Long ago and far away….in a mysterious land that time had conveniently forgotten. Man, this Corona blues shit can seriously give a fella the blue, blues. In the beginning the pandemic had the advantage of the novelty factor and the summer time, but now in the bleak mid-winter it had morphed into one long, depressing endless drag. Tier this and tier that, can’t do this, can’t do that. Shit, I was beginning to feel like a naughty school kid all over again. And fuck it, with all the travel restrictions I couldn’t even jet off to some remote island in the sun, and anyway word on the vine was that rich fuckers had already bought up all the available islands on the planet, so they could happily swing in a hammock, whilst everyone caught the pox and pegged it.
So, I had the blue, blues, the climb to the top of a tall building and jump blues. And then something unexpected happened. Somewhere on the other side of the planet a fellow artisan had been hard at work producing something beautiful. A craft item that would gladden any sorry poets bleeding heart. And what was that something beautiful I hear you bawl? Check out the pics below, my 7th collection of poetry – She Moves Through The Fair – Kilmog Press 2020. Nothing more needs to be said, so nothing more will be said.
Grab a copy here: She Moves Through The Fair
Milk Race fanatics. Stay frigid. This Super 8MM eyeball exploder is from my Top Gun room, the finest of the finest. One, two, one two, I will find a way, to get to you someday, ooh but babe I’m so afraid I’ll fall, yeah, now can’t you hear me call…Shake some action’s what I need, to let me bust out at full speed….