Harvest Home

Trails of midnight, Christmas tree lights,Sold out on a dream when life was young.I can hear those church bells ringing through those Suffolk fellsI can here them so loud now!Where we walked together with high endeavourMystery skies where the crows dine in the flights of dayWhere that old Shanda juggled the starsCross the plains onto …

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Nail pierced hands

Laughing Time

Time, that makes these earth born dreams seem like eternities rainbow. Over the horizon, dancing platitudes and exhausted hope, words exhaled from meaningless heartbeats. “Go this way” shouts the boss-eyed Counsellor Freudian junkie with a speech impediment. “If only this fear would you leave me!” He has 100,000 thoughts in the chaos of kaleidoscope chance. …

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A time out of mind

On a hilltop, the Suffolk laborer works the harvest without a question why?The rich man’s children walk over the unmarked graves of plague families. A storybook picture on a pure unadulterated English landscape, I am just believing, I am the picture. “Stuff that dreams are made on”, flesh built on bones of sin with no …

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