Decide the world's fate/nothing changes but the year/so who made YOU God?

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It runs amok inside my skull—
strutting arrogant, sure I'm dead.
It sneers when I reach for calm,
feeds on the static spill of thought.

It bleeds my eyes with morning news,
howls through the blue‑lit rooms,
reduces speech to chattered cue,
swells like bile up the throat of sleep.

We keep still, biding our time,
soaking in trumpet and slime—
each day the same counterfeit grace,
...

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windmills

the old windmills

in Spain, slowly turning

large cloth blades

turning and grinding

ancient grains of the past

lined up in a row on a hillside

waiting for Don Quixote

to mistake them for giants

with his sidekick Pancho

he attacked them

only to get his lance

caught in the canvas blades

thought he had been tricked

by an evil...

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(Song for politicians)

There's a...

Great view from my Ivory Tower

The window is frosted, but I still feel the power.

Got my...

Savile suite so I feel the part

But I like to pretend I got it straight from Primark

I feed my…

Flock through the magical lense

My sincere smile upon your telly transcends

And I'm…

Fully trained not to give a ...

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