Autobiography

England's High Street

work drink play drink work drink
Cherry

Early memories

She was so beautiful. I sat there taking in every detail of her features. The small rounded nose, the full ruby lips and those vivid blue eyes accentuated by her golden ringlets.

Such A Boron Cohen - Benny Hill for A level kids needing a fad

Sasha Bor on Cohen – the point is not missed Roll up roll up to my circus Allow me to insult any race Oh come on I’m only joking Look at the smile that’s on my face

Hallelujah

Here comes my nurse with my daily dose on a unicycle constructed entirely of punctuation marks, sorry sentences and sticky backed plastic- see her weaving her way through the field of lost socks, hold

A mathematical defence

Having grown up in a rural Afrikaner community Prof Sauer once told me the following story:

Still haven't forgave myself *18+*

Blame myself for my childhood. Feel left out, I'm real misunderstood. But that's life growing up in the hood. But I blame myself.

Rome

Dull centurion, genitor, I’m tired of your dire gates, The journeys East, the plums and dates, I can not fight your sunset war. And you, Cleopatra from New York,
Cherry

Vitriolic Sticky Wicket

I wondered if it was for real or some joke we would later share. But further comments set the seal they really filled me with despair.

No Shit Sherlock - The new report of 'elitism in private schools'

No Shit Sherlock A new report released today Says that upper class kids always get their way No shit Sherlock The report announces that those with more money

Pillow Talk

sleep - the only thing in common
Cherry

The Trouble with Grace

We couldn’t help ourselves, even though we knew where it would end.

An Ode to Midges

Green snow falling on my windshield relentlessly, tiny green guru that taught me the art of squee-gee, green sea full of dragon-fly ships, bitter bugs persistently trying to slip through my lips,

Apathy Hill - Brief intro

A town with no cheer

Reflection on Sunset Cliffs, San Diego

I tend to make metaphors out of everyday objects and LIFE (because life itself is an everyday object).

Accidents with Permanence

Sharpies are permanent, but what people forget is that crayons are, too.

Becoming a Woman

A 16-year old the figuring out the difference between a woman and a lady

Some seriusly crappy prosa

I knew you don't want it but neither did I I'm yours, there you have it, now I want to fly

Great rising

I see the sun The great rising And wish I had got a better nights sleep I look for the sanctity of life in the clouds But there is none Then one day it hits you And it takes you by surprise

Drunk

My head is spinning. Where are you, And where’s your sweetness now? When will I taste your fallen glow, Or kneel to kiss your hands of dew Which bear the morning light? No: never …

Girls Camp. My last Year.

Up in the mountains The air so pure Being together with girls we know Laughing and loving and learning from each other From a first year beehive To a last year laurel We all band together

The reality of bent nostalgia and good drunks

When he hit, boy laughed. Small fearful, feral laugh. Who knows why? But he did and boy knew when.

Finite's Lost Arrow

there's always one

Looking at your old photo

Your face is there, your smile, your ways, Those lovely eyes that you have got, But not the passion, no, and not The searing tenderness which days And days saw burnt like matchsticks in

Great Whale

Through the opal gloam I will eat you up until your skin snugs inside mine our scales should slide nicely no bother. Really, this will not do - shedding friends spitting them out
Cherry

My Hands

Small for an adult man they remain unblemished, skin no longer taut, knuckles tiny knots of weathered cherrywood, the palm patterns, for so long ignored, now warily examined

Skeleton Life - Stale Marriage

when the kids and the bills trap you.

Chilis and collision

From something I written for a writing group, not sure about the structure though, or if it has enough form.

The Empty Phial

Running on empty

Nightmare

I've turned my pillow over a thousand times tonight.

A Blues Poem -To sing/mumble when drunk......

Four in the morning and the sun is peeking at the mess you're in as you trip your way home.

Do You Know Me?

You think I'm an object with no mind of my own, But since I met Him I've learned and I've grown, You think I'm a girl who is scared and alone, But I know that at last the way has been shown.

The Calling

Through the winds I hear a voice that echoes softly in my mind the sound of the spirit calls me near On blackest nights On brightest days the voice calls strong beckoning calling

To Be One

When He holds me I feel safe in His arms, When he is with me I feel cherished, When He needs me I feel special, When He takes me I feel loved.

"GOING MY WAY?"

When the old Buick stopped I couldn’t believe my luck. I was sure enough tired. It'd been a long day a'searing heat, and nasty looks.

Bravo

just a poem..

Self-Consciousness

I flex my hands eagerly in the gloom. A crying baby boy falls rapidly through chaos into my itching palms. I raise my hands into the faint light and his innocent gaze meets mine with amazed horror.

What the mirror said.

A new dawn.

CONFESSIONS OF A HAPPILY MARRIED MAN essay

During the last century (when I was younger) I never thought of getting married. I was too busy playing Roy Rogers, Gene Autry or Tom Mix.

Reflection of a man?

I am the prisoner of another man. He obeys my commands and speaks with my voice, but he is not me. He thinks my thoughts and shares my feelings, but he is not me.

Beavis & Butthead & the River Of No Return

the river had us firmly in its grip as we bounced up and down

I AM MY FATHER poem

I’m grown now, a man of graying years, with wisdom about sacrifices he made when life wasn’t quite what dad wanted.

The Hammock

A butterfly flits flower to flower in an Admirals uniform, commanding attention...

The Seeker of Truth

This night reminds me so of my thoughts

Reserved For Relatives

They blur with emotions, as much as she may try the tears fall regardless of the day.

Willie – Part 1

just a little story that I'm working on... please feel free to slate at will. ;)

The Rag Doll

It was just my way of expressing my feelings about bullies. I'm sorry if it's no good, but it was more about the message.

Our Mulberry Love

Not much inspiration at the moment so I'm posting an old one, Well,it does have one cherry in it! (:

The Weekender

“The Weekender” 1. Why hide if there is nothing to hide? I keep thinking of that Will Oldham song: “Gulf Shores.” Where are you?

INTRO TO POSSIBLE BOOK

in the past, i have desperately tried to ignore god's presence in my heart. i hesitated to believe in him out of a fear that he would fail me. everyone, always seemed to fail me. my friends.

Aftermath

The plan failed. Finally bored with burning, I pulled the plug. Sweet, certain gravity; a tornado tangoed over the hole.

Morning Wished, Drawn and Coloured in. A Pastorale.

As it was, is and in all that's wanted. As it is, for all its disappointments.

"Self-Portrait at 31: 14th St., again."

In Law, we talk about “unpacking” language. Some jurists explain issues they have analyzed with an algebraic economy of words. Some judges build these tiny fortresses with only

Jesus Won't Steal our Cigarettes

I'm listening to Neal Young singing "Sugar Mountain" in our rented modern cabin with old pine panelling, wearing my Tibetan engagement ring: streaming Nag Champa incense in a $20 jade plant,
Poem of the week

Une Nuit Blanche

Message from a veteran insomniac ;) I move from mountain range to foetal - twisting turning. Turning in the grooves of this grave - arms as wings, waving, waving.