Poetry is ordinary language raised to the Nth power. Poetry is boned with ideas, nerved and blooded with emotions, all held together by the delicate, tough skin of words.

Paul Engle

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Welcome to Hell

Tears of blood

Welcome, welcome I’ve waited for you. Now pray tell, what did you do? Walk passed the hungry, ignoring you knew? Or was it more sinister thought through and well planned? I see you have blood smeared on your hands. You humans don’t get it. Selfishly laughing, open-eyed blind. Each tear you cause others is your


man below sky

Do I dare? As the earth revolves And the sun is Obfuscated from my vision The stars begin their dance While the planets Continue their waltz. And in the island of their movement Is the ocean of the Milky Way Itself a cosmic island In the ocean of creation. I live in the smallest island

One. Two. One


Where the tide line of reality and dreams appear We stand. Uncertainty and reassurance walking hand in hand. Enjoying the kisses of the salty breeze, at the same time feeding the wind it’s flavour. Unable to indulge in our creation. Held back by our unforeseen future, crippled by our humanity but empowered by the forces

All of time


The wine the wine it tastes so divine… The world is our oyster with pearls before swine… The laughter and rejoicing in everyone’s mind… The food is as fulfilling as times are so fine… The moon is full as my heart is entwined… The riches of love are to see hope eternally in beautiful blue



When you think you have beauty in your life and it is taken When you think a world is born of your own mind’s eye; creation When lies are the commonest words spoken without deprecation When the dark nights become your only truest salvation When you believe in two hearts becoming one in love’s manifestation

Girls and Boys

Fake Love

I watched the boys clamor amorous and sweet for their little girls who stand black on the street and you’ll crash I swear it back down to earth you’ll wear their frowns beneath bronzed, rough skin doused with confidence and cologne you’ll be sorry you ever spread your lips Flaxen hair and bright pink shoes

Supernova Star Dust


You are supernova star dust, remnants of a sun turned inside out; born anew. Elemental matter from swirling nebulae, drawn together by gravity to form a rocky mass, at exactly the right distance from another star, itself formed in precise proportion to shine for long enough, with just enough warmth, for elements to randomly collide,