raise the camp fire,
blankets spread on
the ground,
singing dead and door
tunes,
sex chorus behind
rolling orange orb
waiting for the sherbet

raise the camp fire,
blankets spread on
the ground,
singing dead and door
tunes,
sex chorus behind
rolling orange orb
waiting for the sherbet
Wheatfields
she hitched her
shorts the cleft
appeared
and in that moment
all tides surged
today had become
brighter.
Ukraine
Painting, Oil on Canvas
Size: 25 W x 35 H x 1.4 D cm
2022 a pandemic is just loosening its grip and then another disease began , Russia under the looming presence of Putin , invaded Ukraine with brutal aggression a petulant psychopath wanting a reunited Soviet Union , well he can fuck off , I see on the news a beautiful people facing adversity with grace and fortitude and in my heart and prayers I think of them , and as I do I remembered there is a poem Love Ukraine by Volodymyr Sosyura that says so much and can fit for the here and now
Please offer aid to any organisation , the people of Ukraine need our love and support
standing naked in the kitchen
talking on long cable
green wall phone
handset greasy
from pan fried bacon
I needed you
as we spoke
long distance
bare feet paced
on tactile floor
your voice oozed
sweet through receiver
I could see you
imagine you
black neglige
auburn hair
remaining flaccid
slapped to my thighs
as I knew
his cigarette tasting
tongue would be
caressing your neck
hands massaging
needy breasts
you will come home
shower fresh panties
and we would
cradle ourselves in love
on the couch
Consulting the Oracle /From a Plane
In the recent trend for publishing books based around specific years, no-one has yet laid claim to 1976. Like visitors strolling past a boss-eyed mongrel at Battersea Dogs’ Home, prospective authors have failed to see the appeal of a year that began with 15 people murdered in Northern Ireland before the Christmas decorations came down and continued in grindingly grim fashion with front pages dominated by endless tales of industrial aggro or Cod and Cold War stand-offs. Civil war raged in Angola and bombs exploded throughout London. Is this the MPLA, is this the IRA? Yes, on both counts, Johnny.
Action’s most infamous cover, as seen in High-Rise.
Listen closely and you can hear the tectonic plates…
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As you know I love to write and love to read as well , I have known this poet for a while and she is modest , intelligent and a fiercely wonderful writer have a read then follow her on twitter and show her the love
Judy lay silicone silent
under blanket
her submissiveness unconditional
lubricant with sleeve
my cream cockroaches
flow without conception
inception or growth
they crawl in that
cavity I adorned
colored with marker pens
to realise my own
lost to the dusk imagination
she will not play it down
as I whisper
she will listen
without utterances of condemnation
stroke her face
expression of a blonde bored
I need animatronic
never real
real is a prospect in terror
Judy is subjected
to all my pain
isolation and grief
and will never
need a coffin