Daily

The human hunter gatherer brain is so very hard to truth train but maybe not if you start using the new silicon scopolamine dream and drip feed it daily with some digital dopamine served up from our omnipresent Turing machine.

A musing written for lily age 9 and her cat Sean who's got terribly fat due to been neutered, he's put on a lot of weight I've narrated it in a yorkshire accent due to Sean being born and raised in Harrogate .

Emblazoned bright upon his breast he carries that noble heraldic crest , tis the colour of blood and fire be it a blessed response to his lovers desire, suspicion states that he was at the passion of christ , an there by thorny crown was blooded an blessed , is this why today he doth still sanctify the arrival of our christmas fest .

Every experience through the innocent eyes of a child can be quite terrifying now as an adult even death is placed into a casual calm context your maker might as well be your baker.

A musing about a talkative taxi driver who would insist on talking about his part time profession as a slaughter men come taxi-dermist my frightfully far back friend and I were able to see and smell the blood by the end of our short journey .

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 gladly swap your old soul to save a new born foal .

I was quite horrified to read that the human is responsible for the slaughter of three billion aninmals each day , i wrote the poem in a pompous manner after listening to a hunter talking about his blood sports, he belived it tobe his righteous privalage to kill similar to royalty who once regularly pleasured their pallets with the flesh of endangered animals with some still doing so today after b...

Legend has that the Robin gained his red breast from pulling the thorns out of the crown of Jesus at his crucifixion to ease his suffering

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 .

A song I wrote to commemorate the courage of Christine, the first transgender beauty queen who, back in 1953, bravely decided to have her gender reassigned to its rightful sexuality, in order that she might be set free from the burden of living with her very unwanted masculinity. But it would be a long journey from the first roll of that snowball before the LGBTQ+ community finally made their stan...

The high functioning alcoholic starts his day with a liberal libation of liquid sin, beneath their Celtic cream coloured skin once beat the heart of Gunga Din .

The macabre story about a great grandmother who's ashes were made into a bone china plate by her broken hearted lover the practice of using powdered human bone in pottery still continues to this day with artists such as Crow and Kraft who call it crafting Cremains .

A poem for the king of rock and roll he was born into extreme poverty raised in a shotgun shack but managed not only to break out of that but also to attack the 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 .

Looking at my Godson Watching the Lion king I cast my mind back to childhood and when I saw a pathetic beast a lion that was used as a pet in a scrap yard chained, toothless, clawless and castrated, it died of pneumonia because of cold and cruelty terrible how we bring these beautiful beasts to suffer in our cold climates to become a caged curiosity .

Two haiku poems , TEAR DROP shows how a Tsunami can start from the slightest ripple. REVOLTING, a poem on how if you distact someone with something revolting it can avert a revolution ie Rome's Colosseum or today's violent multimedia , keep the sapien sedated by letting them slake on sadism .

A musing about road rage and how it affects all of us ,  simmer the sapien inside a tin can especially in a stop start traffic jam and it quickly reverts back to primitive man and that includes pacifists and your little old Gran .

The Oxfam shop or "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 a...

This is a poem I wrote for an innocent looking girl called Alice who when tempered up turns into a hell's angel of malice she resembles a fairytale princess fresh from a folkloric palace yet soon as she opens her mouth you think she's been drinking from the poisoned chalice with her hands in the air she stands about four feet tall but after a rise through with alcohol she turns into a native neand...

Thinking back to my parents fate it's hard to see how they once did romantically pass through the eden gate into the land of milk and money where they fell hopelessly in love and felt the urge to passionately procreate , after which they wore the mortgage mask that twenty five year servile task eventually paying back the bank managers seven percent overdraft , they scrimped and scrapped in a steel...

A musing about an old friend who has now divorced and gone back onto the Mating sites looking for lust not realising that his old sex pistol has long since turned to rust , men of curtain age with faint hearts and feeble flesh really they need to be extremely careful I told one chum that his Bumble dating site might be better if it was called crumble due to the flaking dusty disposition of its cli...

A poem about emperors pope's and kings who believe themselves to be the devine demagoguery even as children they  had whipping boys  to take away their punishment and guilt, sacred scapegoats for them to stripe and slaughter ; If a devine deity did arrive on planet earth these mobsters and megalomaniacs would soon see them quickly murdered .

Our green  karma Queen casts her svelt shadows over the obstinate boulder brained beast lighting her alternative pathway towards a spiritual sentient sanctuary .

A poem written for two old Bohemians who through reckless behaviour in younger year did so destroy the fragile entity of love and are now left with just the ghost of her to haunt their empty old hearts .

A poem I wrote for the everso beautiful Lindsay who is leaving after 11 years she brought her LGBT 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 pl...

In the Swinging Sixties, a sex espionage spy scandal took place called the Profumo Affair. Unfortunately, two of its players were amateurs and did not know the rules of the spy game. One was sacrificed as a scapegoat, and the other, Christine Keeler, lived her life under a long, dark cloud until she died all because they were enlisted by MI5 to take part in a Russian honey trap for Queen and count...