• Mist of Solution

    Well I'm out in the shire, there's no one, not even a Hobbit around, just some reflected image of a bedsit poet and I see that he's tied and bound.  The dark air is heavy, almost condensed, time and the ghosts of time are the only things that stirs, going nowhere in particular the bedsit trudges, racking his soul for some sort of answer, his one comfort being ...

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  • The Great Divide

    The Great Divide Mother son of a rich worldSixteen classic cars in the garageand three on the country estate drive Mother son of not a stich worldRailway overpass, a home, one hand on the begthe other sifting garbage, probably won’t see 25 The Great Dividethat separates, us and themThe sky and oceans wideblind ladies and blind gentlemen Mother son of a bitch world read more

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  • The Pain

    The Pain I've never known pain like it, in all my earthly years, as I look down from the ceiling, into a pool of tears Up four walls, I've climbedspoke to the spider between the cracksand was told: "Go seek your own kind" It huts more than a hearts beenbroken, from first thing in the morn, tolast thing at night, if I ever find what I ...

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