FIFTY THOUSAND WORDS IN A MONTH. (ONE MAN’S STRUGGLE TO WRITE FIFTY THOUSAND WORDS IN A MONTH ABOUT NOTHING IN PARTICULAR)

A very early effort to deride or despise, or even better - patronise. I think this is the second poem I ever wrote. The first is in a lead-lined container under the Thames. One word edit June 4 2010

The remaining leaves on the trees disappeared overnight...as leaves always do in late Autumn, particularly when driven by the ferocity of the wind and rain of the night before.

,,,yes I may be crazy, perhaps I´m truelly dazed cause I don´t understand these wily ways and wheres and whats it really all about,,,

Yesterday I was sitting at my desk writing when I turned around and noticed Papa Smurf standing in the centre of the floor behind me.

The coats aren’t signal red now - or even khaki brown. It’s called disruptive pattern and blends with the background. Except for one day every year in desert, arid lands;