all will be well

cross my fingers hope to fly before my heart stops, and I wonder why some birds have wings but prefer to walk? nothing to say and yet you talk must be something in the water. If I catch the dawn before it can break would you take me to your heart or sit there in…

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Unlaced

The times this page soaked up my hurt turning blue with the tear stained ink and you just smiled, but it was never meant to be read as poetry you should have read it as our personal tragedy…

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The scenery shifters

When things are as they seem to be they seem not to be to me and that’s almost Shakespeare, but he isn’t here and so it’s not. I have a lot of time for dead poets they speak to me in words they have written in books that I borrow, words filled with love, with…

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Gargling with gargoyles

When I flip and skip a word or jumble lines that become the sum of what I do it doesn’t bother me it’s only my pretence at poetry and who cares anyway? Shakespeare? no dear he’s long gone along with Shelley, Keats and John Donne, I feel at times alone like the lines don’t want…

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Events

If you believe in the hype or really any type of sensationalism you’d believe pigs could fly and why I ask would they want to do that? You’d believe the earth was flat and join a society. Personally I’d lock you in solitary, Think. I do it at times, think. in case you were wondering…

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Loose leaf

Write some verse and call it poetry, an opportunity to see what your poetry can do. each confession a mission to rid me of pain, every line follows on, a reminder to remember again. So we write out the wrong if we can and become better men then we remember the pain once again and…

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Reasonable doubt

Presumptuous enough to think I’m the stuff that poets are made from and I go on in the belief that I am. where the dreams become rhymes and the rhymes become seams that stitch together the dreams he beams in delight that the thing comes out right. but I’m flying a flag for the hacks…

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Fixtures and mittens

It’s like there’s a couple of words running around in your head and you’re not sure if it’s a song that you heard or maybe something you’ve read and then the words in your head become flames on your tongue and you don’t care anymore because they’re your words and more and the more the flame…

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Loops

Statues never get the ‘flu or if they do I never knew a sculptor who could cast an alabaster sneeze…

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Excuses

This is not me and I typed that slowly,   poetry is not me it’s just poetry although some of you know that some of it is,…

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Buffalo bones

Alone, I write poetry and perform on my own honing my skills and if it kills me, let it. What use to me the audience? the polite applause is an inconvenience. I need the solitude to magnify the things that flit through my minds eye. But the readers feed me as I bleed into them…

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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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