02 October 2014

Refuting The Truth

There’s a new direction to contend with, 
perhaps those doldrums of melancholy 
recede and we bargain with ourselves; 
it was an age of assurance-seeking - in 
actions of still far-too-remote-selves not 
willingly at hand, all wilfully denying the 
obligation to resolve the here and now
that is the sand we’d been built upon 

Now impetus exists where a vagueness 
of impasse played to an empty stadium; 
it was wasted until applause tamed that 
echo of emptiness - saying deliver your 
lines to a mirror and hear its ambiguity 
before it refutes all evidence of truth 

© 15 September 2014, I. D. Carswell

01 October 2014

Y’ Listening?

Th’ dog’s latest attention-evoking ambit 
is a 'nudge-bludgeoning' of my left arm  
his nose employed as a ‘hand’ seeking 
contact while his paws scratch brutally 
such one complains or’s shredded into 
a raw mess; what’s brought this on you 
ask not expecting an explanation - and 
he farts a tacit essence of an answer 

You’ve spent six hours sitting in front of 
that iMac, you’ve missed every cue I’ve 
given - & you’re lacking any energy; so 
now that you’re having difficulty with y’ 
breathing let’s go get us each a breath 
of fresh air while y’ take me for a walk 

So, the Great Outdoors beckons eh, a 
worthy subterfuge m’ man but you can 
avail y’ self anytime y’ want, off you go 
its there, just outside the door; - so he 
re-begins random scratching regime’s 
displacement activity - & farts again 

© 2 September 2014, I. D. Carswell

30 September 2014

Know The Difference

Too early to pass judgment - there’s no way 
you can assess easily whether this birthday 
will be the best ever; it is safer to say any a 
year you survive rests where accolades are 
rare salutes earned on life’s event parade  

Being a good judge of fortune’s benefice is 
all the reward needed to be thankful and at 
peace, no need for gaudy tributes or lease
feasting on fancies you’ll seldom see make 
the grade to gratuitous embrace anyway 

So there we’ll let it stand; awakening warm 
and comfortable began a day to keep mind 
of what cannot be changed; there’s many a 
decade between you & what once was, yet 
what is does not judge that separation 

Be thankful you know the difference …
© 6 September 2014, I. D. Carswell

The Poet turned 69 years of age on this day … 

29 September 2014

ISIS Insularity

Whether calling them Wahhabists, shaking your head 
aghast at resurgence of that ‘grey’ doctrinairism won't 
stop these relics from murdering; Sunni versus Shi’ite, 
or any in their way of achieving an ‘Islamic’ Statehood 
where infidel fodder will be used as grist to the mill of 
Islam’s inspired intransigence: their aim is recreation, 
not integration, Islam to be purified in all Imams’ eyes 
shaded of gross crimes ‘created in doctrinal purity’ 

The secular world can go bless itself stupid, and even 
if it exists - won’t have long left before a new regime’s 
auspices will convert all that; the choice is change, or 
death - either you accept their belief or cease to be, it 
is that easy in their reasoning; notoriously murderers 
are given to simplistically insular modes of thought 

© 3 September 2014, I. D. Carswell

28 September 2014

Between Materialities

flat-out wavering between materialities, a 
guilt-trip down denouement lanes of one-
way memory, remembered vaguely; said 
it isn’t like cruising on empty, at least not 
in the sense of anxious gauge watching - 
although if you’re past that stage all ears 
subsume in an engine’s beat; & all of the 
analogies carry facets of truth we ‘oldies’ 

deny occasionally - but cannot escape in 
an accidental reprieve of favour; we’re all 
products guaranteed of whom we were - 
even so the ‘who really was he?’ theme 
stings like over-enthused backslaps too 
jocularly delivered to be less insulting 

so we fake it any which way; there isn’t a 
choice you alone have unless you own a 
identity patent for real - tho’ crikey, we’re 
still breathing aren’t we, or is imagination 
running over-time; n’ who’s bloody turn’s 
it now to change the beast’s pages…

