under the party tree

under the party tree lie

the carcasses

of ice cream cones

and the tortured remains

of a pizza

hell hath no fury

like a school on picnic.

the bottlebroke tree

bottlebroke has just gone international! (well, they always say that like it's a good thing). entered 'the bottlebroke tree' at this years trees at the meteor event. also saw some of the trees being prepared, and they are *brilliant! hope to see them when they are all ready.

the tree is an adaptation of the bottlebroke lamps, with the addition of discarded wood pallets and cycle tubes. it has been an exciting (and scary) time making this, as i have struggled with ideas, with techniques, with materials. and finally, i had to edit. in a funny way, the 'artist statement' helped me edit, and stop myself from putting in things that didn't add to the mix.

the bottlebroke tree is a meeting of urban inner city broke-as living, a number 8 wire mentality and a reduce-reuse-recycle ethic, dressed in the attitude and aesthetics of punk. hope does not grow in the gardens of the nice and pretty, it springs from the worm pits of despair. may you rage against the machine, this christmas and always.

i'm offering the piece for sale, to help raise money for the local group of amnesty international. any help much appreciated!

NOTE: much thanks to dee for helping with the pictures, the listing, and generally putting up with the grumpy artist-fartist at work!

almost tolstoy

whoopee we're all gonna die

and it's one, two, three, what are we fighting for
don't ask me i don't give a damn, next stop is afghanistan
and it's five, six, seven, open up the pearly gates
ain't no time to wonder why, whoopee we're all gonna die

(adapted from the wise words of country joe)

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LBdeCxJmcAo#

christmas smells

this christmas has a different smell.

none of the pine quickened

charcoal fires

of a biting winter night

or the pork-and-mustard-leaf happiness

the stench of tribal feasting.

this christmas is lush

fed by a swollen river

and shaded by the broad leafed trees

of tane's mighty garden.

and try as i might

i cannot smell a feast.

note: tane is pronounced to rhyme with the 'ne' of the english word 'net'. tane is the maori god of the forests.

strange spring

the sky

is a surly sodden blanket

the river

bloated with mud

strange spring, this

at the end

of a long dark winter

strange spring, this

dressed in autumn brown

strange spring this-

and what will summer

bring?

another grin!

got news that a few poems have been accepted for publication in a blackmail press ezine:

"blackmail press is a resource created to give poets, students and poetry lovers in New Zealand a site to read, submit and find great poetry. The impetus was to promote New Zealand poets and to provide an environment for emerging New Zealand poets to share their works."

rather kicked- i've been *really scared of submitting poetry to zines! i really like some of the poetry on, and am honoured to be a part of this!

grin.