The 2035 New Zealand Poet Laureate writes on the occasion of the election of the Tenth Term of the National Government

Let’s make sure this remains a morbid fantasy not a fact. Vote on 23 September. – VB

Fellow citizens,
we celebrate today The Surplus.
From all levels of the Survival Dome,
we gather in solemn appreciation
in a National Minibreak of Gratitude.
Could all digital devices
and personal teleportation equipment
be turned to apocalypse mode.
Decision making has been handed over
to an AI called Craigsy
who freelances as a virtual panelist
on a gladiatorial sports chat show.
Today his message to the nation
will be delivered by a cloned avatar
of Paula Bennett via hologram
from the inspiring venue
of the Sky City casino, rising above
Wellesley Lagoon as a symbol
of our freedom of choice.
Maintenance staff imported
on casual short term contracts
from the refugee fleets of the Pacific
are on standby in case of extreme weather.
A special shoutout to our peeps in the
Autonomous Economic Zone of Lactopia
(formerly known as the South Island,
and now under the joint administration
of the Chinese People’s Liberation Army
and Paypal.)
We celebrate how the perfection
of reverse ageing therapy
means the eternal rule of baby boomers
who have reclaimed their golden youth
in the legendary fountain of capital gains.
We celebrate the wonders
of fiscal stability and incremental progress,
of genetically enhanced cows expressing
coconut milk for the export market,
of beggars on Queen Street
collecting likes on social media,
of a twelve lane gigahighway
terminating on the cliffs 
of Cape Reinga.
The last Kiwi floats sedated
in a see through vat of nutrient soup
in the foyer of Te Papa,
the tourist dollar has become
the Revelations renminbi
and style conscious survivalists
tote Prada bags through the
priority billionaire queue at
Tauranga International Hoverport.
We take comfort that if our last stand
here on Planet Earth is in vain,
the future of humanity is secured
above us in the orbiting space cruiser Sir Max Key
with its precious cargo of retired Cabinet Ministers.

Outside, in the dead lands,
those who have made poor choices
reflect on their lack of aspiration
and shelter from the scorching sand storms
of our final years.


Covfefe – a poem


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Meta Mnemonics help him recollect his nuclear codes
jammed in somewhere behind his twitching frontal lobes.

His fish eye lens compulsively filming the inside of the zoo
as he dials the Kremlin hotline to ask what should I do?

A pumped up alpha politico steaming with roid rage,
his fingers tap compulsively before his mind’s engaged.

A meme war erupts between the two sides of the brain
in this planet of the apes anomaly that they forgot to train.

With Bannon as his vector infecting the current state of play,
a unreality TV imposter hamming in this sick masquerade.

He flushes another tweet down his all nite data feed
but his fat digits just keep squashing all the wrong keys.

Refugee resettlement in New Zealand

The news that a refugee resettlement centre will be established in Dunedin is good news.
We can play a modest role in bringing hope to a small number of innocent people caught in the terrifying human tragedy we see unfolding before us on the news.

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Advice to mum and dad investors

I was impressed and excited to read a local finance broker’s advice to potential “mum and dad” investors in privatized public assets in the Otago Daily Times (Friday 6 July 2012).

Mr Chris Timms of Craigs Investment Partners says any complaints about ordinary Kiwis not being able to get in on the sale of the 21st century are misplaced.

It comes down to lifestyle choices and priorities.

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