Who am I?"- English by birth, Scouser by luck, living in South Africa by choice- Paid to cook, hypnotizes for fun and writes poems because I cant stop- Insomniac, chain smoker, sour worm addict- Bulldogs, Motorbikes and Liverpool football club- Dreamer, realist and slighty depressed
The unwed moon rowing like a swan on blue lake after making love to silence. Dignified shadows walk on black beach gathering white heels. Only lunatics will sing in shapeless lines. Who cares for a sequence? The milk of love
She’s our little-fairy-queen For whom we did pine. A wail thro’ her lips Brings us flocking to her crib. To assuage that helpless gaze, On that sweet innocent face. A smile breaks her wail On a familiar face to hail.
Immensity of deviation was exploding. Abruptly my frail frame collapsed. I did not know the answers. I was lost in my inner sanctum, full of hollow escapes. The ugly ‘ism’ was devastating. Not in, not out. I was blowing up