#SolsticeSummer
The world’s a funny old place There used to exist wondrous civil… in south amerika, north amerika, afrika, australia and asia Brown eyes in asia
I am a young man stealing time and sunlight from the gods I am an old man refusing to pray or pay for more life I am a caged animal trying
Turtles have no mothers, they are born in sand where they crawl and struggle to t… whilst their shells harden. Their mother has long gone,
Billy Childish is not some mediochur cunt penning painting lessons for the disenchanted he’s a workman
Leshy Once upon a time and tide When many trees grew tall and wide And everybody lived outside When we were newly springtime born
As I dip my weapon into the black… of the inkwell and draw up a chamb… of inky darkness and my memory spi… back through time... I am sitting in an underground cottage
In 1969 when I was 15 or so I cashed my scipt in every day at Boots 24hr pharmacy in Piccadilly Circus for the then legal Diamorphine Sulphate... saw Burroughs in the 3am queue once and...
the night is full of pale blue, glowing mushrooms. An undulating carpet of bioluminescence, a Persian rug of tiny votive parasols, communing with the infinite other. Both between and ov...
One of my earliest memories as a toddler was a summer afternoon in the 1950’s....my mother sat me on her brother’s motorbike so she could take my picture to add to her collection of smi...
an angel came to guide me but I wa… an angel came to hold my hand but… an angel came to hold me and I was… I was here........all alone my head was my home
Like a hoof-pick digging deep into the V shaped groove of the horses hoof the poets pen must be gripped forcibly yet tenderly
Charles Bukowski, Dylan Thomas,… poets with sturdy legs to walk the… way down yonder at the bottom of P… Pacing the street to put the beat… poets who bled ink
“A hawthorn tree stands alone in a… the furrows embrace her in her iso… She sees the world in 360 degrees.… above.......... below
I made my way to the crossroads at the very edge of town around that magic demi hour when the sun goes down old newspaper headlines
At ringend on june sixteenth ninet… Molly opens her door and Literate Leopold plonks his k… Isn’t it grand to be remembered this way?