I faded as I strolled Across Margate Sands And looked up at the huge sky Blue Grey White and Bright Yet it was the glowing beach That really attracted my attention And I was quickly seduced By the soft violence Of its golden waves

Do visit me Peter Whilst you are in Munich Forget that you are a cop As I have a job for you It will pay well Very well We will both be quite comfortable All you need to do Is assassinate A Captain of Industry A corrupt man Who controls so much It is because…

Gerry was standing on the platform edge Contemplating mortality and coffee The train was due in six minutes He looked into the buffet On the opposite platform How good the London Cakes seemed And Jenny was wearing her short skirt again Jerry could see her panties As she wiped the greasy tables In the distance…

I was on a damp wooden bench The November darkness Was slowly closing in I had taken something idiotic And was beginning to travel Far into the vacancy of my mind My eyes were clear mirrors I could see the many reflections of my soul Knights were dancing in battle So splendid in their full…

  From his high office An ace trader named Al Looked at the wet junction Where the paradise house one stood These were his asphalt memories. In his neon cabin A security guard named Chris Checked the lottery results He never bought a ticket But knew all his numbers He liked the pain. In the…

From the light years of my journey I will send you gifts Wrapped in blue paper You will not receive them As blue is not a reflective colour From the depths of this space I will send you my frag songs Wrapped in blue paper You will not receive them Due to the density of…

Vanished in 2013 And returned in 2023 Their journey Was so terrible That they are now mute

The Chronicles of Anna Magdalena Bach On the 28th of June 2008 (2) Violet Few was walking through St James’s Park. She was returning home from the cinema where she had watched The Chronicle of Anna Magdalena Bach for the third time. It was a film that she loved and when it was showing she…

The photograph showed her mother standing on the slipway outside of the boathouse wearing only a pair of rowing shorts In the background holding a pair of large wooden oars was her father who was smiling broadly at the camera Peter was next to her mother Toasting her with a glass of red wine Oh…

2013 I am of Spanish Blood This poem has been lost For ten years It is glad to have returned 2023