I
need my
cheeky rogues
to show the way,
prophets of pleasure
to hell with convention,
their whims run wild; no
looking before leaping but
laughing as life is lived and
eloquently cried over
 shameless,
blameless,
Hone tells me

“Grown men can jump in puddles too, so take out the should
not’s with the meat, swallow the why not’s have some heat, man,
it’s only you that stops you from being you and no one else but you”

Mediocrity
under lock and key?
tucked in shirt                       dared not flirt
trapped and snared                                          hoped  nor cared
half a man                 half a life?
not on your Hone!
Full on, tane!
Tuwhare!

Steve Lang
August 2008