© 5 September 2014, I. D. Carswell

27 September 2014

Tawny Blessing

‘Tawny Frogmouth’ no less, but not an owl and 
not t’ be muddled with ‘The Southern Boobook’  
which is (and called mopoke); don’t ask, it’s as 
obvious as the noise it makes - which suggests 
the further south you go the weirder sound that 
differentiates, ending in the Tasmanian Spotted 
Owl or Morepork which is in KiwiLand too; yep 
be confused, and they all look very much alike 

But th’ mate I’m onto was a local who’d staked 
himself in broad daylight on the lawn obviously 
unafraid letting me take pictures before he flew 
away into the ash tree; didn’t answer my query 
wotcha up t’ cobber, yet afforded an imperious 
glance suggesting I go read Wikipedia asap 

Having done that I’m now intrigued with habits 
and habitat - seems they’re ace predators who 
like tasting both large & small insects regularly; 
having these guys happily located in fruit trees 
means the Orchard has ‘mopoke’ allies whose 
given-to cries are indeed blessings disguised 

© 11 September 2014, I. D. Carswell

26 September 2014

Wind Me Up

Stereotypy - that awkwardly and indefinably 
least defence against someone’s taking the 
mickey out of you - or best offensive way of 
taking the piss; - being a wee bit offended’s 
not remiss - else you won’t be stereotypic - 
which is a predictable if not gross miss-use 
of sociometry suggesting we ‘got you on a 
string’ - ah ha, the inimitable yo-yo no less 

And here endeth this lesson; now wind me 
up, drop me by the way - gravity’s the only 
energy I’ll need to gain that head of steam, 
and when I’m up to speed you’d best be in 
a safer place than where you started what 
became an asymptotic reciprocity 

© 20 August 2014, I. D. Carswell

25 September 2014

New Perspective

No, not dreaming it - seeing the evidence clearly, 
there’s clarity in an exceptional perspective here; 
it isn’t the game you’d usually expect, & because 
its called Rugby, that you’d see ‘same old, same 
old’ - but it isn’t the way these blokes are playing; 
there’s the physicality you’d hold as unavoidable 
demonstrably blessed in constructive energy, ok 
that’s a given, but it does not degrade strategies 

of proper team contribution - and that stalemates  
occasions where losing your rag is rank stupidity 
which won’t aid your cause, - but your mates are 
quick to see you need moral support; all of it was 
evidenced in two games of ITM Cup I’d manifest 
as compulsory viewing this past Sunday … 
© 24 August 2014, I. D. Carswell 

For the record:
Auckland 35 - Manawatu 7 
Tasman 56 - Bay of Plenty 27

24 September 2014


If the rain had intended suppress energy 
you didn’t possess it’d have won the day 
without argument - so an idea you might 
have had some say in it wasn’t credible - 
although you couldn’t express it anyway 
I mean what’s in an ‘empty’ failure threat 
when you intended doing nothing - ‘cept 
crack a beer ’n watch th’ Footy 

Look - you start to say, I’m not lacking in 
energy, but any weird notions on how to 
achieve things in the rain means getting 
wet - so we’ll can it as a dumb outcome; 
a warm seat, with outside views instead 
of raindrops dripping down your face, is, 

Believe me - an amazing revelation - 

© 23 August 2014, I. D. Carswell

23 September 2014

Honeyed Words

It isn’t a criticism although it will seem so - like 
an unasked for vision where observation flows 
uneasily, but then the setting of priorities can’t 
be honey-like always; maybe in eventual taste 
you’ll sweeten to a view where what you think 
is the only true flavour allows new sensations, 
so without ceremony things get done with this 
difference in priority yet accomplish the same 

Even if it wasn’t done your way - did you think 
it disrespect in a new perspective, or even the 
identified enemy; it wasn’t keeping status quo 
safe if that meant don’t think it through, which 
has a quaint echo of your urgency - in spur of 
the moment we’d see a lifetime’s loquacity 

© 25 August 2014, I. D. Carswell

22 September 2014

Stormy Weather

The only one here who’s unamused with any 
forecasters rhetoric is the dog; he’s confused 
by thunder, and lightening isn’t his first choice 
for entertainment - but to escape it ain’t really 
a choice as there’s nowhere soundproofed to 
a degree that would mean hiding out with his 
equanimity intact - so he’s lurking beside the 
rubbish bin next to the kitchen door ‘asleep’ 

