Tuesday, 20 April 2010

Hippies

Ashtrays and dead strawberries.

You can learn a lot about a man from the state of his ashtray
This is the ashtray of a man who kills strawberry plants even though they are on the kitchen windowsill. What on earth crossed his mind as he looked at them dying each time he washed up.

A friend suggested that he drank straight from the bottle or can and therefore never needed to wash anything.

The state of the ashtray confirms that.

Ruby.

Many years ago, after a divorce, well meaning friends would suggest 'suitable' new partners for me.

In order to avoid these embarrassing meetings I invented Ruby.

Some months later invention became reality and 'Ruby' entered my life.

Be very careful about what you wish for.

Clear skies.

Clear skies over England again.

On a normal day there would be a dozen planes in sight at any one time.

Where have they all gone?

I must buy a radio.

Thursday, 15 April 2010

Wednesday, 14 April 2010

Mary spanking Jesus.

Max Ernst

Lay-by picnic.


It always amazed me as a young man that most of my friends could find their 'niche' at such a tender age without exploring all the possibilities that life had to offer.

It's like picnicking in a lay-by just outside an enchanted wood.

I have been wandering that enchanted wood for the past 40 years.

I think I have found the place to sit for a while and feast.


Tuesday, 13 April 2010

When the bliss seed germinates and the next Event.

What a delicious day.

Took myself to Gusto in Westbourne Park Villas for breakfast. Surely the best almond croissants in London and the cannoli (?) are to die for; the most seductive things on the planet.

Now lunch next door at the Westbourne. A poets life is bloody tough sometimes.

We finally have a date confirmed for the next Event; it will be on the 18th of May at the Tabernacle, Notting Hill. I will post the flier when it is made. We have a fantastic line up.

Tristan promises to talk about love (or what love becomes when the bliss seed germinates) in dark places.

Can't wait.

Monday, 12 April 2010

Birthday Poem


I sit here at my loom
Penelope to my own Odysseus
unpicking life's tapestry by night
embroidering by day
Constantly on the lookout
for a white sail on the horizon.

Is he with Circe or Calypso tonight?