As you get older looking for love is similar to rummaging through a scrap yard come jumble sale you sift an shake through the worn torn fragile and fail usually to no avail things are stretched out of shape almost befitting the proverbial grey whale instead of the once sleek male or female then suddenly there it is the right one for you the little bunny rabbits bob tail an together you dovetail perfectly as you'd been handmade by thomas chippendale .

We used to be such bonhomie brothers in revelry now like ghosts of the good Life we haunt past each other in the street averting a guilty gaze towards one anothers feet , the spirits and spectres have long since been exorcised by the big dry of sobriety which has turned us all into rational respectable members of society ; today we don't strut so proud or shout too loud , we just shuffle past with eyes cowed and heads bowed.

A short poem about lust that seemingly deadly sin that if the devil be shamed and the truth told is an instinctive desire that we all carry within .

Similar to an Eskimo fishing through a hole in the ice one could easily imagine a soul catcher waiting patiently at the edge of a black hole in order to capture our very essence , then freeze drying us in the absolute zero of infinity giving him our plasma concentrate life , we'd be ready for a re-nucleation or reconstitution, and what better freeze drying facility than the perfectly vacuumed packaging plant of space .

The femme fatale overrides all of our rationale her swan song is the sound we hear as our love boat runs aground, the final pheromone is a scent of sulphur we smell as we slowly drowned .

Listening to these waffling old windbags wheezing about saving our world they quaff down wine squandering ten pounds a glass and then dare to set the price of carbon capture at three pounds a ton and this to save your granddaughter or grandson ?.

A musing about giving your offspring a strong polysyllabic sounding name something that will inspire them to aspire towards fortune and fame.

A poem about the busiest train in the whole of Britain and Europe the 7.22 to from Woking to Waterloo a hundred million passengers pass through Waterloo each year which makes for some terrifying or tantalising flesh to flesh point's of view .

Growing up in a witches coven with all them casting spells over everything and everyone. I couldn't understand the stars then or now  , they  were always fighting for the Sorceresse's supremacy .

Prostitution is one of the oldest professions in the world which was here before the four angels of Samuel it's about time the government took control of this sexual slavery let's face facts  the chancellor's been selling cigarettes and booze for hundred of years they're both forms of narcotics best not allow the criminals any room manoeuvre better to take over all their operations save these poor girls any more torture legalise their ancient profession too .