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Biography

BIOGRAPHY

With a naive foolishness I missteered my age
As brick by brick I built around myself a prison
Finding myself in chains I screamed my rage
Today a calmer balance brings me wisdom

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For Kim, with love.

The Tug The Pull

THE TUG THE PULL

Eighteen it’s
N away we go
A-flirtin’ n a-flatterin’
N a-flittin’s eve’where
N a-skippin’ here n there
N up n down n all aroun’

N knocked sideway a-sudden
At the view of this passin’ Phew!
What a walkin’ stalkin’ potpourri
N we think; stop n take a moment
Of ourly freshly minted wriggly time
Compose right sprightly unspoken memo

Hormones run riot n rush of hot ink blood
A notably knobbly wobbly feverish billet-doux
Scribbled on the frantic crisscrossin’ roads
Of two minds’ minds unwindin’ spools
N the uncrossin’ of two by two knees
Followin’ their foetid horehound fecundity

Till two n two are makin’ merry, merry
Unrequited? – Quite the contrary
Pan n cut to cutesy foreplay
Four teasin’ eyes in a blink of
A wink of a twinkle toed uncurling lip
N the blowin’ of a miriadillium
Of sultry salt sharp kisses

Signed away abandonment
N cried with joy for a while
N blew up n apart n away again
N then cried again … in anguish now
N yet always forgot n forgave
N that also of course too

A Cruel Mistress

A CRUEL MISTRESS

Top of the charts, teenage guitar hero
All those girls down on their knees

Fast forward thirty years
Nothing to see here

Just another clapped out muso
Comes awake mid afternoon

A sobering thought
Sends a shiver

Sends him scuttling
For a hair of the dog

A glass or three
Of Old Paint Stripper

Down at the Rickety Crotchet
Where the mandatory optimism prevails

Those Were The (Teenage) Days

THOSE WERE THE (TEENAGE) DAYS

It’s five past eleven
And all the girls are gone
They’ve taken off Bob Dylan
And put the Beach Boys on

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