Christopher Robin went down with Alice

to view the loo at Blenheim Palace

a stunning work of art to behold

remarkably it was made of gold.

They came upon a disorderly scene

holes in the wall where the pipes had been

how could anyone be so callous

to steal a loo from Blenheim Palace?

Christopher thought a lock would suffice

while contemplating paradise

but Al...

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There's an intimacy here

of tyres on gravel,

one must be ready for arrivals

but most episodes come to nothing

then the ignoring silence is complete.

Your chair still supports you

in its jacket of dull brown leather

no news in the lane today

nor any other day and yet

the sound persists, a memory

of wide sweeps on country house drives

a sad lament of murders in ...

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On metal steps he lost his life

left the keys in his cherished car

falling backwards struck his head

ascending to yellow council skips.

Appearing in the local press

a column and a photograph

a much respected electrician

constantly required, recently retired. 

Nobody could work it out

it just seemed so unfair,

but life and death are mysteries

that hide beh...

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When blood blends with grit

that's an end to it. 

Hope dies in the sand

while the fingers of dead hands

reach out to the blast of bombs

while another world looks on

weighing up expediency

decisions far greater yet no nobler

than mere life or death. 

These are easily measured by the mile

under the eyes and ears of drones - 

in the meantime

whi...

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Gone to the wasteland

the jobbing carpenter

with his bag of tools:

hammer chisels saw and rules,

gone too the roll-your-own

flat cap leather shoes

A to Z list of names

gone up in flames. 

Instead a man in an unmarked van

trousers with velcro panels

power tools the smell of pizza

mobile phone with battery on charge

prey to thieves always at large.

Th...

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A cloth cap on the ground inverted

becomes a begging bowl

guarded by a dog whose wants are sparsely served. 

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Imagine a tormentor - a sadist

invisibly at work, and though you have confessed

signed your life away you cannot be rid of him. 

There is no cure, no end to it, only moments of relief

when you can draw breath - and some comfort,

but that tormentor knows all the tricks

he has the permission of your immunity

condemning you like Judas Iscariot.

We call this rheumatoid art...

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