Tag: Slice-of-life

“Deadly De-Facto’s” (A Poem)

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by Anton MartinSmith antonmartinsmithwrites@gmail.com

They are not ‘chilling’ at all..

They are avoiding life itself.

By avoiding all chances of pain,

They also killed the oasis’ of creativity,

That the world delivers only haphazardly.

They murdered their ‘pals of camaraderie’ –

Most of who existed but were never summoned.

For how does a life become a-life-worthwhile?

Interestingly their pain simply compounded anyway.

At least the smarter ones involved at least knew to drink –

For if a fool’s errand doth live – then let it raise a glass to itself.

This article is owned by Martin Smith Creations ltd (NZ). If you are a person or a small non-profit please read or reproduce freely. Commercial Users or NGO’s: If you want to purchase for reprint of this work for a commercial project to reach a wider audience – then contact me via martinantonsmith@gmail.com to gain written legal permission.

“The Get Together – For Old time Sake” (A Poem)

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by Martin Anton Smith

Three old school friends met for some drinks.

In there old home town.

They were now in their mid-forties-

Time had flown.

And what was each of their high school persona’s?

One was an ex-nerd-kid.

One was an ex-Jock-kid.

One was the Ex-Music-kid.

Yes Siree -The Gang was back together again.

The Ex-Jock one had long bedded down a stable Military career –

Ironically, he had arrived with a broken arm.

He didn’t seem as big or towering as he used to be.

The Ex-Nerd one had had patches of brilliance post school, but did not really fit into the world,

& was now in the Trades working as a small contractor –

He now swung a deft sledgehammer rather than his Heavy Physics Text.

He had arrived in flannel, workman’s boots & an outback hat.

He was now bigger & stronger than the Ex-Jock-Kid.

The Ex-Music-kid one had had a stable but very circumscribed life.

He didn’t arrive for it was his house –

He simply stayed on his couch & never needed to get up at all.

He must have had, as they say ‘a cast-iron bladder’.

The Beers began to flow.

The Beers were the same brand as they had drunk in high school,

& they still tasted just a fowl.

There was a sports game in the background.

The Ex-jock & the Ex- nerd talked most.

The Ex-Music-Kid needs mostly silent – as usual.

As the shitty beers were peeled off in quick succession –

The conversation flowed like the dirty cheap beer they drank –

For most Males this is entirely ok & not at all upsetting.

– for it is the age-old-from-the-beginning-of-time game of ‘one-upmanship’.

The scrum metaphorically locked down, with the two locks being the Ex-Nerd-Kid & The Ex-Jock-kid.

The Ex-Jock-Kid doubled down on a variety empty military platitudes,

Making sure to never be pinned down on an issue.

While the Ex-nerd pressed him like a prosecuting lawyer, on various contentious matters:

Did The CIA kill JFK?

Did we go to the Moon?

Were the Hawaii Fires lit by the Real Estate Hungry Corporates?

Is The “Five Eyes Security System” a trojan horse of a corrupted CIA?

Was Paul Keating right to question the Aussie Aukus Nuke Sub deal?

All the Ex-Nerds questions were flat-batted,

As if the Ex-Jock had done well on the stand, with no ‘Jack Nicholson’ moments.

No Doubt the Ex-Nerd felt The Ex-jock was being Evasive,

& Jilted that the sociological nature War & Society was being ignored.

No Doubt the Ex Jock felt he was being unduly harangued.

No Doubt the Ex-Music-Kid was soaking it all in,

Like a hidden spy device in a wall collecting relevant data.

And holding a wry internal smile.

In terms of “Life” the world system would adjedicate as follows.

“On Paper” the Jock should have been the most “happy”

& the other two the most sad.

But life isn’t written on Paper,

& I believe it was actually more like the reverse,

& in increasing contentedness fashion.

Could it be that the Two kids who were now “on paper failures”

Had found contentment due to organised society rejecting them?

The World had rejected them & in so Truth had risen forward into their hearts,

Just as surely as a giant boulder rides the enormous moving glacier – it has no choice in the matter.

In a way life had been made easier for those two kids, first through rejection,

& secondly through accepting that rejection for what it was – a blessing.

meanwhile Like the rest of “The World” The Ex-Jock was cursed to wonder –

Why it was he had all these things yet he still wasn’t really happy or wise.

