The trick is to be a raincoat, to trust honesty won’t shine through . . .
Radical love, female lust . . .
A poem is in honour of those same wonderful mouth-pieces who disturb no brain cells whatsoever in the quest to achieve their own gluttonous ambitions
The insecurities involved in the human endeavour of creation.
I sketched as she told me of her dream: the cup of tea, the stone faced fish, the mulberry leaves set to fall… my colours were chosen for her alone but I know she will sigh then speak slow words like these: yours is a life lived without metaphor, guileless you offer me your shoddy […]
Chains “Oh, and how those screeching chains did wrack my aching limbs, sir, and such was my gritted pain I squirmed and wormed, flip-flop flat bellied in the dirt, sir. Though loud I cried for sweet release and kissed his earthly feet, sir the master bade no man to raise me or give water to […]
There have been occasions when it’s been necessary to question my understanding of Freedom. Freedom requires no Bill of Rights to secure it, no doctrine or manifesto, no lip service or twisted lie to lend it credibility. Freedom is neither substance nor nutrition and yet by Freedom alone the spirit can live. Freedom asks for […]
“When I was just sixteen, I stood waiting for a dream At Barker Street bus station every night When I tried to get it on, she just looked at me with scorn My courage turned to dust and I took flight” Click! the Flaming Clef to play ~ Irene Wilde This song was inspired […]
November 1975: Beyond a phalanx of sticks and rifles glittering in the growing heat of the morning sun, in a border town called Tarfaya; at the far end of a rubble boulevard heaving with a forest of men in armour all smothered in the blue fog of military diesel, stood a sad white wall. And […]
In ’75, in the Anti-Atlas mountains, my waking eyes were crammed with rubble strewn slopes pock marked by brittle grey bushes: children scampered between boulders the size of buses cracking in petulant heat: rivulets between ridges trickled southwards through a broad valley of almond trees onward into wasteland stretching its dry fingers into finely sifted Sahara. […]