When I indicated all the birds were still at it - 
entertaining each other in the trees he chose 
to ignore me; a pointed gesture of how dumb 
are you implied in his swift departure inside - 
and absence from his place beside my chair 
says it all - there’s no decency in you mate 

So I’m sitting here listening to the shush of a 
gentle rain while thunder rumbles out where 
the birds complain they need more moisture 
than this if they’re to get a decent bath; well - 
its my guess what they’d say if a dearth of it 
recently's worth such an erudite observation

© 27 August 2014, I. D. Carswell

21 September 2014

Low-Pressure Event

Spent most of the day awaiting the windy weather 
predicted to ‘shriek’ us out of our misery - 90 knot 
gales they said - & naming just about everywhere 
near as being in th’ line of expiration - was gonna 
say fire, but wouldn’t consider it prudent use in th’ 
circumstances; and well, as yet it hasn’t raised its 
breath over a balmy zephyr’s happening, a ‘twixt 
‘n ‘tween situation that’ll perplex nobody badly 

But we’d have to wag a finger at terminology the 
meteorology set use, describing excessive better 
rather than in error; now whether the relief offers 
enough space t’ forgive ‘em for raving about that 
low-pressure offshore excretion moots the grace 
to recall tout suite they occasionally get it right 

© 28 August 2014, I. D. Carswell

20 September 2014

Symptomatic Echoes

Whether you see it an affect of a local aberration 
or symptomatic echo resonating from hidden yet 
much larger conflagration, it’s fire and brimstone 
out there - fuelled actively by mouths of mullah’s 
whose motives are ‘pure’ as Qur’an’s citations - 
reading texts of obsolete events no less subject 
to interpretation; can silent majorities stand and 
correct jihadist views of what is true or right ?

There’s no easy answer where moderates ply a 
tortuous course between faith and unity - to fear 
judgement and its consequence in the hands of 
arms-bearing mujahideen risibly intent on ‘jihad’ 
seeking religious and moral perfection, says no 
choices remain beyond their abject silence 

Most atrocities committed on any day in this so-
called civilised World bear those marks we have 
come to perceive as endeavours ‘jihadis’ deem 
auspicious demonstrations of faith; in the event 
every death omnisciently demonstrates there’s 
no more room for more jaundiced applause 

© 29 August 2014, I. D. Carswell


19 September 2014

Opportunity Of Mischance

We actually play games with words when we refer 
the ‘conflict’ other’s see to an apathy of indigence; 
that its too self-centred to have any meaning from 
another’s point of view doesn’t disarm accusation, 
in claiming the rounds were incoming we’re telling 
what targets see of an avenue-narrow opportunity 
of mischance, they were aimed at ME; which may 
be true if you’re holding the RPG-29 - or an uzi 

But when a ‘target of opportunity’ isn’t claiming to 
be anything but an element of bizarre strategy I’d 
expect there’d be confusion as to why, & the plan 
may be anything but logical; the words play tricks 
with shell-shocked ears in ways you’ll try to deny 
rather than explain yourself ‘failing’ emphatically 

© 1 Sep 2014, I. D. Carswell

18 September 2014

Ebola Grief

So imagine it this way, Ebola isn’t the enemy, leastways 
not in the sense of rabidly seeking vectors to spread its 
pestilence; bats do the deed, gorillas and chimpanzees 
initially the usual victims, a viral infection then transmits 
from carcasses, spreading deadly trails to all members 
of the clade or clan with its key being familial contact in 
the effects of intimacy - this is the saddest bit to grieve,  
catalyst for hideous and agonising hemorrhagic death 

But the disease does not mutate and spread on a whim 
randomly; there are clear and definable needs for virus’ 
spread which can and should be contained, but an idea 
that it isn’t as natural as it seems almost estranges their 
reasoning there is more to be explained - like a vaccine 
to combat what an incipient biological weapon might be 

© 27 August 2014, I. D. Carswell

17 September 2014


Not my ass-pi-rations but close enough to suggest 
vodka complements toothpaste & best as a mouth 
wash; there you’ve been caring enough to make it 
an excuse for that hinted taint of evidence & when 
you’re caught out your bonafides remain intact; its 
vodka isn’t it; nah mouthwash you reply, hinting of 
largesse normally unobtainable unless the minted 
overtones come from a tube of toothbrush gel 

