A face on the street meets with passerby feet Wincing in ways unforetold, there’s his mate he passes by, a victim to cold Shaking a cup again, he was there and then – not. So you throw some by, cast an eye for the figure left there, discarded like ply  There’s cash on the line… Read more

In my hometown individuality equates to a disease Fester freely with us in ease Stay ten score more and freeze Waste away some more years And drown your fear in ten more beers In our town we hate outsiders In our town we cull the writers In our town we don’t want you here There’s… Read more

Concrete collides as tarmac abides – thirty roads convene, never seen, on any tv screen  unnamed, now maimed, their life in glass cages is spared the pages, of novella – friends of the bookies teller. As ligature trundles through lamplight square Where a skinhead broods a cyclical pictorial of life’s foul moods Perceived through unseeing… Read more