The camp fire tales

It’s true, nothing tells you more about the state of things to come than the closing of another door, your face begins to show the mechanisms that used to work so long ago, your hands have had that tremble that your father used to know and that was also long ago. Each door that closes…

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The copper plate

A propelling pencil that stencils my outline out on the front line, Info, in for one more time. Whisked briskly away by the thought of tomorrow today and there’s no minutes can say that they knew me, if I knew them, in an hour who’s to say it was me that slew them, die for…

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Another incident

Our silverware sold off to china our crockery already there Politicians that float down the Yangtse pay homage inTiananmen square. I drink my tea in a cup from Formosa but that name was sold long ago, I have asked about Bombay and Persia, and nobody seems to know. Things are changing so fast I wonder…

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Senses

Confined in her face there is the agelessness of grace. And entwined in her lips the heady scent of her perfume grips me…

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Thirty denier

There’s the moment as your eyelids flicker just before they open when the strands of last night’s dreams are trying hard to close the shoe box that they hide in during daylight hoping nobody will notice they’re alone. The steam continues rising from the coffee and the image of a lady in red wellingtons strolls…

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The dam

Children of the insane and we’re at it again Water’s short the day is long but they bottle it anyway, let people pay for it the poor can drink their own spit no mercy in this trade, the well paid and well-heeled don’t know how it feels to be thirsting for a drink, they all…

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All this and more, chapter twenty-four

I will ride the elevator later when my feet touch solid ground, I will travel to the outer stars to find that man exists beyond the frozen fringe or mists of Jupiter and Mars, Yes, later will be fine. Time to pack a book and build a dream, chapter twenty-two, asleep beside a placid stream…

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The papered garden

I was laying there wondering, watching diamonds float by, chandeliers in my eyes, candle wax on my skin and the heat from them all drifted out, lifted in. Gifted by evening to lay here alone honing my skills, by dodging candle wax spills. Every facet, a caveat encloses every diamond to hearts full of roses,…

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Silver particles

The negative will always turn, to burn the burn out of the burned in germ and the positive which gives a ride to the mental attitude on which I glide quite gracefully, returns to me. It alternates, this state of mind it changes things in which I find the energy which then combines with something,…

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Owls and pussycats

If you’re lost at sea with me, in a boat, afloat barely, naked with eyes that shimmer and shine, I will plot the course to the nearest desert isle and dress you with palm leaves just leaving a little for my imagination to get lost in…

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‘pop goes the weasel’

I was never about being perfect because that’s a trick I can’t do, perfect is when you’re size nine, but you fit in a size eight leather shoe and perfect only becomes so when you want it but don’t even know. So, near enough is good enough and that’s good enough for me, if I…

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Diamond shields and water pistols

You taught me to count and I counted the days, and the days mounted up and still I counted the days and I got old and tired and lost count of the days. I can start again, I can number the drops of rain that fall I can count them all, you taught me that…

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Park plaza

It’s good like this, alone, when I have kissed the day and the night comes in to spray me with its brand of spite. Tarnished might be the new black and the new black might be grey, and I have kissed each and every one, every day, like a prison term, a spell in jail…

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In the monastery

Going back through the archives, back through the tunnels of time over matter and memory, remember me? Is time a straight line? Is memory curved? Are the lines that I’ve swerved on and under observed in the order they were or are they randomly paced in the place where the archives reside? Who designs these…

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99% of all known germs begin with an idea

Like a spot that I keep picking or a wound that I keep licking I’ve got something kicking ’round in here, something’s buzzing in my brain like flies, it’s driving me insane, picking, kicking, sticking to the lining, I’m refining it, digging through the flies and shit, refining it. Filing it and in a bit…

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Songs to die for

‘knock knock knockin on……..’ No, Mr Dylan, you do not knock on Heavens door, you’re fired through millennia in seconds and find you’re on the other side, a mad ride on the slide to infinity where the two lines meet, that’s what you do. And after breaking a billion, trillion stars in the rushing of…

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Linkage

Themes running through me pulsing beats only I see, can you hear them? Is Zen audible? The vaudeville show starts at five, the theatre’s alive with the comics, the sidekicks and the stars of the show. If I go will you come? will you run through the night and flash into the sun with me?…

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Cupid’s dilemma

I have tried so many times to say, ‘I love you’, in fourteen lines, but failed more times than that. Words, do ease the pain and increase the joy of being able to employ another way to say, ‘I love you’, If I could send to you my heart shot through with arrows, you would…

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Heading to Grasmere

Up there, in the lakes where states of mind are refined and all it takes is some concentration, relaxation and the definition of peace is defined. Years have passed since I sat by the mere or Coniston water, thought I ought to go back and see what it all meant to me. Up there in…

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Minstrel and mistral

There is a choir and an orchestra and I talk less when I know they’re there, somewhere an accordion plays, a busker, me in other days would prefer to hear the street performer, the troubadour, the wanderer with his songs wrapped up and on his heart, trapped in the keys, he plays the accordion, at…

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