POETRY
I have won a number of awards for my performance poetry, including the prestigious Montana Poetry award for best performance poet in Auckland in 2006. I have a unique, powerful, hard core style. Below is a poem from my poetry book. If after reading the excerpt(s) you are interested in reading the entire poetry book, I am happy to send you it in PDF and/or word form although I do ask for a koha (donation) of any amount to go toward my latest creative Feature Film Project Te Toa...The Warrior. So if you want to read my poetry book in full please contact me (via the contact page) and I will send you the poetry book and the bank account details for the donation to be made toward the making of Te Toa...The Warrior. Also, as part of my fundraising efforts for the making of Te Toa...The Warrior, I undertake live poetry performances. So if you would like me to come and perform a poetry performance to your group etc. I am happy to do so. The charge is $10 per person (with a minimum of twenty people). Kia-ora.
MAP OF THE HUMAN HEART
Gary Gilmore
(the executioner’s song)
You wandered alone in search of the emptiness
of a ancient night
Where
in the dreams upon the sleep of desires
you
swam in a void of hope
and
were refreshed with light
as God lay you down to sleep
You awoke to find yourself in a poker game of chance where the only rule was the rule of fate
and your card was dealt out
Black bitch
queen of spades
whore of the damn
impossible dream
(to dream
the impossible dream
to fight
the unbeatable foe
to dream
the impossible dream)
Dancing on the highway of a midsummer’s sun
you
crash to the beat of the funky hips
trying to make sense
of what you don’t understand and never did and never will
So you try to knock the black bitch of fate out
you throw a left jab and a right hook
but she ducks and dives
then catches you with a right uppercut
smack bang K’OD out
Wearily as you lay on the canvas of wrecked dreams and forlorn hopes
burned to embers and dust by the ravages of tide and time and life
you smile knowing full well that your body may be beaten but your soul is not
Embracing the mists of yesterdays shadows
which haunt your mind
when you are alone at night and the world is not watching
your soul cries itself to sleep
as you gulp and gasp and struggle
to find the problems to the solutions
(and until
the philosophy
which hold one race superior and another inferior
is abandoned and abolished
everywhere is war)
Fear barks at your feet as you try to run away
from the pit-bull of failure snapping at your heels
so you run and run and run
until you get mad with the fear and kick it square up the bum
finding that the pit-bull was just a poodle in disguise
as it yelps away with it’s tail between it’s legs
(yelp yelp yelp yelp yelp yelp)
Resolve fills your soul as you decide to follow the American dream and to hell with the black bitch of fate
so you score yourself a saw-off pump action shotgun
and rob and rape and pillage
and blow every muthafucka scum sucker away who ever fucked with you
And when you end up on death row
and as they squeeze the triggers to take away your life
your mind hears one last tune sung by the legendary ol’ blues himself...Take it away
Mr Frank Sinatra...
...(What is a man?
What has he got?
If not himself, then not a lot
Let the record show, yeh let the record show
I took the blows, yeh I took the blows, but, I did it my way).
(the executioner’s song)
You wandered alone in search of the emptiness
of a ancient night
Where
in the dreams upon the sleep of desires
you
swam in a void of hope
and
were refreshed with light
as God lay you down to sleep
You awoke to find yourself in a poker game of chance where the only rule was the rule of fate
and your card was dealt out
Black bitch
queen of spades
whore of the damn
impossible dream
(to dream
the impossible dream
to fight
the unbeatable foe
to dream
the impossible dream)
Dancing on the highway of a midsummer’s sun
you
crash to the beat of the funky hips
trying to make sense
of what you don’t understand and never did and never will
So you try to knock the black bitch of fate out
you throw a left jab and a right hook
but she ducks and dives
then catches you with a right uppercut
smack bang K’OD out
Wearily as you lay on the canvas of wrecked dreams and forlorn hopes
burned to embers and dust by the ravages of tide and time and life
you smile knowing full well that your body may be beaten but your soul is not
Embracing the mists of yesterdays shadows
which haunt your mind
when you are alone at night and the world is not watching
your soul cries itself to sleep
as you gulp and gasp and struggle
to find the problems to the solutions
(and until
the philosophy
which hold one race superior and another inferior
is abandoned and abolished
everywhere is war)
Fear barks at your feet as you try to run away
from the pit-bull of failure snapping at your heels
so you run and run and run
until you get mad with the fear and kick it square up the bum
finding that the pit-bull was just a poodle in disguise
as it yelps away with it’s tail between it’s legs
(yelp yelp yelp yelp yelp yelp)
Resolve fills your soul as you decide to follow the American dream and to hell with the black bitch of fate
so you score yourself a saw-off pump action shotgun
and rob and rape and pillage
and blow every muthafucka scum sucker away who ever fucked with you
And when you end up on death row
and as they squeeze the triggers to take away your life
your mind hears one last tune sung by the legendary ol’ blues himself...Take it away
Mr Frank Sinatra...
...(What is a man?
What has he got?
If not himself, then not a lot
Let the record show, yeh let the record show
I took the blows, yeh I took the blows, but, I did it my way).
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MOEMOEA MOHOAWHENUA
MOEMOEA MOHOAWHENUA
