Memoir of a President

It was those nights,

driving down the track

in the back of a pick-up,

blatting at eyes in the bush

with an AK-47, high on weed

and whiskey.

Those nights back at the camp,

dub dancing to boosted speakers,

world poured through bamboo walls,

edge of the sky licked by fire,

women coming and going

            at the water hole.

One of those nights my voice broke,

I carved the cause in my flesh,

took a women from her work,

killed a man looking into his eyes,

laughed as he slumped with a whimper

not a cry.

It was on those nights of thunder and hope,

bullets skidding in mud, truck bed bouncing

over ruts, wet leaves slapping my face,

not these plush mahogany nights

of policy, compromise and utility,

that I felt free.

Prize Draw

We are delighted to announce

you have won nothing.

This wasn’t a competition,

the things you gained

were there for you to

stumble over.

The things you have lost

were taken because you

left them lying around,

the things you didn’t find

were there but you looked

in the wrong place.

The things you thought

you deserved but didn’t get

were on different paths;

your journey became easier

when you understood this

and gave them up.

In taking the liberty

of entering you in this prize draw,

we would like to state that

we are not liable for disappointment,

resentment, jealousy or any other

unreasonable expectation related

complaints.