life is
but the pretence and
wingin' it
the
consequence of it,
it is
the me in it and
because of it,

a constant theme running
through me
is poetry

a journey through emotions

skylarks above oceans.

but don't you confuse me with a poet
I'll know it is wrong,
I'm just a chancer who chances his arm
and
all along I knew this to be.

I read avidly, prose, free verse poetry
and it feels there is some of me
in there,
somewhere

It could be so or just so it could not,
life, the pretence is the life that I've got

I also read comic books,
looks like Superman, but
sinks like Prince Namor.




Orwell, room 101
and hell follows on
shooting the angels who dance at
the flip end of in

I begin or began when I ran away
tomorrow may come,
but it's just another day

Scarlett has a lot to answer for
when there's famine and war where
the victims want more
than two rhymes in a bowl
with their rice.