Saturday 15 May 2021


Vainly optimistic I was
believing my life
would be long, eternal even
and dotted with successes
to be proud of
so I'd be worthy in the eyes of someone
and therefore, above all, be loved.

Now, my sole task's to find
some hope to cling to,
such craving for a little more time
to live, a miracle -
because such things 
can happen if we truly believe in them.
And I so, so want to survive.

The arbitrary onslaught
of rogue cells predict my demise:
the ultimate conflict
between tainted flesh and sharp scalpel.
Oh let me be brave and dwell
not on dying, nor on giving up - but on victory,
on finally defeating the enemy within...

I'm going into hospital on Monday to have an operation. I hope to visit you all again soon.
In the meantime...have a great week, my dear friends 😊😊 xxx

Friday 7 May 2021


A complicated mind
shaped my destiny.
That same mind fed me
the many untruths
that bred my myriad phobias.
Why did I never question them?

When I ventured out into the world
I saw only reflections
of another's paranoia.
Society was a forbidding concept
filled with dangerous pitfalls, so I feared
every shadow, mistrusted every stranger's smile.

Later, within my poetry,
that mind's unfulfilled dreams found expression
in a kind of mournful angst. It also
laced my relationships with a deadly poison:
"Men are the enemy. Never trust them!"
Self fulfilling prophesy. Inward struggle.
Who am I really?

Now, sometimes I question
if it ever was that other mind at all,
but was actually mine all along.
Other times, I wonder if it could be
a genetic anomaly in my psyche
that so warps intuition and fuels
my quest for the inexplicable, the
impossible ideal that other mind
spent a lifetime seeking
yet never ever found.
Have I, indeed, become my mother?

Is it possible that these thoughts
running through my head - these, now,
originated in another mind
that is continuing to influence me
from beyond the grave?

Or is it simply that I am cursed
with the kind of mind that thinks too much? 😉

Saturday 1 May 2021


Silence gnawed at you. And the terror
of being betrayed: a threatening dark enemy,
the piercing indifferent
destruction of bloody battle sword. After
the glowing sunrise, these were
the emotions that beset you. They filled
my vacant space, and when self-esteem
eluded you, this torment
took it's place. But I
was probably on the beach, just sunbathing
with Anna, no more immoral intent in me
than in the illicit lover
I'd never even imagined. A real lover
may have felt uneasy,
left with haste
when the grotesque malignance of your mistrust -
half victim, half inquisitor, totally
illogical and stuffed with your unexpressed past hurts -
crept relentlessly without hindrance
towards me through the sunlit streets,
through the crowded car park,
tainted my sun oil in it's brown-tinted bottle
and angrily glared at me
with the unjust accusations
that were rapidly becoming the norm.

My double life - the life you have invented
for me inside your head - is comically erotic,
is lived by an effigy wearing my face.
Monstrous allegations and emotional blackmail
have become the story of my life.
And the steps to our front door
have grown into a daunting,
treacherous mountain
that I no longer have the will to climb.