It is nearly dark now This the most beautiful Of all my remembered suns Is nearing its extinction There will not be a sixth sun

I met Malcolm Peters at the FGX and then he was gone Twenty years previously he had exposed corruption Within the highest levels of government Three politicians were assassinated by three radicals I poisoned the Prime Minister it was a quiet assassination Not violent and showy like the rest but just as deadly Sham the…

As the winter slowly faded I wrote these words In my heavily flowered diary Spring Starts at Six My ambition was meaningless It was a tired empty thought Which now as the April arrives Seems as vacant as this journey

Every Summer we drive South South-West To our pink and white Monila-Chess Caravan We try to follow the sun And understand the sea winds As we are situated beach side Amongst the rolling sand dunes It is a gentle idyllic location Which is much loved by my friends Robert Monica Kristof & Pal

Every day when I wake up I receive At least twelve photographs from my sister Of trains and mountains Of birds and bees Of giant valleys And verdant trees Sometimes I lose track of L’Wren She is lost in her mad voy-age

My sister is in Sri Lanka at present With her friends Su and Phill Yesterday they visited A tea plantation L’Wren sent me two photo graphs

We grew our hair long and tried To forget about our comfortable past There were no rules or ownership We were all free or so we thought Wes Banski was the first leave Followed shortly after by Purple Sue Wilma Jayne and Nelly Parks The construction workers treated us well And were for the most…

One day I will find the most evil of words

If you wear a mask for long enough Then it becomes your actual face

It is almost sparse With little or no Decoration Fading birds Perch on Fading branches Everything is in Decline Colourful petals Once beautiful Are now dour And without Reflection This year Has now Sadly died