Ravenheart

In the swinging sixties a sexpionage spy scandal took place called the Profumo Affaire unfortunately two of its players were amateurs and didn't know what the rules of the spy game were ; one was sacrificed as a scapegoat and the other Christine Keeler lived life under a long dark cloud until she died and all because they were enlisted by MI5 into taking part in a Russian honey trap for Queen and country which went dramatically wrong . Dr Steven Ward a brilliant osteopath and gifted portrait artist was demonised and double crossed to the point where he took his own life with an overdose of sleeping tablets the poison chalice , Baron Profumo who was the cause of it all retired in disgrace cleaning toilets and working for a charity where he was eventually awarded an OBE to pin next to the MBE and bronze star that he'd won as a military hero in the war . A wax statue still stands of Steven Ward in the house of horrors at Madame Tussauds a terribly cruel homage to say he was only doing what the British secret ser

Growing up in a witches coven with all them casting spells over everything and everyone. I couldn't understand the stars then or now  , they  were always fighting for the Sorceresse's supremacy .

A musing about our Star Trek scientists who make it sound like our intergalactic fate is just a walk to the subway or through a nearby subatomic Stargate .

William marwood's long drop solution, brought about a revolution in the British Empires approach for delivering and dispatching a more humane method of execution .

A poem about a very beautiful woman called Claudia who's powerful persona ricochete around us like a midnight thunder , on first meeting she would still and seduce ya with her silent stare of medusa .

A poem I wrote for the everso beautiful Lindsay who is leaving after 11 years she brought her LGBT spirit and colour into our drab fifty souls of grey community bombing us daily with vivid wondrous paintings she takes with her an extraordinary feng shui losing her is like the loss of a perpetual summer's day , artist are the community take them away and you kill it's soul you're left with empty plastic people with tarmac tongues and concrete craniums.

A musing about giving your offspring a strong polysyllabic sounding name something that will inspire them to aspire towards fortune and fame .

Le poeme en francais the language of love. Forgive my French it's been twenty-five years since I was there. A poem about love and women should always be in the feminine form hence why I use La poeme instead of Le masculine ,it sounds and lends it's self much more to L'amour which of course can be masculine in the singular or feminine in the plural. Entree L"androgyne et l"ambiguite'

The macabre story about a great grandmother who's ashes were made into a bone china plate by her broken hearted lover the practice of using powdered human bone in pottery still continues to this day with artists such as Crow and Kraft who call it crafting Cremains .

Covid 19 as seen through the eyes of a squirrel watching them  fighting for scraps from the dustbins whilst under lock down they appear so confident and carefree without us I think possibly the only thing they've missed about our absence is the leftover Ben and Jerry's ice cream .

This is a poem about the complacency of people and their attitudes towards the temperature rise of two degrees you'd think that the powers that be were waffling about a couple of cream teas or the price of peas, some have the audacity to blame the up and coming new economies such as the Chinese after we have been pumping out the smoke and sleaze since the early 1750's others think that it's just a temperature tease and come the next year we'll all be back to the big freeze I don't know what it's going to take to move the world's most powerful trustees maybe when it begins to back flush the drains up around everyone's knees .

Greta has an almost impossible sales pitch she's to demand that the incredibly rich dumped that expensive pieces of kitsch , they fly to the cop out climate meetings in their lear jets and show not the slightest hesitation of any regrets, her gargantuan glitch is to try to move these people towards the green dream of a beggars itch, but these dinosaurs who block destiny's drawbridge are mega rich and have no intention of surrendering any of their Kardashian kitsch. To quote Churchill sardonically, , "Never was so much owed by so many to so few".

A prick of our precious pride is all that's needed to derail and deride our sensibility into taking a walk back onto its wild side .

It's very difficult to understand the parable of the prodigal son but remember what you're dealing with is someone just above a bowery bum who will squander everything and leave you in distress and destitution then he will move on to find more money to squander into piss powder and prostitution .

A poem written for a sibling son whose quest for frolic and fun wedge hatred in-between his brothers love by what he'd gone and done , it's difficult to understand the parable of the prodigal son especially if you're looking through the eyes of the other hard working one who through restraint and strive hath managed with diligent life toiled and tilled the farm in order to fill empty bellies and winter barn now back without a crumb returns the squandering sibling pun doubtless to take the family fortune for yet another hit an run better remember this of the prodigal son who fritted away everything from dad and mum let him now work to the rise and fall of a burning sun whilst you yourself seek out some frolic an fun

Listening to these waffling old windbags wheezing about saving our world they quaff down wine squandering ten pounds a glass and then dare to set the price of carbon capture at three pounds a ton and this to save your granddaughter or grandson ?.

This is a poem i wrote about the catastrophic creations cause through having too much cosmetic surgery leaving so many a patient in the perpetual state of a reconstructive purgatory the surgeons are called the picasso's of the plastique, well they certainly end up with a foot an mouth or a tongue-in-cheek , they sculpture and scalpel at something that once started out as the face of the fantastic but by the final phase come cut you're left with a gargoyled freak.

When children acquire their first language they sing like a fresh fledgling on the first day of spring with that easy natural swing which to them is a brand new play thing without any restraining ring , their simple melodic crooning needs no interference or fine tuning but unfortunately school comes along with its lexicon Lego box tongue "dislexicating " what was once a beautiful song leaving that innocent syllable swing broken as a veritable birds wing the kids then become too frightened to fly and drag their dislocated diction around in a sling untill eventually as teenagers they at last cut loose from the apron string and once again begin to sing.

a musing about an artist girlfriend and her crazy cultural crew, their works of art or gestation periods of genius seem to take as long as those of a real pregnancy .

Another crazy  sketch about the life of Thornton Harding the junior an aristocrat who's mad about his pets , he calls them by the strangest names, such as his dog , Greyfriars Warton Benson who i might add is allowed to do anything including sitting in his master's lap and driving his car.