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Tatata! Tototo! Tuftuftuf!
Ducking and scampering
not a war zone but war of protest
fisty arms speaking out.

Sunflowers made scarlet in mid-day sun
crimsoned from love gone sour -
was there ever love?
Leaders don't surely: reason why
restructuring eloped...

There goes our soured soup
left in the open by menacing thugs
who dares eat it but the dead?
Will they come back alive again?

Classical Composer Limerick #3

The young Johann Nepomuk Hummel
Once drank a whole litre of Kummel;
He said "I can hold it,
My heart will enfold it,"
But he couldn't control his loose bum-hole.

Berlin, City of My Dreams

Once I had a love
Of a vanished city,
Once I had a love
Of Berlin in the Thirties,
Once I had a love
Of the Berlin Stories
I read about Norris,
And I read about Sally,
Oh, city of my dreams,
Berlin in the Thirties,
A place I longed to be…

City of Dix,
And city of Beckmann,
City of the portrait
Of Sylvia von Harden,
City of Grosz
And city of Berber,
City of Brecht,
And city of Droste,
Oh, city of extremes,
Berlin in the Twenties,
A wondrous place to be…

Daydreams and Dollars

I want to go back
to the magical years of the 70’s
I want to enter a backstreet bar in Brooklyn
where live performers
sing their hearts out
for a few bucks and hopefully a break

I want to sit down at a round table
with a glass of fizz in my hand
Watching for the lights to flash onto the next act
Who just happens to be
Barbra Streisand
Oh yes, that’s my daydream
at least for today anyway.

Fable of a Celestial Family

When radiant Phoebus rose to mount
His blazing chariot, dimmed stars
Still shone, but shyly twinkled, “Sire,
May we not trail you on your tours?

“Let all our faintest darts collect
And add to your own brilliance,
Which might persuade our mother, Night,
To leave us in your radiance.”

“My children, do not ask for such;
Large fires consume the smaller flame,
And I would only sear your eyes,
Should I remove you from your dame.

The Bane Of The Cancered Soul

There is no God in England
(I learned of that this day)
For when a man is stricken
He has no more to say.
He lies in expectation,
The end to shortly be,
His heart is blindly gazing out
Through eyes that barely see.

The blaze within his body
Radiates, and yet,
The chilling of his very soul
Allows him to forget.
With sonance all around him,
The sobbing and the tears,
He listens to so many words
Whereas he hardly hears.

The Hidden Hell In Me

Within my Muse’s back bedroom there stands a bed and chair,
A table and a lampstand – paper scattered everywhere.
And in the darkest corner, so as to be no eyesore,
There looms the shadowed outline of my Muse’s closet door.
Behind that door, wrapped up in night, fester my old regrets,
My pains, sorrows, bitternesses – that’s where it all collects.
So when, at night, my Muse unlocks and opens wide that door,
The messes of my twisted mind spill out across the floor.
The sticks and stones that broke my bones, the beasts that claw my heart,


You are a very
intelligent teen
I had once been

travel makes us wild
and wisdom wise wide
you have that acumen

inculcated may be
to me it came naturally
so I ask all who read me

Abide With Me


Wandering through labyrinths of the Grand Market,
I round a stall with baskets of figs and dates.
In the shade of its gently flapping canvas
a reptile sways its ringed length
to rhymes of a snake charmer’s flute.
Gems adorn his turban.
He’s one more desert nomad
lured to this bustle for a handful of foreign coins.

I'll always remember

Silence is like a scream, it echos off the walls

Waiting for an answer that will never come

like a head filled with bad memories

or a body scarred and bruised

it stings worse than bees

and burns worse than fire

it stains my head

and paints a perminate picture in my brain

I cant forget the hate you've given

you say you're sorry but your not

you can try again

but I'll never be rid

Of your hate not love

i'll always remember your rough touch


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