I was travelling to Thursford, one day in the car
And I’d followed directions I’d got in the bar
We were on Caister road, was it left was it right
It was late, we were lost we were losing the light
We spotted a policeman and asked of him “pray,
Thursford my friend, can you tell me the way”
Well, he started to chuckle, he grinned then he laughed
Said “ you’ve listened to John, you’ve been pretty daft
It’s a good forty mile, you’ve had a bum steer
It’ll take you an hour, cos it’s nowhere near here”

Procreation a recreation of antiquity
micro populations confined by geographic boundaries,
spider webbing across the naked planet.

Verdant green sprouting, carpeting the stratum
Vegan life plan, wildlife annihilated ,
Adam’s Ale, liquid restrained.

Volcanic shudders, earth quakes threaten
Seismic clash, fissures appear
Imperceptible crash

Azure skies flood with ebony
Eruptions , oozing terror
Snuffing out life

End of Days
End of this world

As tense as nearing end becomes,
life still sometimes breathes
a drift of dreams
upon my wondering soul,
my innocence long overcome
through focused lens of living,

yet rife with memories
still as sweet
as a girl's first doubtful kiss,
her touch in warming firelight,
drinking of her body with my own,
her heated breath upon my skin
still haunting
decades after death,

Heightened imaginations
stemmed from not owning a lot of things;

faith in God, and family
in a land where all were kings;

receiving all the blessings each life brings.

Each agenda far from hidden
we were the flock, and God the "word";

at a time of innovation
from pure genius to the absurd;

with the best soundtrack music ever heard.

Our skies, truly the limit
and our faith knew no bounds;

under the band named, Noland
we explored through music, and sounds;