Finally managed to have a chat with my future self last week
Adam 2020 told me to follow my heart, live for the day, and other platitudes
Whereupon I pressed him for details
He says I should wank and smoke less, take women seriously – especially my wife – and spend more time with the little B’s
He also encouraged me to make more money as he was tired of being almost poor
After some other literary gems (I promised not to share) he told me I’d always been conceited
I poked him in the eye, kicked him in the nuts and shot his left big toe off
So now I’ve got that to look forward to, too
Sung long and round o hills
How high and vast your tracks
Hang low break slow o hills
Dip your grand hat high sun
Here’s a phantastic pamphlet.
The Capricious Tales of August Stock.
A 12 chapter poem.
You can buy a digital version from Kindle here for £1.99 ($3).
Or you can download a pdf for free here.
It’s the story of a journey of a man.
There are questions, love (sic), community and pain.
August Stock starts out dissatisfied, falls out of love, and then rambles on to new horizons. Will he find his peace? Will anyone let him?
You too can find out here!
I welcome feedback.
with a big
and worldly head:
She was ever so exciting
as she took them all to bed!
The tramp and then the scoundrel
and the drunkard
then the thief –
She was always more than welcoming
to poor souls; poor lost sheep.
Her light was spent in luxury;
in a gift crammed flat she lay,
while more people brought her ideas –
how to best avoid the day!
And though the drug-squad
(dressed in riot garb)
would wait outside her door
this life was so exciting
she just could not help want more!
Faithful? True she was not
but that matters hardly here
’cause her life flew by so hot –
If she stayed too long
A little like tonight,
Your frame again
Ssent back the light
Your glazed over –
Thoughtless sight -Thirl raymon su
Lost in brain’s quiet
Turned through almost
Pouring through died hair
In green hearts
Let the flames
Fan cheeks fire red
O hah love
In green hearts
On the deep enamel blue of
this chill February night
I trace a path through puffs of clouds
that mask in part this urban starlight
the route my eyes scan down these avenues in space
Are interrupted, lazily, by droning night flights