Chest Intellectual Puffing by Ian Rand McKenzie

“Leaders” (Haiku)

Children with handshakes
Turning their people into
Pawns sent to slaughter

Giraffe Market

State and business sitting in a tree
C—O—L—L—U-D-I–N—G
First came the bull
Then came the ape
Then came the giraffe now there’s no escape!

Oliver Skies

Big blue skies
Fluffy white clouds

Waiting for rains
From dark grey shrouds

To feed the vines
For boozy good times

And feed the ditch
‘Cause droughts are a real damn bitch

Pleasant Things

Old white women
The few, the proud
Defending us all when
There’s a hateful crowd

O, the venerable old white women
They like pleasant things
Sold with old white man’s acumen
A painting, a potting, a poem to sing

They fill up the galleries and boards,
the gardens, the place of their choice
They fill all the platforms in hoards
To give the voiceless a voice

With old white man money, shrewdness, power
We herald in now, the old white woman’s hour
To defend the down-trodden and sour
The beaten, battered, those without dower

I, too, am a white woman
For I’m not the villain
How could that be?
I defend against such villainy!

So step aside, savage
Coloured, queer, crazy, the rest
You should know now that I know the best

No one wants to be
The big bad guy
Or to shed resplendency
From things that we buy

So instead of admit
We do evil shit
Ourselves, we’ll acquit
Say I’m complicit?
HAH! Nuh-uh, we’ll buy it

Because when I put my manicured feet
On the chaos of the street
I cannot compete
With reality of defeat

Helped the worst off
But I exhale in a huff
They shoot themselves in the foot
‘They deserve where they’re put’

That’s what I have to say
Because to my dismay
Lingering under my mental fray
My comforts made them this way

Those thoughts I can’t reconcile
To the idea I could I be so vile
So I ignore the trial of my amorality
And make pleasant things for inside a gallery

Ms. Harrington

Blessings to this home
Long may she roam
And all the paths to be shown
Blessings to the pixie queen
Long may she reign
And for all the songs that will be sang 
Blessings to the servant
Long may he lament
For all the lessons pursued fervent
Blessings to the pain
A privilege made mundane
And to how it drives us
And drives us insane
To a mind sane
To a world asleep.

Spot’y Bugatti

Barkin' with my Rottie
Got Spot'y in my Bugatti
and I'm feelin' kinda naughty
Why?
'Cause the diamonds in — my hands
Are from blood in — the sands
Way off out in — far lands
Shit.
But I don't give two fucks
My daddy gave me 'mil bucks
Call it skill, hard work, and some luck
Aw, shucks.
I'm just a humble man with some quirks
Had thieves surround me with dirks
Behind me, my shadow lurks
Not my fault!
Fuck your blood
Drain it more, make red mud
With all my money, I will do good.

Authentic Curse (Haiku)

Frozen like the stone
Blind to the throne, ebb and flow
Chaos, tidal roam

cold waters

shrouded by healing waters
corpses wailing in falters
a fountain of youth for thee
others lost fighting the sea
its cold touch soothes furious soul
those pacified, instead swallowed whole
float into a world minted new
rubble everywhere, soon few
in the days of children seldom birthed
soon madness once again unearthed
and in the fires borne fresh insanity
new bodies wait for calamity
the flood whispering death and serenity
fearing each breath toward inevitability
acceptance turns and locks
bound to un-pickable paradox

Thinking Corner

Thought myself into a corner
Bold and brazen synapse adorner
Logic tells me I gotta fix
Only answer? More mind tricks
A self-constructed illusion
For this skull-noodle diffusion
To find every reason
A lie for every season
Because no matter what I do
For all the facts I find true
To get out of position stationary
Find commotion that motivates me
Keep seeking, find what’s true
Neural pathways winding through
And they all lead me back to you