But I am not surprised – for I understand The World for what it is.

Oh, what a terrible curse it is to never have been rejected by The World.

To lack such rejection is such a terrible way to die.

For such punishment is a very living death indeed.

& History shows that it is only so exquisitely rarely,

That this very ancient malady ever be ‘earthly undone’.

Will it be?

Will the meaning of ‘True Contentedness on Earth’ ever be discovered by the masses?

Will they ever see through the hordes of Propaganda expertly dished out?

Meanwhile The ‘get together’ ended & they all went their separate ways,

Some of course more separate than others as The Ex-Jock-Kid lived out of town.

Will the Ex-Jock-Kid hold a grudge against the Ex-Nerd-Kids spirited questioning?

Or will he be thinking “wow that was an awesome night out”?

I suspect that all depends his wife’s analysis from his tales of the night’s story.

Which without fail means that “The Nerd” will be “The Jerk”……

After all, ‘Wives & Girlfriends’ never like to ‘engage the enemy’….

Unless their toilet needs to be unblocked.

Oh & one more thing…Needless to say – The Ex-Music-Kid had a great night…

For he was simply the ‘fly on the wall’ observing the madcap entertainment –

With plenty drinks on hand.

“….Take Us to Your Cat Leaders..” (A Poem)

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by Martin Anton Smith

My cat adopted me as a hungry abandoned kitten.

Initially I watched him through the glass on the front yard.

He would trap spiders on the lawn with his paw & then eat them.

I did not want a Cat so I squashed feelings of empathy.

For those first two weeks I would not feed him & chase him off my lawn.

On the third week I had put out some bread for the birds.

Then I saw him eating the bread himself.

It was then I realised that for a Cat to start eating bread,

things must be pretty direly bad.

I then knew I had better listen to that conscience of mine talking away –

The voice that was saying – “why don’t you take that poor hungry cat under your wing?”

SoI agreed & went to the fridge & got some juicy-red, rib-eye steak.

I cut it into cat-bite sized portions.

I took it out to him & put it down on the concrete patio.

Of course, this poor little cat wolfed it down greedily & voraciously.

Fast forward 5 years & he has become a healthy but spoilt cat,

Who gets fed 5 times a day & even has his own adult sized couch.

Interestingly the other week a 3-legged stray Cat turned up on my roof.

This Cat who I have named ‘Hop-ee’ looks down at us with bedraggled eyes,

My cat – named Squeeky due to his vocalisations – simply growls at him from below –

keeping a firm eye on him, but never climbing up & attacking or chasing him away.

I think Squeeky is letting him know he will allow him to visit a little,

But he better not leave his designated minor territory,

That has been allocated to visiting & so by definition, second-class-cat-citizens.

This tells me that perhaps Squeeky’s benevolent behaviour,

Is evidence that cats can remember their difficult ‘childhoods’,

& also show a certian empathy to another Cat who has suffered similarly,

But they are also wise enough to not give away equal status or sovereignty.

The lesser status interloping Cat is wise enough to ‘know their place’,

& be greatful for whatever is given to them.

Then I made the silly mistake of feeding ‘Hop-ee’ some of Squeeky’s biscuits.

I guess I certainly violated the accepted “Third-Party Peace Broker Protocols”,

By negotiating peace/treaty terms clandestinely without his knowledge.

When Squeeky saw Hoppee chowing down on his own vittles,

He meowed or more correctly – caterwailed protratedly & with acute jealousy.

Then followed it up with a swift swipe against my bare legs – drawing some minor blood.

It’s like he was saying, it his Cat-like-way

“Martin – my charity only goes so far with Hop-ee,

& it certainly does not extend to the sharing of my food, especially without my permission”.

I of course apologised profusely, As all 3rd Party Peace Negotiators in-the-wrong should.

However, a few weeks on, I can report that the trick is now on Squeeky –

As if I hatched a plan to feed both of them at the same time with Hopee on the roof

& Squeeky out-of-sight in the back yard.

Thus Squeeky is would be happily none-the-wiser to Hop-ee’s ‘biscuity roofy gulpings’.

