When the steely strings gets picke… the dark desert highway is life pa… I’m sure not bound for Californ-i… no doubt, no turnpike –cool breeze… This place we call life is the shi…

more paradoxical foolery..... I have enjoyed my senses for more… two eyes, a tongue, two hands - a… but I can’t see the noumenon you s… all I see is lots of stuff I make…

The ancient seers knew the score in granite etched on Dolmen door with Spiral glyph and centred dot, such subtle pictographic plot. Tho’ cyclic emanations flow

As a company of poets, I trust upon your empathy. This lyric passion that we share has led me to epiphany. Of worldly craft I am bereft,

1978 - Boarding school - The day… Grey flannel blazer, grey stone wa… Under a cold grey sky. Grey skinned strangers speaking gr… Long bleak and lonely,

Our fodder, which art in Devon Mallow be thy name When springtime come thou will be yum, from earth, green leaves are heave…

One land - many maps each map - many roads every road - two directions

A bigot blind will never see, we are all as John Donne’s flea since Adam claimed mortality, who knows what hues in history flowed in darker veins than thee,

based on a West African folklore… Alone along a jungle track I heard a groan of agony, so terror-struck, with bow drawn b… I peered behind the mango tree.

I’m want to take the common straw lay strewn across the bar-room flo… ~ discarded, used to curse and sho… I’ll card it ~ scrape the thistles… Feed my loom run at a canter

Conjugal Congress, Conception Conjoined ~ Constriction Contraction Contusio… Constructs Conferred, Conclusions Contrived ~

Late inside The Orange Tree, a burly builder on his knees. Well earned pint now cast asunder, he sought respect - his only blund… -

In that term, as I remember, I first built my delusion. From September to December, Was childhood’s conclusion. Back at home for Christmas,

When I at last shall die, what th… the meaning in this world of men - the flux that formed before my wak… when from that tranquil harbour fo… to pass again thru’ terra’s fiery…

No gun in my face, No plague or famine or drought. Then what irony, This pampered life of luxury, Should bring about such agony,