Internal affairs

every time you acquiesce against your will, they think a little less of you. I write this on their toilet walls, ‘Anon was here’ because Anon can be anyone and everyone who is Anon is someone we know. perhaps that’s by ‘Anon’…

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Just hot

    We rant and rave from birth to the grave, where does that get us?   Poets, poetry a sect or subversive society? but they’ve never lied to me, only satisfied a need in me.   How many needs must a man feed before he is full?…

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Brexit

Another deadline headline it’s about time they sorted it out…

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Crax in the ceiling

Nobody’s sure anymore about what we felt sure of before we weren’t sure and I am not sure anyway. But we built our houses from straw spit and sawdusted the floor what were we waiting for? absolution? absolutely? well Pan played the pipes like a flute he was a ram of a man, are you…

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Almost midnight

The poets like friends that I knew were just passing through, and the night tasted stranger as the words that flicked fingers like flames on my cheeks disappeared on the page. The danger was in the remaining in draining the last drop, but I found I could not stop and the cup of bitterness tasted…

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This is poetry?

Traffic light red means I stay idling in bed, means the thoughts in my head sleep on.. I am a fridge…

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