« Posts under Poetry


I live in a place called Thompson Two,

Where all is battered and nothing new.


This goes quite well with the people here,

Whose minds are all entwined with fear.


We fear the outside; it’s tough to cope

Without the aid of a form of dope.


For some it’s H, coke or speed;

For some it’s arson, a perverted deed.


One is a vandal; another a queen.

One tried murder; another’s just mean.


And some just didn’t think their worth

Deserved to remain on this good earth. »Read More


Sharing crumbs,

He looked the part.


Weathered watch cap

Sat like a crown…

Inside out.


Battered T-shirt

Sought a chest…

Found a back.


Unshackled laughter

For a funny story…

No one told.


“Are you crazy?”

Screamed at aggressors…

Who did not exist.


Sharing his weakness,

And loneliness…

With cooing gray birds.


A role played

To perfection…

On the grounds of the cuckoo’s nest.