Category Archives: Writing

Rue George Sand


Honey singing splash through puddles
Or a locust voice shouting depending how it falls
Hissing steam of soundless soul tortures
Bursting dam of huge foam and pent-up waters
Green light flight from the roar of raging beasts

Half-grown hop across Red Sea roads
Through the pulse of the circling of traffic in the town
Suns shine: blood-coloured, flesh-coloured, blue
Dance on one leg Rabelaisian and strange
A mad old Chinese medieval saint

Leaping mouse through a snow-white world
Full or empty wine barrel – such a lonely roller
A star set adrift in Gallic seas
Floating with tides – yoyo prayer wheel voice lifted
Throat free from stained glass hands of the church clock

~~~~~ ~ ~~~~~
Recapturing a drunken evening in Tours, France many years back.

Remember The Wind…

In memoriam Kimberly Wilhelmina Floria.


(Fly With The Wind KIM)

Yesterday, I found out about the passing of my friend, a prolific writer, and a wonderful poet,  Kimberly Wilhelmina Floria and my heart broke into a million pieces. Kim fought a brave battle but has decided to rest. However, she has left us with several words of wisdom. While reading her poignant poem below, I felt a searing pain in my chest thinking of all the times I’ve wasted fighting needless battles, blocking the sun and escaping the breeze.

Three weeks ago I was wheeled out of the operating theatre after an emergency surgery, for a fleeting moment, the thought passed through my mind, ‘what if this is the end?’

All that’s going to change now. To celebrate her life, we need to ponder on now, this moment, we should imprint every memories so that when our time comes, we would have lived!

I think what Kim was trying to say is…

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Impasto Imposter


(For shame: further unwarranted symbolisms)

The page has not – not – loaded completely
Something went wrong – went wrong – went wrong

Wiring went wrong – Went AWOL – Went haywire – Rewire

Digital – Digitail – Digitool – Digitall – Digitalis

Intent – Intention – Unintention – Unintended

I Robot – I Roboot – I Reboot – I Reboot – I Reboot

Recovering no now nor now nor neither truth
Nor whatever else once or twice passed for truth

Back then, back there, back in the day
Back it up – Backpack it – Pack it in

Back then back when we postured as one
As one posing as posing as posed as one

As apposite – Or as in opposition
Or as apposite as possible

Or as I – As I – Let’s admit it
As I – uninvited – scammed

(For shame: further unwarranted symbolisms)

Two-way Street


Creation flows forth
In fresh illumination
Out there; in here too.

DADT (1994 – 2011) – A Villanelle

DADT (1994 – 2011)

Welcome to one Private’s unprivate personal hell
Let’s drink a toast in honour of Benny
Shot through the heart by “Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell”

A spiteful, misbegotten fear cloaked in a pious shell
Let’s drink a toast in honour of Denny
Welcome to one Private’s unprivate personal hell

Discharged to stop them tainting other personnel
Let’s drink a toast in honour of Jenny
Shot through the heart by “Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell”

There’s no marker on the battlefield where they fell
Let’s drink a toast in honour of Kenny
Welcome to one Private’s unprivate personal hell

Just to speak their love’s name was to rebel
Let’s drink a toast in honour of Lenny
Shot through the heart by “Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell”

They understood prejudice only too well
Let’s drink a toast in honour of Penny
Welcome to one Private’s unprivate personal hell
Shot through the heart by “Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell”


“Don’t ask, don’t tell” (DADT)

The Plot


So here’s the thing
The bones of the plot
Indentured – sent here to seek out
Some divinity’s golf ball
Lobbed ineptly into the rough
And lost the plot, dammit

What to do now then?
Make it up as you go along I s’pose
Keep up appearances
Develop the plot – obfuscate
Protagonist or antagonist?
Still working on that one

Nosing into who knows what
Nosily, noisily researching
Day by day, day after day
A gradually unfolding autobiography
Maybe already recorded elsewhere anyway
Plots within plots within plots

Move the goal posts – travel
Pick up a few subplots – partner, children
The odd sour note – bastards!
Relieve the monotone at least
Fandangle, froufrou, superfluity
At the end of the day

Still, no use complaining
Go check the codicil
Play the victim, all innocence
Perhaps in a sense I am
Though inner sense tells me
’twas I devised this plot in the first place

Poetic Being


How multiplex
These vehicles
Of self-expression

The varieties
Of pain
Of rapture

Endured solitary
Or broadcast
Into vacuum

Linguistic Analysis


Some inquisitive professor started
Counting the use of our language:
Content words; function words; etc*

Of course I should fall in love with
This analysis of my use of words
Affording a window into the soul

More worrying though is the fact
That such a linguistic analysis
Might be undertaken by others

Unless – once bitten, twice shy
I have had the opportunity to
Duly preprune my outpourings

At this point as if riding to my rescue
Poetry raised its beautiful head and
We nodded to one another in unison



Great Truths


The greatest Truths
Are those which

When you realise them
Your view of the world
Is totally transformed

And you ask yourself how
Given so obvious they are
You never saw them before

Twin Towers


They went on and called
The World Trade Centre
The Twin Towers
Despite Tolkien

Despite Tolkien

Despite Tolkien
They went on and called
The World Trade Centre
The Twin Towers

They didn’t do irony

They honoured profit instead
Even in their hometown*
Morgoth and Sauron, Saruman
Shiny windows, shiny cars

Shiny lives

And to them malice only existed
A world away, when somebody
Usually with funny coloured skin
Dared to get in the way

Kiss of death

September the Eleventh, Two Thousand and One
Business as usual, a bright sunny day
Suddenly all that certainty and security gone
A truly impolite awakening, for sure

A quite rude awakening in fact

I worked out from way back
Not to keep saving drowning people
Better to sort out the villains
Who were busy dumping them in

And laughing

So I spent the morning, then the afternoon
Sure it would arrive, claiming responsibility
Just three words – Enough Is Enough
Yours sincerely, Oxfam

Big disappointment


* “But Jesus said unto them, A prophet is not without honour, but in his own country, and among his own kin, and in his own house.” (Mark 6:4)



“It’s tough to counterpoise hot-button issues with rationality.” – Russ Baker

Please note that this poem is not intended to imply any disrespect to the people who died when the World Trade Organisation buildings were destroyed, nor to the many thousands of people who have been killed or had their lives disrupted or destroyed as a consequence. This poem is not about Al Qaeda. It is not about the high impact of an instant “terrorism” attack but the slow motion obscenity of induced poverty and starvation. So while all that light is being shone today on what we are expected to concentrate on – the events at one particular place on one particular day thirteen years ago, here’s another little spotlight on the same events, but from another perspective on what the World Trade Organisation represents and its impact on the suffering of not thousands but millions of people all over the world every day.

“As we move deeper into an age of misinformation, disinformation, and superfluous information, maintaining our collective memory will more and more depend on honest information brokers; storytellers, journalists, investigative reporters who pursue a story with a passion and hunger for truth.” – Bill Berkowitz

“We use the madness to separate the events so that we don’t have to recognize the politics they have in common. The madness of each individual act enables us to distance ourselves from the politics that burn under the polite society we’ve created” – Bill Berkowitz

“Why, in a world that produces more than enough food to feed everybody, do so many – one in seven of us – go hungry?”
– Growing A Better Future: Food Justice In A Resource-constrained World

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