A Poem for the Dreamers
Come to me, let’s have a dance or an evening stroll around the block… Continue »
God’s Waiting Room
The Rochester Castle in Stoke Newington was no castle, believe me, it was more like God’s waiting room. Apparitional husks doused in liquor, wailing from bar to bar, trying to resolve their afflictions. It stunk to high heaven. I was surprised that they didn’t use sawdust to mop up the piss and beer, but it was the agreed destination to meet the skinhead scribe, Tim Wells. Continue »
Thieves, Bandits, Magicians
Thieves, bandits, magicians, meet in the morning dew tomorrow… Continue »
Ihan yksin
I lost the Me, sank into my own thoughts not remembering my value. Continue »
Hardwired.
Hardwired. Hardwired to miss the train of thought that every day is to repeat. Hardwired to the thought every day … Continue »
