TICK TOCK ROCK

Check out my latest episode!

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 about a miserable old man who people nick named stan he once had a palace and a kingdom then unfortunately lost everything and was reduced to that of a normal man , alas such a tragedy to fall down amonst we the mere mortal clan .

A poem I wrote for a terribly crippled girl called Daniella she lived in agony all her life but there wasn't a day I didn't see her gorgeous smile or hear her wonderful laughter , she has a soul so big and beautiful it certainly casts long shadows of perfection over my own Quasimodo anima and many others .

A tune I wrote in fourths and fifths to give a semblance of the ancient church music they say that you should never play these intervals but they sound reasonably good if placed in the correct invertions. all rights reserved

A poem i wrote for the fire and brimstone preacher who baptised me in an ice water stone trough a wild religious Celt with raven hair alabaster skin and husky dog blue eyes a true blood line of the ancient Bretagne .

A little poem I wrote about our Neo Omnipresence that seems almost God like in its power and control , the all seeing eye that invisible entity watching over everything we say and do.

Check out my latest episode!

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.

Upon seeing a cold cadaver staring back people begin to timidly tread in fear of the dead circling round as though it be some spectral apparition of dread .