-
No pill required,
no regime of a treadmill rat,
-
Now that I’m nearly old, when I lie on my back,
-
Subtraction, addition, bought ledger, add costs, Lost invoice, purchase material, make profit,
-
Minor, lesser, in importance, br
-
-
Parchment sewn pages,
her life story
-
Crestfallen, deserted, life sucking decay
As the seasons deal their worst,
-
Tread warily my man,
step not upon others toes,
-
It started like many others,
just an ordinary day,
-
Around the table they sat,
Perrier bottles with brand new screw caps,
-
Hurrah, cease fire,
Shove the gun under the bed,
-
Ah summer,
Monsoon, droughts, icy cold gales,
-
Can I be a writer when there are no words?
An unwritten writer, whose words are mere thoughts,
-
Grand in its solemnity,
City of the dead,
-
All snuggled in down,
She lay warm,
-
Come hither, come hither,
The beer is so fine,
-
“Tell me my man if you please,
don’t dither, procrastinate, nor tease,
-
The Archbishop of Westminster did whine,
This church is so cold all the time,
-
Of the many men, born of this Land,
I happen to think
-
Opening, the door,
rusted at the hinge,
-
Christmas time, festivity and good cheer,
‘Oh bollocks, not socks again’
-
Autumn sunlight closes her door,
Winter creeps in,
-
Oh muse where are you?
Have you finally died?
-
Dwindling men,
march with comrades in
-
A chink of opinions,
tiny anomaly of views,
-
Leaves rustle underfoot,
The crunch of stone
-
Poor piggy must be smashed,
He’s no longer PC,
-
Darkness descends,
That tunnel grows light,
-
Court is now in session,
Judge John Deed now presides,
-
Surely it’s a lack of vitamins,
perhaps even light,
-
She sits,
hands firmly locked between polyester clad knees,
-
-
In days before yore, lived a carpenters son,
Life then in Nazareth, was still boring, no fun,
-
Waugh I a Wavian I’d not break the mould,
For Wavians have children,
-
Majestic view, sea of Sodom’s brine,
Herodian palace,
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