
tākaro with the big guys but what is left on display
infighting only holds a breath in soap operas
and this is billed as a grassroots tragedy.
fringes went out of fashion a decade ago but betting on the underdog didn’t,
jaded is a bit too close for comfort
in a crisis cycle that reminiscences Cuba
and making noise comes easier than sound policy.
outdated frequencies whet a war waltz
but i thought this was a group competition
glossy billboards overlook despondent citizens
our short-sighted capital breeds restlessness and inertia in equal terms
the old hand knows three’s not a crowd
among the cracked and bowed at scarlet-crusted hilt.
blinkered and bush-beaten, a well-trodden desire path can be a cartographer’s folly,
and attention is owed not to where magpies flock,
but to the articulated pawn’s endgame.