Paris, Paris, I have not come to light Or spin you, I’ve not come to sing la Senne, My throat seeks no refreshment from your night And I’m not asking where to go or when.

The words, that once flowed so freely gone! A mental blank cliche, after cliche filling a mind to melting point all these thoughts but no words fill the page and I start to wonder

The Little Green Room. San Quentin Prison, California, 10am, November 8 1957.

She, who came in from the wind and drifting snow.

I just couldn't identify with what was happening to him - just another one lost.

A fictional account of real events in the Chagos Islands. For further info look at Chagos | UK Chagos Support Association Title taken from - “Diego was my bird in the sky that was taken from me.” (Charlesia Alexis, in ‘Stealing A Nation’ by John Pilger)

Second chapter to "A Good Pot of Red Sauce"

Yes, I know you mean a lot to me, I know it's hard for you to have such an open heart in this mad weird world, I know you're scared (to be hurt, to be blue) Trust me:

yesterday was spent with a lovely sea-shell girl: today must be worse small city Twilight of ecstacy and terror: dark forest mountains Apollo's returned to shine on crow and farmer: