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Back To Blank

3 Jun

I’m happier with t his one than the last.

By Luck Of Birth

3 Jun

By luck of birth

I live in a place

Where guns are not thrust in my face.

Don’t see the homeless on the streets

They’re probably  there,

Just never meet

The neighbours are quite well-to-do,

Obliged to ask me

‘How are you?’

I’ve never even seen a fight

Or been scared to walk alone at night,

Faced the fear of violence or rape

Play dead or run? To contemplate.

Over here we don’t go hungry

Veggies, fish, meat and fungi

Adorn our plates and fill our tummies

For paper with Queens head called money.

I don’t want to paint an incomplete picture

Racism, unemployment – permanent fixtures,

We’ve been burgled twice in our house

Hood-rats, neither man nor mouse.

This place i live is far from perfect

All sorts here;

Some wasters, some worth-it.

For the most part it is safe

People worry about their clothes, their weight

Not if this day they’ll survive

Lucky enough to get home alive.

By luck of birth

I live here

Not somewhere for my life I’d fear.

By luck of birth

Think again

By luck of birth

You, not them.

Video

On Blogging: From The Sublime To The Ridiculous

2 Jun

My Island In The Sun

24 May

Times Like These (Baby Peter)

19 May

He was just a baby boy with blue eyes and blonde hair,

If ever there was proof this life is just not fair:

His was so unhappy and his death so meaningless,

His arms reached out for comfort from a picture in the press.

 

All over this country: in pubs, kitchens and classrooms,

An angry British public asked angry British questions,

Of social workers, teachers, doctors and MP’s;

How could this have happened? How in times like these?

 

When i heard the news that night i cried myself to sleep,

Never knew such precious human life could be so cheap.

No God i know could let a baby live and die like that,

No comfort in this cold cruel world,

No way of going back.

Photography Archives – Some Very Old Pictures

19 May

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Who Am I?

19 May

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ImageImage

Image

Self?

19 May

Self?

No Title

19 May

Deep scars to.

My thighs.

Scars deep in.

My Eyes.

Plagued skies.

Fucked me.

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