The winds blow

The fact iswe are all heading that waytowards the one dayand one daywe’ll all get there and those you lose along the wayyou’ll find them againin the one daywhen you get there…

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The time may be right

everything passes in the blindnessof nightand the days find yousometimes with blood in your eyesand sometimes with sleep, keep watch on the clockbut never trust it. We all disappear into the hereafterthis minute is gone from us,will time remember us? If what is out thereis really within,there is nothing toworry about…

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Life, edit #27

A series ofdays after daysweeks after weeksand year inyear out, there are breakssome commercialothers psychologicalallleading up to thegrand finale, and we all have apart to playin the script. roll credits…

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Samson

It takes exceptional courageto carry that emotional baggageor perhaps it’s just bondagewho knows? It’s hard enough to carry yourselfwithout the added weight of thestate you get into. and perhaps it’s only laterwhen you realisethe weight of the worldis not for your shouldersalone…

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By the gallon

There’s plenty of mileage in stupidand some stupid go all the way. Some think no contest’s a contestsome doodle on and some prayI’m on the road to redemptionandstupid’s not going my way…

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Fulcrum

Middaywhen the shadow of meseems to fade awayI praythat it will soon return…

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Above sea level

If I am failing,if that is what’s ailing methen I sit uncomfortablywith death at my side. In the ruins where I strayedwhere I playedI have stayed for too longandtime has abruptly erupted. It’s Sundayand I am practisingmy shiningjust in case‘Jesuswants me for a sunbeam’…

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We will all be prime-time for a timeand then we’ll be switched off. Life is likea programme on the TV setbut only when you geta signal. Series two isdeja-vubut you already knewdidn’t you? In fits and startssome old fartsmanage and make do,but I’m still in theprime-timehaving fun with you…

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This life

I suppose it’s just a state of mindsomewhat like Narnia or Lilliput,butyou can never beone hundred centsto the dollar,if you follow me…

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In the diary

When they dig up thetwenty-first centuryto relate, such as it was, the historythey’ll thinkit’s a blooming great mysterythat those people survived at all. and now,it’s a ‘..moral obligation..’ send our children to school,when education has nothingto do with it…

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What happened to Summer?

I’m awake and cannot see,it’s like beingburied alive in the dreams ofwhat used to beand I am not even sure of theseason or time,does the sun ever shine orhave I just forgotten? Redwoodhardwearing timberold andlike some us not aslimber as we were, the cracks appear to be widerand the nights draw in much earlier. but…

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Games to play with the cat

On top of the pyramidwhich is a bit likeon top of the worldthough not as high,but I ain’t James Cagneyso it doesn’t rattle me. Trump plans to banTikTokbut he can’t stop‘the constant clock’ we’re all getting therebeing thereor thinking about it,but right nowI’m thinkingof curry sauce and chips. Ginger thinks I’m a tad madbut he’s…

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Pieces

This is the nightmare that we try to wake from,the Halloween approaching midnight,the last supper before the last morningthis isthe empire of illusion don’t let them confuse youifthat’s what they’re aiming to do. this is not an old horror showor‘war of the worlds’narrated by Orson Welles,this is not radio, this is us being broken…

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The depth of clouds

The problem isyou still think it’ssomewhere over the rainbowand that one day we’ll enterinto ‘Harper Valley’butit’s not realthey’rejust words in a song. the ‘last train toClarksville’leftyears ago…

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The corporation killed Kenny

Someone has to go andwe all know who that’sgoing to be, poor Kennynever gets any love. South Park is a very darkplace and if your facedon’t fit, tough…

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Oh!

Jimmy Mac’s playingon the radioI’m reading Kerouacbut it’s going slowand I don’t know whatI’m doing up at thisunearthly hour. Anywaysleep is overratedwhen you’re sixty-fourand feel outdated I wonder if it’s truedowe all get old? noit’s probablynot…

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Zap

The feelingthat you want to go homeand the realisationthat you are at home. switch on the electric blanketor strap into the electric chairif it hit the spotI’d give one a shot, the feeling that you’re going nowhere…

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The Taiwanese tapes

.and then the instructions advised me to press play and record simultaneously. That old cassette deck was my best friend,I could ramble away to it and it didn’t complainone little bit. I Wore it out eventually,but it died a noble deathwith my wordson its last breath. they don’t make them like they used too…

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10 green bottles

losing your marbles, aged six istotally different from losing yourmarbles, aged sixty,trust meI know. things that make you cry and you think you’re going to die if they happen once again,things that make you wince with pain and things that make you laugh with joy, That box full of blue is the window you look…

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