I’m caught up in the fog

I’ve got my hands out

Feeling my way like a blind man in a haze

Tap, tap, tapping my way along,

Through life.

I don’t really know what I’m looking for

But I keep searching

I’m like a blind man fumbling in the dark

And I sometimes think I need an instruction book

So I can be flick, flick, flicking,

Through life.

There are times; I ...

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How sick is it that I want to strip away all your new found happiness

Squeeze your memory dry of her

Rip open the healed stiches on your heart

And find myself sliding down, inch by inch

Making myself comfortable

In what is rightfully not

Mine 

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Threads

Thread:
If only he hadn't had freckles.
Thread:
If only he had been taller.
Thread:
If only he hadn't spoken with a lisp.
Thread:
If only he had liked playing football.
Thread:
If only he hadn't been so shy.
Thread:
If only the teachers had noticed.
Thread:
If only he hadn't worn shorts.
Thread:
If only he had liked pop music.
Thread:
If only he had said something.
Thr...

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Herringbone

The pallor of the parquet floor
Brings recollections of
School, its classrooms, its corridors

Somehow the pattern pulls
Me into a journey through
Time; conjuring images

Of art and assemblies,
Of laughter and lateness,
Of parents and pupils and plans:

For a future unknown;
For escaping the lessons
And the chill of those changing rooms.

A mishmash of memories,
But...

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i watch it all change and i sit back here like a child watching his parents argue across the dinner table not understanding a word waiting for it to change back or change into fireworks and butterflies but i don't know if it will. Because... It's all moved on, everything moves into and out of decay the circle of life is an ouroborus much bigger than i thought it spa...

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Mare's Tail

(By Paul A M Palmer)

"There's only one way to kill it:
You have to dig it out."

It's what they recommend,
The locals: they have the knowledge.

Scrape and scrape the top, spade against 
The turf and tufts of lichen and moss.

“You have to deepen the trench and then
Scrabble and search for the roots.”

Black and brown in the soily ground
Its fibrous tubes and tendril...

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There are these nights
like clockwork I find myself
ticking up stone steps
at the lighthouse

There are these nights
cloaked in melancholy
staring out, wide-eyed
across the freezing seas of time

There are these nights
I sit, quietly, by the lens
wondering of all the other nights
I have sat quietly wondering…

A thread of light stretches backwards 
through all my life
sewing toget...

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