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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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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May Madness

Insatiable desires,
Where many a soul have drowned,
Charmed by the hunter’s fires,
As his beast, so tightly bound.
With scenes of the grey in life,
The disillusioned riot,
The arbitrary is rife,
As they do feed the disquiet.
Lavender scents do stain,
Reminiscent of you,
With a sense that remains,
Long after you pass through.
Chance Encounters

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Sage’s Time


I watch images of my looking back,

My tired life of this and then of that,

Listening to my life’s own soundtrack,

Awaiting a song, ne’er to arrive at.


I do find myself naked and ashamed,

Seized by the world’s ceaseless brutality,

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April Madness I

The Deanery

Your breath of stale tobacco,

And mine of a sour red wine,

My floor show of cheap Bordeaux,

And yours of old man’s decline.


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31/09/2012 – Time

Time. I am forever checking my watch. The need to constantly know the time is insatiable. I am unaware of what I am waiting for, or what I miss with my eyes on the watch face. One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, I could continue in this vain forever, and, in the past, I have. Today perhaps I begin my time travel backwards to a simpler time. Back to basics. Only I always fear I could turn my pilgrimage to the bookshop to buy a book into a philosophical journey of self-discovery. What am I expecting back at the starting line? Will one author’s literary journey and transformation somehow mirror myself? The author who turned a passion for reading into a fiery inferno, And even now, I am frightened to turn the pages.

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