Madness Calling – a poem

Intimations of madness that lasted

For years long along the way, en

Route spoken in ways too wrong

Too many times, seen as regular,

Hollow-voices noting nothing at all

Unusual in a paradigm powerless.


Futile to affect change, only brought

About over decades, a dry voice cackle

That calls of old days, a numbers game

Lost in international trade, rare forgotten

Despite the mad distance, yet how few

Acolytes know the fall of a saviour’s




Misguided – a poem

Whispers of the long dead suffer silently

For wants of their former lives, those

Shouts of the entitled living call harshly;

Streams lost amidst the clamour for more.


Belief subliminally given to a cause

In which deception plays a great part

To draw more than is its lot appointed

Is yet just a propped up, sordid loyalty.



Something’s Changed – a poem

Something has changed, eternal shift ever

Of paradigm to new design, unintentional

Moments segue from style to fact when

We are not looking, twist and turn slightly

From the mainstays we once knew.


A tiny touch of coolness in things

Which was absent before, drawn

Into being by circumstance, natural

Motions made in life’s course, force

Of alienation badly unexpected.


Perhaps this is the way things work,

Which we do not expect to develop

Within those social storm systems, tided

Over by weathering these conflictions

Of pressure collections, cooler and calmer;

A tropical new world outside, warm.


Home – a musing

All journeys have an endpoint, a final part, and now I embark on this one.

Approximately 2 weeks in Portugal were followed by the scattering of my grandmother’s ashes in the river. She was named for one of India’s rivers, after all.

2 trains will take us back to Birmingham, then a bus to home. I am tired, so very tired…but the experience has an end.

*feeding the ducks and swans post ash scattering

Running Out – a musing



Today I write of a strange vitality, the harsh wonder of experience. I am running out of painkillers, in a manner I had not anticipated, and while on a family holiday.

Having misjudged my situation I now have 7 Tramadol remaining. Aching from various mental stresses the day before yesterday (yes, mental stuff becomes physically manifest) I attempted buying Cocodamol here in Portugal…but left with strong Ibuprofen instead. Turns out you need a prescription for Coco.

Now I am down to rations.

I had thought I was doing well. No Cocodamol for months now, days off the herbal painkiller Kratom, as well as reduced doses. I brought none of it with me this holiday. I still do not think doing so was a mistake but I did badly miscalculate my needs.

To try and remedy it I had an extra Prozac yesterday. I know, I know, it has longer term effects, but based on how much of the holiday is left I thought the extra Serotonin would help my many pains.

Wish me luck.


WASP – a holiday musing


Today I break with the usual programming to bring you something different. Instead of the usual poetry (or cheeky vape ting), today’s post is on something else.

On holiday in Portugal for the 2nd time with family, I have taken the opportunity to photograph the graffiti when I can. This graffiti is salient because I have not been able to figure or find out what it means.

No further explanation

(but feel free to tell me!!).

Enjoy the pictures.