Close

I glance at a newspaper

– three quarters advertising

one quarter articles –

high school house music makes the front page.

A five dollar local magazine

delivers conservative views

of crusty mouths

and strand-by-strand comb-overs

as the region’s best gossip.

 

Loosening their blazers,

tightening their crow’s feet,

some are ‘concerned’ about the brain drain.

Who could be blamed

for disappearing themselves?

 

There’s a strange sense of self importance in sadness

letting time roll past

sinking

in blankets

and lassitude

Though fulfillment
seems beyond the

tick

tick

tick

 

 

tick

 

decelerating through being

 

My iPod squares my eyes,

a hand-held doorway into electric metropolises

attracting

 and far away

from this leaky tap I live in.

hand-held metropolis


By Justin A.

View more poems from Karamu High School, NZ, 2013