Too many holidays. Let's go to

Blackpool instead

 

A citadel, a red crescent, a wing

When oh when - tell me the fighting ends soon

Words weaving pictures

Wonderful windows on the world

 

Drink the water   Ride the 192

Round we go again, with these selections

Florid foreskins, tea-stained, tobacco

stained perhaps?

 

As the knife slides into diva flesh

Prince Charming cries into an Adidas shoe

The silence of the extreme, to the

judgement of the justice in fools

 

The 192 has diverted to the

Celestial Citadel. Untitle

 

All very inland same old Flim Flam

Stockport - Mock port more like. Finglands

Free-spirited souls beaming

Ardent streams of consciousness

mistaking fireflies for stars

just the other side of the moon

 

An honourable man walks amongst us

I was trapped in your orbit no sun today

I want to write a book 44 of them

I may have run out of Yen but I was trapped in your orbit

 

crescent moon

shines nervously in

at the dawn of dusk