A Little Poem to the Tempted
After the attraction when you have fulfillled all desire there is nothing left in this world to do but to hopelessly expire
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After the attraction when you have fulfillled all desire there is nothing left in this world to do but to hopelessly expire
A Little Poem to the Tempted Read More »
Roads, the vast confused winding, lone walkers searching for something they can’t find. Some go on to the end, their end, but the road has no end. The man in front of me must know something? Is it like accepting something against his will? No exclamation of annoyance is heard by the silent seeker, roaring
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Cunningham Herbaceous lived in a vegetable marrow, Cunningham Herbaceous wished to die in Turnip. In the land of Vistapoolantidote there existed a vigilante group called the Gastric manipulators much famed for their song; ‘Always look on the bowel side of life.’ Cunning Herbaceous had hitched a lift with them from the, ‘Welcomebreak’ services on the
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I mourn for you in May, when the tide of that sweet day, kissed our feet on the sands of youth’s romance. The long hours of shining sunsets, to ice cold moons, our ever-magic tunes, that danced to the jingle jangle tambourine, of Dylan’s troubadours, with the speed of the wind. Oh such a wind
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He came soaking wet one winter night, all his yesterdays writ well on his face, a miracle of wounds, the lady gave him a ‘go away’ look and threw some coins in the snow, he couldn’t reach down to pick them up, he turned away into the night. He stared half wondering at the sullen
No hat for the stranger Read More »
England 2015 Dark windows on the world, dark faces in the gloom of 12 by 11 foot rooms, The space between silence and human contact a step away, never taken. The person in the flat above scrapes a chair on the floor; I hear it coming through my ceiling. The aching lonely hours, memories in
How deep is your love? Read More »