So what’s with the decadence then; mellowing, or 
a rage against the dying of the light - more a flight 
of fantasy & one, I contend, long overdue; do you 
remember when the waking ache could only be in 
part dispelled with gargled concoction nonsenses 
erasing undiluted vodkas of the previous evening 

© 21 August 2014, I. D. Carswell

16 September 2014


A ‘first’ agreement will need more parts than 
esoteric ideas, but given we are beyond that 
obligatory cannonade there’ll need be a slew 
of adjustment, we’ll have to accept change in 
what we used to value; with the bed unmade 
I’ll sleep less-rousing accolades - & probably 
alone as you already sleep in your TV chair, 
relaxed into preferred laptop snooze mode 

But it won’t remain this way, routines take on 
colours of their surrounds, blending into grey 
extensions deemed ‘wholes’ we are obliged 
to surmise; - for clarity we’ll examine all until 
they disappear - revealing new personalities 
to cosset - to treasure as our special reality 

It won’t happen in a day; - clouds obscuring 
transparency are seen permanent-featured, 
for-granted refusals paying nothing other to 
new, free-agent, witness-bared, old-agenda 
repaved-adages that rarely appeal; - thus it 
shouldn’t surprise you none was never true 

It isn’t forked-stick chance - or slick-tongued 
opportunistic badinage - its you and me at a 
crux of something that’s bigger than either of 
us combined; but if we do not become ‘one’ 
we’ll be at its mercy - easily divided - fools 
to multitudes of frivolous platitudes 

Thus ‘who’ matters isn’t me or you - it is ‘us’ 

© 15 August 2014, I. D. Carswell

15 September 2014


Saying you’re NOT impressed by esoteric design 
concepts bests the idea of what entertains so I’m 
not a good ‘epithets’ candidate; my feedback’s no 
fantasia of enthusiastic oohs and ahas playing th’ 
lost-to-reality game - psychosis is still disease I’d 
rather not recognise as symptoms of an amazing 
recherch√©-expressed design talent in a kitchen to 
die for if you’re not into cooking’s corporeality 

You can agree it looks sensational; the art-work’s 
avant-garde aestheticism, a stand-alone piece of 
collectors’ memorabilia displayed so assertively it 
will never be mistaken ‘a kitchen to be worked in’
did I dare say that, oh silly me - it must’ve been a 
languorous slip of the ogre’s tongue 

© 7 August 2014, I. D. Carswell

A Podge Perspective

Podge put it in perspective today - there 
are no dramas mate, or damned decency 
about it either - like most of the day away 
less any explaining beyond a doggy pout; 
I think he calls it a canine chuckle! What’s 
th’ GO cobber I ask, if it’s about your not 
knuckling down to discipline, you’ll need 
a cracker excuse to t’ buy a reprieve - 

Or’ll y’ go ratty on me for expecting you 
stay home. He replies with erudite smirk 
implying - So, y' got a problem? Y’ knew 
where I was, y’all didn’t come fetch me 
’til they texted - c’mon, I’m not naive, 
I was there - watching the fingers fly 

© 21 August 2014, I. D. Carswell

14 September 2014

Better Ideas

It isn’t playing games, although recreational rules apply 
naming who’s on whose side; what we’re into here is a 
wiser supply of energy than brute force of saw - or axe 
to golden cane palms fractiously growing clumps into a 
view they’re supposed to compliment, not obscure; she
initially applauds ‘pruning’ efforts 

but suggests it equates more to a ‘hand-wave’ in effect 
than a serious gesture - three tries later we’re done 

Yep you can see the in-need-of-a-spray lime trees now 
while the poinciana stands stark and clear, when it’s in 
flower it will be a breathtaking scene; succulents & the 
dragon plants beneath now have an aspirant’s chance 
to impress anyone who cares to see beyond what was 
an open mesh fence around an out-of-use dog’s pen 

You try to decide what’ve we actually achieved, or is it 
clear there’s more’n met eyes afore the golden cane’s 
demise - what subterfuge, what subtlety is afoot here - 
and do we need to have its measure clear? Ah, not so 
in a way which suggests sophisticated manipulation is 
surveying the best means of expressing better ideas 

© 13 August 2014, I. D. Carswell