Displaying posts published in

May 2010

Morpeth Yesterday.

Hey, . I am up early again today but somewhat dissapointed to be met with these familiar dark grey skies and rain once more, especially after the promise of yesterday. Everything is all go at the moment now that Big H is picking up a bit. Because it was a nice sunny day on thursday, […]

Poem: Let’s Get Rid Of Planes.

Let’s Get Rid Of Planes. . . Airlines are not green at all Their pollution’s in the red, If you can fly on wings of song Let’s just do that instead. . .

The Place Where Dracula Landed. Whitby.

Hey Peeps, . What a magnificent day we have here. It is everything that you could wish to see in the middle of May, with blue skies, no clouds and a wealth of sunshine. Long may it last! . Last weekend Big H and I were watching something that mentioned Robin Hood’s Bay, which is […]

Poem:The On Switch

The On Switch. . . This feeling is so rare That it comes, like a lover, Into a place of normality Where it switches on the light To illuminate and recolour The average brilliance of life To a scene in dazzling neon. . .

The Execution of Ruth Snyder. Jan 12th 1928.

Hi, . I was fascinated to see a picture taken by a reporter named Tom Howard, who worked for the Chicago Tribune. . The day was January 12th in 1928. A convicted murderer called Ruth Brown Snyder was executed in Sing Sing Prison after being found guilty of the murder of her husband Albert Snyder. […]

Tuesday’s Child.

Hey, . Up once more to connect with you in the earlier hours. . I went to bed a bit early last night so that I could read my book in a bit of peace and quiet as Big H was watching a weird film called ‘The Dancer Upstairs’, I think. He was interested to […]

Poem: You Know What They say.

You Know What They Say. . . No good coming to me To ask what you should do now, She has heard everything from everyone. Except for you of course, Still oblivious to the totally obvious, So obviously you are doing yourself A large amount of bloody damage. You need to finally face up to […]

Poem: Graffiti.

Graffiti. . . I love graffiti when it is well done, To me it is like folk art. The only problem is That more often than not It is total mindless bloody crap . .

Poem: Just Laundry.

Just Laundry. . These sheets and pillowcases Have just come out of the wash Looking as fresh as they did When I bought them in a sale, They have been creased and soaked Beneath our dampened bodies On oh so many passionate nights But no one else would ever think it.

Poem: Satisfaction.

Satisfaction. . , There is not much amusement In a closed life of sickness and dependency But there is a definite satisfaction In the knowledge of a job well done . .