Every night I ask the women at my local shop what has been happening I usually get same boring response from a middle class mind full of meandering mediocrity then I tell her she can lie to save us both the boring reply.

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The sloth is portrayed as the epitome of laziness but this little arboreal adaption turns out to be a perfect green dream a hairy little leaf eating machine that has a zero carbon footprint and could save the world all on its own we would do well to put a little of the sinful slow sloth back in our own fast food life styles in order to try and save our poor planet .

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The ghost in our mortal machine is like a spiritual symbiotic twin that collaborative companion that shares our secular sin so silently from within accompanying us from a womb to the tomb an then ultimately giving evidence at our final doom . software one day maybe so sensitive and bio hybridized to our DNA that it could just become our very own soul cage I almost feel as though my computer tech is reading my mind in some sort of strange tech telepathy they were recently saying that the cloned Polo horses which have identical DNA from their donor artificially computerized to perfection have all the exact instincts even down to being scared of the same things in the stable yard as the doners even though they have never seen any of the apperatus before daddies daja vue

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The strange phenomenon of dizygotic twin estrangement when nothing of similarity seems to have been shared apart from their indifference towards each other .

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A poem come prayer for a baby who died at birth and never got a chance of life If ever you've been close to someone who's lost a new born then you do feel if it were possible you would swap souls with them and give them a chance at life.

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A poem written for a crazy young woman who I fell hopelessly in love with during the summer of 1992 whilst working in the South of France aboard yachts in the port of Antibes . Together we stayed in a huge stone pile called the chateau Laval courtesy of Jack et Michelle Olga was a green-eyed goddess with olive skin and a temper that she'd borrowed from the dog cerberus , I was a dotting fool but hay to everyone who's ever suffered from the lightning strike of love at first sight or as the Italians call it "amoure a prima vista" or in the French" le coupé de foudre", all I can say is that like myself i hope that you've never recovered and never do because it's a beautiful feeling of being processed by the madness of passion.

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Blue September skies signals the end of Summer's lease the autumn equinox in one day changes everything tilting time and tugging tide , it's as though our seasons of life has suddenly died .

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Back in the sixties heavy industry was extremely hard work the way the men eased their brutal burden was with non-stop humourous quirk today its seen as a social deride that one must hastily hide .humour has become a malignant tumor cut away by political correctness until its now all but a rumour .

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A poem I wrote for a terribly crippled girl Daniella she lived in agony all her life but there wasn't a day I didn't see her smile , a soul so beautiful it cast long shadows of perfection over my dirty own anima and many others .

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When children acquire their first language they sing like a fresh fledgling on the first day of spring with that easy natural swing which to them is a brand new play thing without any restraining ring , their simple melodic crooning needs no interference or fine tuning but unfortunately school comes along with its lexicon Lego box tongue "dislexicating " what was once a beautiful song leaving that innocent syllable swing broken as a veritable birds wing the kids then become too frightened to fly and drag their dislocated diction around in a sling untill eventually as teenagers they at last cut loose from the apron string and once again begin to sing.

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