Duvet or not Duvet
that is the question
Whether ’tis nobler to grasp
the quilts and pillows of
Ophelia’s boudoir.
Or to trace her arms and heaving bosom
and by seducing to thrill,
to tie and to whip no more.
And by a cry to say we end
the hearthache, and the thousand natural
shocks that flesh is heir to;
‘Tis a consummation
Devoutly to be wished!




And my smelly shoes
keep me indoors
Smeared by the musty humidity of age
conscious of the self negating pusillanimous odours
And a single word announces 7 possible
destinations, tantalising…

But the death grip of sanity
indecision again

The fear of being here
cancelled by a fear of being near.
A strange familiar paralysis
unrecognised movement….


Drowned feelings
drowned by an emotional unconscious
Preventing propelling action ..

The Blues

We stepped outside for a little air.

She walked back in.

I pissed off to another joint.

Later that night we met up in

a downtown hotel.

We’d both been booked into the same room!

That’s the blues , MAN!