Smelling salts

Saturdaythink I’ll lay here for a while to ‘gather myself’ oh god! ‘gather myself?’ where did that come from? Grandma used to say that, but she was ancient,a Victorian Lancastrian. I can’t be her age alreadythat wouldn’t be cricketand not British either, Keeping a stiff upper lipkeeping the rest of things private…

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Granpa grump

Such a long time ago‘Pomp and Circumstance’on the radio,actually it wasonlyfive minutes agobut it does seemlike years agoandwhat do we have today?wailing wannabe’sscreaming out theirmiseriesandold groups from the sixties I’m gong fishin’…

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Knitting notches

These rattling bones like the Rolling Stones, are too old too but young enough to.. Tuesday Weld and who remembers her? one of my favourites along with Cher and Danny La Rue, but who remembers him? I’m just twiddling my thumbs until the all-clear comes…

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Mood swings

It’s the seasonal adjustment the must have in the window the want because it’s Autumn and the need before the shops close. I am frightened of the shadows flitting past the evening door and the ladies of the darkness who want and then want some more and I have nothing left to give them. November’s…

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Growing into drowning

Thoughts becoming actions turn into deeds, one reads of such things, the words that take wings to fly beyond the supposed boundary of the ‘who and what am I?’ and what if I am the distant descendant of some Neanderthal man? did he not love too? then who I am is where I am and and…

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The writing

a prelude to a performance. We’re all seeking something and generally speaking I find it in the written word, the adjective the verb the way the lines all line up perfectly (or mostly) beads of sweat, beget trains of thought I’ve often thought but thinking never got things done I take a hiatus and with…

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