The second in a series of many poems I wrote as part of a larger portfolio about the atrocities of the slave trade.

A poem about the living city, inspired by a trip to York.

Technologism is an Anarchist's poem, set to music & a blog about Western Government and Bank Poverty Machine.

Bloody minded memories, paper-plate faces                                  follow me. I paint on features - creatures of my creation. Red dead lips that kiss, and tickle my                  S

A poem about nature awakening in the first weeks of spring.

In the whispers of the sea sun-drenched memories play like waves on a forgotten shore, innocence captured in cadence...

The Ocean's Bounty The salt air kissed my face, the breath of the sea thrown up by the lap of the waves. The boat sailed on as I watched the horizon. Day waning, the sun burned low, the afternoon sweltered

A poem about the human costs of consumerism & the exploitation of other countries by the 'Corporate West'.

Spring born of Blossom is a free-verse (modern) poem describing the waking of spring born on the blossom's wings.

An ancient a Moldavian parable re-told in poetic form.

Modified using two images 1 by Victoria_Regen from Pixabay & Image 2 by Peace,love,happiness from Pixabay Reign Of Blood is a persona poem, written from the perspective of a ghost of one of the monks

Augmented Love is my attempt to write a love poem without resorting to any of the tired old clichés.

Photo by Dawid Zawiła on Unsplash I sing to the sea of winging gulls, gentle lulls on wave-churned hulls, and ships sailing endlessly. I listen to the mountains, wind-wounded granite bones ground down

A SoundCloud reading of my poem A Human Harvest which describes a chilling instance of nautical plunder.

Poem and blog about the nature of consciousness, personified through the life of the river.

A poem of hope written during the pandemic.

The salt air kissed my face, the breath of the sea thrown up by the lap of the waves. The boat sailed on as I watched the horizon. Day waning, the sun burned low, the afternoon sweltered aglow. I scanned

A SoundCloud reading of my poem A Human Harvest which describes a chilling instance of nautical plunder.

A poem about the awakening of nature in the first weeks of spring.

A poem of hope written during the pandemic.