Category Archives: Poetry

Driven To Despair

You’ve driven me to swear
Driven me and others to despair
You allowed the govt to not care
Torture degrade, create hate and fear

You’ve driven me to hate
Left me writhing at hell’s gate
Told me there I must wait
Want heaven’s door to be my fate

You’ve driven me insane
In your class war fucking game
They do the wrong, I take the blame
You’re heads you should hang in shame

You’ve driven me to drink
To numb the pain so I don’t think
About right-wing policies that truly stink
And their increasing NAZI link

You’ve driven me to yell
Denied the facts, why I’m not well
Burn here in the fires of hell
Fuelled by corruption of what I tell

You’ve driven me to scream
Give up my lifelong hopes and dream
I want to die you are so mean
Keep asking where my health care been


Help Me Minister

Mr Smith, Honourable Minister
Mr Smith, with ideas sinister

You expect your workers to deliver
Shit balls rolled in cabinet rooms
You expect your workers to deliver
A service that breaks all rules

Instead help me Mr Smith
Help me Minister, help me Nick

Because a damaged man he raped me
Every way he could
A damaged man he raped me
Because he knew he could

Help me justice system
Help me lawyers, help me chief

I’ve been asking for care and justice
Every way I could
I’ve been asking for care and justice
Because I knew I could

Help me health providers
Help me professionals, help me guiders
The injury of abuse
Treatment and neglect’s unfair
The injury of abuse
Should follow models of health care

Help me please my people
Help me beat it, help me heal

They took from me those ones
Those that understand
They took from me support
That steady guiding hand

Help me Mr Key, Prime Minister, help me please


Human Sewage

A minor & G, song

I am human sewage, the DHB decided so
Bob Francis said do nothing, pretend we don’t know

I am human sewage, ACC decided so
Nick Smith said lets do nothing, keep up this torture show

I am human sewage, the commissioners decided so
The Ombudsman said do nothing, we don’t wanna know what you know

I am human sewage, the government decided so
John Key said lets do nothing, keep up this hypocrite show

I am human sewage, our MPs decided so
When they all said “We can’t do nothin, go away we don’t wanny know”

I am human sewage, mental health decided so
In the Wairarapa are ignorant bigots, running a suicide show

Turning me to human sewage, standing here just so
A witness to the lies they’re telling, cause they’re cruel & I know

I am human sewage, many people decided so
When they all stood back and did nothing, that’s why I’m here on show

Singing we have human sewage, created some years ago
When neo-liberals took over this country & a right-wing agenda took hold

Aye aye aye aye aye
Aye aye aye aye aye aye
Aye aye aye aye aye
Aye aye aye aye aye aye


Beat Me Black With Blue

The knives they are out
And there is no doubt
The bigots just want me shut down

Use their unbridled power
From their ivory tower
To persecute degrade & hound

I know what’s right
How to fight the god fight
On the benches, in the streets, under ground

Its a part of our law
That you choose to ignore
Let ACC break legislation I’ve found

It’s unlawful what they do
Beat me black with blue
On their torture wheel going round & round

You don’t like what I say
That I hope & I pray
For the highways of hell you’re all bound


Farewell to Saffy dog, we’ll never forget you

We just scattered Saffy’s ashes at the dog park in Carterton and the end of Jellicoe Street in Greytown where she grew up.  Recited this poem I found in a book I read when I first got her as a puppy, because didn’t know about dogs then – she taught me so much, she loved us so much, she looked out for us and protected us for 14 years.


When God had made the earth and stars
The flowers and the trees
He then made all the animals
And all the birds and bees

And when his work was finished
Not one was quite the same
He said, “I’ll walk this earth of mine
and give each one a name.”

So he travelled land and sea
And everywhere he went
A little creature followed him
Until its strength was spent

When all were named upon the earth
And in the sky and sea
The little creature said. “Dear Lord
there’s not one left for me.”

The Father smiled and softly said.
“I’ve left you till the end,
I’ve turned my own name back to front
and called you dog my friend.”


Knockin on Heaven’s Door – poem from the darklands

Sittin here listening to Eric
In my battered old 50s rockin chair
My discman gives it to me just how I like it
Loud and surround in my ear

Off in the distance past the neighbours
The poplars whisper the winds symphony
As spirit blows cross the papa
There’s a storm brewin, sweepin up country

Eric’s started blowing harp in my head
And knockin on the door of the dead
Trying to keep it together, through this killer storm weather
A battle that fills me with dread

The CDs now on Guns N Roses
As the evening air touches my skin
And the cloud’s rolling in from the west
Like a woollen cloak being pulled cross the heavens

Now Axle starts knockin on the door
As only he knows how to do
He sings it, I live it
Trying that door to break through

Oh God when are they gunna listen
Their ears are so closed to our pain
The voice of those traumatised and poor
Writhing in pain, writhing in pain

