What a dream I had
hunkered down in Paris
dodging Russian bullets
stomach empty
eyes watered from the smoke
fingers too numb to grip.

The snow outside is corrupted
of mud, blood and bone
the proud tanks roll through
without pausing
without sympathy
without drivers.

It is for our salvation
the army came that day
we could no longer be trusted
to govern ourselves.

In 2009 I caught my breath
And held it in my hand
Carried over to the New Year
And released it on the other side
But the breath had gone
Dissolved like a waking memory

In 2013 I held my breath and
Gathered it up
I carried it over to the New Year
To release it on the other side
But the breath of life had gone
Dissolved by the heat of my hand

In 2017 I held my breath
And stifled the ache
The ache of time wasted
Cradled from year to year
Released without care on the other side
But the breath of life had gone
This I had to accept.

In 2020 I held my breath
behind my mask
I dare not carry it over
we have seen too much death.

Collecting is an illness
We can all recover from
Things thought unique
Are devalued en masse

The Endless quests for
Meaningless variations
The infinite minutiae
That no-one finds interesting
But it’s never enough. . . is it?

It starts off innocent enough
Two items nearly similar
Then two to complete a set
Ten more to complete the series

And there’s always the ****** awkward piece
The ‘sort-after’
The 'must-have'
That’s so ******* expensive
But you've got to have it
That’s collecting for you.
‘It’ll be worth something someday’
Yeah, not in my lifetime
Somebody else’s maybe

Collecting is an illness
It makes us secretive
It makes us sneaky
It makes us blind
It makes us greedy
It makes us needy
It makes us poor

I am a collector
And I’m on the road
To recovery

Us we Trolls
Who never met
Who never met?
Thus we Troll

Us we Trolls
Who never loved
Who never loved?
Thus we Troll

Us we Trolls
Did all but hide
and all but shied
From us we Trolls

Us we Trolls
Did nought but lie
Nought but lie
Thus we Troll

I know you’ve seen my load
My bulging treasure trove
Stacked on the check-out belt
Shiny corporate logos showing

Yes, I can afford branded goods
Why pay less
When you can have the best?
No white labels for me
No generic boxes that scream
I am poor
I wouldn’t be seen dead
With three day old bread
What, recycled toilet rolls?
My ****!

Absent is a hole left waiting
Absence is my heart still aching
Absconded with my wildest dreams
Abstracted from my darkest schemes
Abscess hewn by surgeon’s knife
Abstaining is a way of life
Absolution I must suspend
Absinthe now my only friend

Look see
Farther still on crowded hill
My love stands against the storm
A soul undone for ever after

And should we fall asleep
And never wake
We'll walk the path of ages yet

And should we find each other
Waiting around the corner of time
Treading on precious memories
We'll link hands
Laughing into darkness
Like giddy children