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a bit weird - just a passge on how people are never what they make out to be

another look at the state of things in Britain

a poem about a very famous songwriter - feel free to guess

A poem on Jorn Utzom - architect of the Sydney Opera House

we are not all we appear to be, we are not always right, we are not always alone.

A foreign affair alien to my skin Lauren flared up and flew in Her vociferous oath to god A stranger stood in my skin She sharpens pencils with a ..

From the front of my house I can see The hibernation of cranes Bodies in the bridge Cryogenic geriatrics moaning Blood in the fridge The living..

A box of sodden matchsticks lies at my feet Raining heavily Now beautifully serene. Tiny fingers playing the keys to my spinal chord An invisibl..

this is a comment on the expression that people are 'the salt of the earth'.