My Own Best Friend

Stooping down and listless still
the rain, the pavement scarried
the men they took my food and oil
and all that I had carried

I Found You

Princes priests and diplomats
are trying to explain
The times that we are living in
the rumbling in my brain

Bleed for Mary

It’s a recurring theme invading my senses
I’m lining up images all in a row
They’re blowing up bridges and cutting down fences
But I keep on moving but my moving is slow

My Leaning Frame

I have no room on my leaning frame
The seed that’s planted, in the ground
I have no mind for what lays behind
I put no weight on what others find
On the houses filled and so neatly lined
But to reach for the limits
of what I’ve found.

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Kia Ora. Sorry for the interruption but if you type your name and email address in the fields provided you'll receive my latest brain tumour scribblings as soon as they roll off the press. What could be better, other than good coffee in the morning, comfortable non-slip gumboots, peace in the Middle East, politicians who don't govern out of self-interest and a cure for all types of diseases, including, but by no means limited to, brain cancer.

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Subscribe to new Brain Tumour Posts

Kia Ora. Sorry for the interruption but if you type your name and email address in the fields provided you'll receive my latest brain tumour scribblings as soon as they roll off the press, so to speak. What could be better, other than good coffee in the morning, comfortable non-slip gumboots, peace in the Middle East, having politicians who don't govern out of self-interest and a cure for all types of diseases, including, but by no means limited to, brain cancer.

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