He came to me

in a storm

this young boy

So beautious and bold

He unravelled

the layers

I created

Undid the bows

as he was sold…

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A Poem for Jamie

We are women

We are strong

We are survivors

Like Warrior Goddesses

we carry our shields

and wield our swords

No-one can penetrate us

We are soul sisters

We are together

We are true blood

Like mythic mermaids

we shake our tails

and lure our sailors

No-one can break us

We are soul sisters

We are forever friends

We are real blood….

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A Postcard from the edge

I sent you a message today

from the inside of my heart

I hope you could read it

cos it came from the edge

Like a postcard

not posted

not printed

nor said

It came from my heart

so simply

it read….

I miss you

I love you

I wish you were here

No-one can replace you

in my thoughts

you are near !!




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Jack’s Hit

I sleep in the lounge/kitchen
because the bedroom is storeroom for paintings,
frames partitioning emptiness, and
primed surfaces waiting spectral scratches of art.

Forty years upright, unused
of it dual purpose, my bed is a fold out couch.
It stays open in the lounge, incompletely flat.

It is like sleeping on an open book
in the Giant’s castle, Jack, falling asleep
reading histories not found in the libraries.

The storm hits the south wall, grounding
earthy and real. Good anything thrills, pulls
from lethargy; and the beans lie flat in the gale.
A howling Antarctic resume´.

When Beauty appears in the Peasantry
or Genius walks among the Palestinians
don’t run to your king or president
with your clever Bean, you will lose them.

There are those who reach out and take
what they want, and those who wait
do triage. They are the ministers.
Added after; they administer;
they manage in a role which ages men,
they are the Man Agers.

Neither on the farm nor in the wilds,
random, like a stray dog, well bred,
but bored, I ran off, happy till it rained
and no one let me in.
Either in the forest or the field
I wonder of resistance, wonder of the log,
cut into a cord, delivered to your lawn,
but mostly of the flame, where it is, before
the match is struck. And the storm
and the acetylene
managed into atmospheres.

I’m going to say it
is how you consider your greens
in your garden do they consider Theirs
the population.

And Why Is It That
Roun Dup™
Is In the Legume,

Proper? For what
they Giants’ got
w/out us

refer to Title.



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13th floor elevator

…she’s there – in some form,


up on the high deck of a bus I never saw

til now the Redness how intense the flavour


of it is,


gardens! weave

between the jasmine and the flower;


shade, white shadow waive wave

air-thin nothingness, the spider


strings of Shostakovich –


climb my walls!

course the cracks of heavenly ceilings,


I’m in!                                   too  s-low …


to get the door.



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Up The Valley

You do not see the cold in the clear typed print,

Hear its crack underfoot or see the flared nostrils of sheep frozen to the ground.

It is there in a neat slip: wages, for month, seven pound a week and found in cottage.

A photo, too: a thin man with a stick and a dog with his chin pressed to the ground.

Up the gorge – deep, where the valley rises to trap the still air.

Where the hill folds over to stop the sun and the pasture scant.

Where hooves make the ground ring and a whistle floats in the air.

Where a stream too fast for standing cuts through the earth.

How odd, now, that a little photo and a pay slip disclose

The reason for the bent back and hands that would not close;

Why, even later, he could not go back.

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Nervum Tibulum

Diabolical twitch

in the darkness;

singer in the light.


I’ve come to


winking at the fly,

its odd caress

and back of a turbulent sea;


and whistling

over wings

of a wet gnat.


At day

I load my beanbag

with the cat


and another three yak


of what they

kiss and kill

at their backs.


At night

I shake the moon

as I fit fit fit


and FALL,

like death over lark.




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Nocturnal Tenants


Nocturnal tenants,
Discovery without facts,


All roads lead to Rome. Nocturnal tenants inhabit the glass ceilings underneath we follow the paths mapped for us at birth. Sometimes discovery without facts, our lives manifest it’s direction it takes us on. Go forth, go ahead, never look back.

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Our Night With Santa

It was the night before christmas there was a funny sound there was santa stuck in the chimney and couldn’t get down. He wiggled and jiggled but he wouldn’t come lose so we tied him to the reindeer and tried to bust him loose, the sound of the panic the sound of the shame, poor old santa I don’t think he will be the same.

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If Hope Was The Sky

What is hope? When it is gone there can be none. Where there can be none then there is no existence.
If it were like the sky things would fly by, as this sets the feeling in change as we do with in.
As sure as the sky will show day and night, hope will come and go but what it breeds we do not know.
When the sky turns grey will it rain? It may, but if one looks out the window what may look bad may still fade away.
When it rains it may pours but it will only last as long as it does no more. Eventually the clouds break and the sun shines out, revealing more not doubt.
Storms they come and go, some have been struck in that turbulent time. Is that the end? No the sky will still change and move without a doubt, it will blow away and eventually die out.
So if you are having trouble and pain what do see when you look up, even in the night sky there are stars that flicker real bright as it is the light with in the dark.
When the sun is out it is shiny and bright as it lights and warms and bring life to our soul. The sky is also blue it can make you feel calm hope is there it will never go while it is blue you never know.
There are so many things you cannot see but believe me it changes you must see, It is not forever but the sky will always be free to see.
When the wind blows it can change the land and just with it you may have to plan because what comes next you will never know, it’s a journey of life there is always more things and stuff will come and go but hope and the sky will always remain forever.

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The king of Despair

The night is closing in and the storm rumbles within, who is he don’t let him in he is the king of despair.

Your heart wants to scream and shout but still no sound comes out, who is he don’t let him in he is the king of despair.

As you sit there boxed within the glimmer of hope dwindles very thin, who is he don’t let him in he is the king of despair.

You sit there broken in sin, he twists those knifes deeper within, who is he don’t let him in he is the king of despair.

Within your life he will try to gain, to make his throne room and you insane, who is he don’t let him in he is the king of despair.

Bitter and twisted he watches you grieve, while he splits the shadows and plots and weaves, who is he don’t let him in he is the king of despair.

While he sits there with his crown over his horns, to come over you to block out your light just like a cave to see those who morns. Who is he don’t let him in he is the king of despair.

Your mood that blacks out the night, you make him more powerful and his goal in sight, who is he don’t let him in he is the king of despair.

As hurt and damaged as you are, the only thing you can see is your scares, who is he don’t let him in he is the king of despair.

You don’t have to answer his door, you can make him beg on the floor, take the power back and you will see him begin to roar. The light is stronger than darkness and very much more, he will crawl back to the shadow and you will see him no more. As the birds whistle and tweet, you realize how blinded you were but no more because now you are on your feet. Who was he? He was nothing but sin twisted and contorted and battered you within, but now he is nothing but was the king of despair.

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A True Lady

Your eyes are like rainbows reflecting the colour hue, that turns to pools of deep wells that the most resistant would be hypnotized.

Your zest for life is empowering giving the will to succeed and be the best of what one can be, with a magnetism of a pull so great that brings a world of encouragement.

Your hair that glows in the sun, It brings the presence of radiance of unmatched beauty to form it’s halo, showing the form of grace and elegance.

Your heart as it flutters and beats to a beautiful symphony that echoes within, the purity that ensnares the love like a beacon that is both taking and giving.

Your face that is like a full work of art carved with masterful hand that chisels into the greatest of detail, with the warmth and smile of an angel.

Your personality blooming like a flower in spring, with the feel of a butterfly in flight slowly gliding as the air cushions and comforts the flight.

This is what I see of the most worthy lady of my life

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