Of-course in reality this orchestrated ‘cat-cold-war-detente-plan’ is imperfect given Hop-ee is a slow eater,

& Squeeky – a fast eater.

However it is a good enough work-in- progress-somewhat-workable-peace-treaty.

I can confirm that I have not been re-attacked & Squeeky’s jealousy filled growls are reducing.

And Hopee’s face is now much happier, his eyes brighter.

This story simply proves that animals can avoid & de-escalate war & manage peace talks via 3rd parties –

far far better & with less fuss than Humans through History have ever been able to.

I am sure when the Aliens finally visit earth they will say:

“Take us to your Cat – Leaders….but please don’t feed us their biscuits“

“That Is Not Fish-Food Lady” (A Poem)

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by Martin Anton Smith

It was a hot day & so I went for a river swim.

After I was sitting on the rocks of the swimming hole.

Drying out & re acclimatising to the air-only-world, – as you do.

While doing this of course, you watch the other folk in a content daze.

There was a large lady swimming with her pug nose dog & her mum & dad were on the riverside.

The dog was half submerged & having a whale of a time.

So much so it hung a giant log in the river shallows –

Right where people swim.

The lady said “dad don’t worry it’s fish food”.

I don’t know about you – but I’m quite pretty, pretty, sure…

That that is not fish-food lady!!!

At least they scooped up half of it in a little black plastic bag.

I guess dog owners will tell themselves anything –

To exonerate their often very annoyingly behaved pooches

I guess they are in simple cognitive dissonance,

Because disciplining their pooches would require effort & maybe even cash.

It’s easier & cheaper for them to pretend the dog is an angel.

It’s probably very wise to not to date or marry a dog owner.

Unless of course it’s a Labrador –

They are like the ‘Gentlemen’ of the Dog World.

They surely would almost never take a giant shit in a popular swimming hole.

Saint Joe The Neuro-Typical (A Poem + Features on Ep 44 of Podcast).

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by Martin Anton Smith martinantonsmith@gmail.com @mrschmitzo

Joe The Neuro-Typical He/Got Caught Up In A Drag

Young Man He Lost His Life/In A Lounge -Room War, Yes

Wrote A Check…Got a wife /Got A Job’N’Mortgage…

Yes-Dear-No-Dear/Now Can I Have A Beer?

No Sir, Bad Deal/Now Where’s my Weekends?

Excuse Me Mr! / Why Would He Sign Up To That?

Pardon Me Maaam! /Why Would You Sign Up To That?

No Man Nooo! /There’s No Way I’d Sign Up To That

Joe Neuro-Typical/Got Himself Some Kids…

Now He’s Done &Done/ His Life Has Hit The Skids

His Wifes had Seven /& She Wants Seven More

Yes Dear No Dear/Can I Ring A Friend Dear?

No Sir, Bad Deal/Where’s My Motorbike?

Excuse Me Mr! / Why Would He Sign Up To That?

Pardon Me Maaam! /Why Would You Sign Up To That?

No Man Nooo! /There’s No Way I’d Sign Up To That

Yeah Joe The Neuro-Typical , His Kids – Have All Left Home

Now He’s Ninety-Five /All His Times-a-Gone-Burger

He Had Plans To Play Guitar/But he Can’t Move His FingerHands

Yes Dear, No Dear/ What-d’-ya-want a Foot Massage?

No Sir, Bad Deal/ Where’s My Little Row Boat?

Excuse Me Mr! / Why Would He Sign Up To That?

Pardon Me Maaam! /Why Would You Sign Up To That?

No Man Nooo! /There’s No Way I’d Sign Up To That

Joe Neuro-Typical/ He’s Strung Out On-His Death Bed

Now He’s Ninety-Nine/ & Yes, His Minds Full Of Regret

Why’d He Give His Life? – For All That Hard Selfless Work?

He Coulda Said No/ Yeah Rode himself Into-The-Wind

Yes Sir, Good Deal/ But I Ask Will-He-Be-Re-Born?

Excuse Me Mr! / Why Would He Sign Up To That?

Pardon Me Maaam! /Why Would You Sign Up To That?

No Man Nooo! /There’s No Way I’d Sign Up To That