Camus once spoke about the absurdity of being killed in a car crash  I think that he should have added that it would be just as absurd  To die of a smoking related disease after too many cigarettes  Or to drink oneself to death in middle age  Ophelia smiled at me but averted her gaze…

My father once told me That we are nearer to war Than we would like to consider      

Last night I had a dream about falling from a cliff On to the smooth and jagged green gleam rocks But I knew that I would not suffer any pain As my name was Ophelia of the Commune   1871  

Cutting Flowers is a barbers shop in the Station Road It is also the name of my sisters BF Have you noticed that after a shower That you sometimes smell slightly of sweat I have often travelled on tube trains with People who have showered in their chic wet rooms And have been forced to…

Eileen lived in Dorchester Avenue in Isleworth With her Mum and Dad She liked Isleworth and often visited the shops To see what was new and was about to be delivered For her second thirty-sixth birthday The kind manager at the local Tesco Express Let Eileen see the six storerooms in the store This made…

I often visited a retired sea captain who spent most of his bedridden days passing dried peas from one elliptical bowl to another When I asked him why he did this he told me it was to confirm the meaninglessness of his existence After thinking about his answer for a number of weeks I suggested…

I am surprised that he remembered me As we had only met briefly In the Portobello Road Many years previously But when he saw me in a shopping mall He greeted me like an old friend We chatted about our trips to America Before he was recognised by autograph hunters After we promised to stay…

I have a friend Who calls his sister Apricot Even though her name Is Jane His reason is that He is also called JANE And he does not want To cause confusion As both his parents were roadies

In a matter of an hour I visited three castles And a colourful rockery You may think That these are wild boasts Of a tired apricot But I can assure you That this is not true As ripe apricots Do not ride bicycles

On the last day of the war I shot an enemy soldier But I did not kill him He propped himself up Against a ruined wall And smiled sweetly at me As he knew he was dying I reached out and held His bloody hand And for the next hour We listened to the birds…