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New York in the '80s: The Cry of the Abyss

Facing the abyss, I see the crime
The city bared to its dark mime
Crime’s the mirror of misery shown
A lament in minds, forlorn and alone

Streets stage a silent, somber play
Where spilled blood speaks of more than decay
It’s the soul torn by indifference’s might
And the law, once justice, fades from sight

The poor, martyrs to their cruel fate
Trade their dignity for crumbs on a plate
...

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Many Penny Go, Go, Go Days

Yikes. Life is busy and hectic and I am not complaining.

I've done loads, simply great expanding handbags of stuff since I was able to poke my head and fingers in here. Of course I've returned in part to show off. Oh be kind to me!

Tomorrow I am on Radio Four's 'Four Thought' at 8.45pm, and thence forever they tell me, on the iplayer. How scary. I get to ramble on about human identity f...

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911 Tribute Poem

What did it achieve, bar hatred
And indeed if that was its aim
It did not build the hatred they thought
We don't hate all Moslems the same
Some fools do, but not us all
So it failed, the bombers dream
We know the majority are just like us
And the terrorists from the extreme.

Some s...

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