THE STYLE OF THE INFANTILE (poem to my sister)

The style of the infantile Remember when you played dead in the bath To fall for it once was cruel But to fall twice – Oh, well - that’s the style of the infantile

Man With a Bag

lost years reclaimed through the tunes he brings about love and redemption

New Scents

from Yorkshire they came, on ships of distant passion sails unfurled, adults eager for change
Cherry

That song

On the power of words.

Scintillation

The air is close

A bridge of joy

The things we did were quite insane. But that’s how joy came to pass… As we cut the turf and made a bridge Out of lush green; meadow grass. Knowing only all too full well nothing

A Flotilla Of Anti-Jubilee Writings (Deleted Stories)

What would fill my heart with jubilation? What would fill my heart with jubilation? To snap shut the divide between rich and poor.

Of mice and men Alternate Ending

As promised Candy waited for George to settle in the bunkhouse. Candy precariously walked towards the men, who unknowingly, were about to become part of a life-changing event.

Anger

It stinks, it reeks of old socks, it was electrifying and it filled me up, it truly was anger. I released the sound of anger, it was loud; it screeched and moaned,

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