Oh Yipee I am a Hippie It is all Peace and Love Welcome in the New Year My dear friends Take this Smoke that Life is a series Of endless sunsets All the evenings of the world Hang on Just fucking hang on What am I saying What are these lies Peace and Love Nothing…

My name is Naked Smith That is all the world Needs to know The rest is quite boring

If you want to see me Naked Then close your eyes And count to six Open them again And you will see me Naked

Annie has just dragged me Into her perfumed bath I am fully clothed It is a spiteful day outside And the mud from my jeans Is staining her bathwater I was going to climb the spire this afternoon But I think I will spend it with Annie

The sleeping days between Christmas and the New Year Seem so very grey and cold to me Please write from wherever you are

On a stormy day in late December I purchased a copy of British Ballads From a charity shop in a coastal town In September 1882 it had belonged To a Frederick Bryant Who had left his inscription Inside the faded blue book I have always preferred limited histories

Last night I dreamt that I was a holiday rep Travelling to and fro between Aegean Islands It was a non stop existence but I enjoyed my time When I woke up it was still raining quite heavily The holly bush was dancing wildly in the high winds I looked at my watch and realised…

Where is Room 206  You do not want to know  I have experienced this room  Entering and leaving  Through the same door  I will never forget Room 206 As I hated and loved it  At the same time 

We often try to preserve the past But at the same time We do our best To destroy the future

I had a thought about poetry the other day  About whether any of the brave soldiers  Fighting in the continuing wars  Were writing poetry during these terrible times