The light is starting to fade……

Knock knock knockin on heaven’s door
Knock knock knockin on heaven’s door
Knock knock knockin on heaven’s door


Lawless Mongrels

Lawless mongrels in the studio
Lawless mongrels in a suit
Lawless mongrels talking bullshit
No matter who gets hurt

Lawless mongrels running countries
Lawless mongrels our MPs
Lawless mongrels in the media
Paper, radio and TVs

Lawless mongrels in the boardroom
Lawless mongrels up the street
Lawless mongrels in our government
Demonising poor beneath their feet

Lawless mongrels are those with power
Lawless mongrels with cash the ones
Lawless mongrels aren’t those out here
Our cruel society now shuns


John Edward Spencer – a loyal and true West Coaster

For many years he delivered stuff, trucked and carried it made him tough
Moving dirt, diging holes, Rapahoe to collect the coal
In the hopper, fill the sack, stack the truck, then on his back
Sewell, Revell, Brittain, Weld, through Hokitika, down Kaniere Road
Three bags or more it was hard, as a hundred bags could leave the yard

He always sung in the shower, he always sung with lots of power
Then one day we taped him in it, entered a competition and he won it
Weddings, parties, special days, Spence would sing with heart always
Dow the phone to grandkids, restless babies in their cribs

In his 40s he took to dramas, like Carousel and Oaklahoma
Singing Rambling Rose, Danny Boy, show songs and When A Child Is Born

Blokes in sheds, men in caves, he tried to fill them to the eaves
Wood for miles of all kinds, Totara, Rimu, Matai, Pine
Motorbike parts, lots of tools, big machines, three dozen files
He’d see a bargain and could not resist, his sheds were big and it would fit
Bolts and washers, nails and screws, ropes and showers, chimney flues
And in amongst it he would squeeze, his latest car if you please

Whitebaiting’s something most coasters do, Spence was usually there too
In recent times he lived for the season, feeding friends and family and cash the reason
Rowed his boat to his posey, between dawn and dusk he made the journey
Fished away the day in the beauty there, a weka nicked his lunchtime fare
Most fishermen exaggerate their catch, not whitebaiters, they’re to clever for that
And now we can reveal the truth, of what he caught he told you only half

Many remember him in his chair, in front of telly, sleeping there
When told you’re snoring louder than TV, he’d wake and say. “No it wasn’t me.”
For many years fires he did fight, the siren would sound and he’d take flight
There were good times for family too, Xmas parties, hangi’s, doo’s
Now we’re here to farewell this man, from near and far they’ve gathered ’round
Reminisce and celebrate John Edward Spencer, a loyal and true West Coaster.



Unequal Uneconomy

On Parliament steps I sit and I cry
Someone stops, sits and hugs me, says I understand why

My cloak is a sign begging Please Help Me God
Those cruel that work here, do what for a job?

A police car glides past, my body tenses in fear
Will I be violently arrested, then my complaints they’ll not hear

They care not in the beehive for the broken-hearted in pain
When the desperation for care overwhelms my traumatised brain

People getting paid to support politicians so cruel
Deny abused women and children, create suicide rocket fuel

To my left here are libraries with all the knowledge they need
There’s a church with a book I suggest that they read

Surrounding this place are four courts of law
District High Appeal and Supreme are all flawed

When it’s the government torturing you, neglecting you too
There are no lawyers, no judges, no justice for you

You’re forced to beg on hands and knees in the street
To write desperate words at rich people’s fee

For wanting and needing the care that laws say
When they won’t follow the rules there’s nothing left but to pray

Why don’t the media report on such stuff
About exposing the truth when we’ve all had enough

Because cruel people with jobs, freedom, power and money
Cruel people being heard created this unequal uneconomy

Where once we all prospered under leaders who cared
Neo-liberals took over, now nothing is spared

Not the law, not the truth, not the people, not our sanity
Not the planet, our culture, our freedom, our humanity.

Never enD

800 YEARS – a poem to commemorate the Magna Carta 2015

Lots of things wrong with justice and right
The disabled in a never ending fight

If you’ve got money you’ve got justice and calm
It’s greedy rich who created this harm

Haven for them and hell for the poor
Then send police to knock on your door

Meat in the sandwich is what I see
Keeping the peace is what police should be

Take those immoral neo-liberals to court
Keep the peace for what men fought

Build everybody a place to live
Stop fucking taking, now time to give

Collect more taxes from the rich pigs now
Pay off debt then saved interest we plough

Grow our country back to something great
Leave behind this neo-liberal mistake

800 Years since the Magna Carta was signed
Today’s injustices weighing on my mind


Just wrote this – feels good – going to a talk on the Magna Carta on Friday, hope I get to share it, will chalk it on the street if it is fine, taking a few signs as well.

If you like my poetry nominate me for poet laureate before 6 July 2015 – tell your friends – lets see what a poet can do in two years and imagine what the politicians and media are going to do – the looks on their faces would be …… priceless.