a sea with no beginning

grey days

a bored world

scratches on the vinyl

fingers laced

if I could…

as though in love

(the only thing I liked

was the music)

a naked wind

the Sun dawns spectacular

with the subjugation of the day

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Two Thousand and Seventeen


 Starving street rats bicker o’er crumbs of bread,
In gutters flooded with a pestilence,
The promise of the morrow in the wind fled.

Listen as men of no consequence said,
As golden tongues lick in malevolence,
Starving street rats bicker o’er crumbs of bread.

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City of Trees


And if nimble fingers could penetrate the dappled canopy

I could touch light itself.

Or to even brush the fingers of giants,

tracing their palms with my fingers.

I feel an understanding, a knowing.

I too sway;

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Collection Released!


My first collection of poetry Uncorked Words: The First Bottle is available for purchase on

It will be available on Amazon shortly, in both paperback and ebook.

Thank you for your support. =) Xxx

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The First Encounter


Oblivious to the ochre sky-
Ensnared in dreams,
As a darker red stains the lips
with sips of yen,
The restrained sentiments,
So agonized in the percolation
of wavering eyes,
The heat of the setting sun
throbbing as the heart,
In time with the other;
At our first encounter.

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To A Miss

I, dancing in my own bitter disgrace,
Washed and hung out and my mind unaligned,
And with my memory I did erase.

Unable to maintain a fitful pace,
Body and soul so utterly resigned,
I, dancing in my own disgrace.

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End of Days


Under the old Moon,

Music descends

in temples of hysteria,

As their stones shatter,

The absence of blossoms

in the churchyard

marks their fate.

The grey and cloudy sky

and indistinct Sun,

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Ten Pills


One pill;
For my merciless and raging tempest.

Two pills;
For the voices acknowledged as my own.

Three pills;
For howling dogs stalking my promenade.

Four pills;
For forgetting what was to become of me.

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And I would have thought myself inspired,

For the beauty in the dancing leaves,

Flora’s rose perfume staining the clear air,

And the song of the birds, chorus on high,

In such a tongue I never understood,

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And I Opened My Eyes


And I opened my eyes,

A virgin sun did bleed,

On to sheets of pure white,

I blinked – and it did sleep.

And I opened my eyes,

A summer sun did dance,

Upon youthful pleasures,

I blinked – and colours spun.

[....]   Read More