This is a song i wrote about the catastrophic creations cause through having too much cosmetic surgery leaving so many a patient in the perpetual state of a reconstructive purgatory the surgeons are called the picasso's of the plastique, well they certainly end up with a foot an mouth or a tongue-in-cheek , they sculpture and scalpel at something that once started out as the face of the fantastic but by the final phase come cut you're left with a gargoyle freak. All rights reserved.

The Oxfam shop or as we call it "The dead man's drop" is an essential part of our high street culture we all of us at some stage find ourselves sifting through their silt as if stroking and smelling the scents and spirits of our past relatives like some lost and found bric-a-brac burial ground we old elephants come to rummage around amongst the bones and skin of our not so long ago departed kin. Unfortunately all the objects mentioned in this musing is what I have purchased and given away to friends and family as Christmas and birthday presents including many more objects d'arts or as most of my recipient's see them , jumble sale junk.

A song I wrote for the king of rock and roll it's done in a crooning style of the fifties. He was born into extreme poverty raised in a shotgun shack but managed not only to break out of but also to attack the musical apartheid of America he was one of the first to start singing the black man's blues , he went from busking as a bum on Beale Street to having the world worshipping at his feet an all American boy with his all American dream.

A song I wrote in the old music hall traditiion of two verse chorus which is similar to the church stanza chorus stanza chorus I've also sang it in the barber shop of a beggers opera style like that of my father who born in 1925 still bursts into song similar to a Mississippi minstrel .

A song I wrote for my goddaughters birthday it's done through the eyes of a mayfly due to her being born on the 1st of may I was trying to tell her live everyday as if it be her last.

The green eyed monster of sin that secret schadenfreude which we keep hidden away so deep within usually it's only seen in children as their rival for survival and parental attention the lowly leftover instinct of our anthropic ascension , however this terrible traits can also be witnessed later in our lives when when the male begins to assert it's dominance as the procreation stage arrives .

A poem I wrote for the everso beautiful Lindsay who is leaving after 11 years she brought her spirit and colour into our drab fifty souls of grey community bombing us daily with vivid wondrous paintings she takes with her an extraordinary feng shui losing her is like the loss of a perpetual summer's day , artist are the community take them away and you kill it's soul you're left with empty plastic people with tarmac tongues and concrete craniums.

A song I wrote about the building blocks of life that are made from nucleic acids , Lysergic acid has also been around since the dawn of time doubtless it would have been eaten by our early primate mammalian species increasing hallucinogenic and conscious brain capability hence where the homo sapiens may have got their jump start on the evolutionary ladder the human is now beginning to experiment with the capabilities of LSD administering it to elderly patients in order to awaken the parts the brain that had shut down due to dementia and other brain disorders with remarkable results.

A song written about an old person in the analogy of an old car that starts to break down with age.

A song I wrote for Nina  in lock down with covid and the kids a little soft swing Whilst you do your thing hell what else do you do whilst in Morrisons café.