avec moi, sans moi,
Ahh… and the tales I shall unfold
May blast comprehension if the truth be told
An ode to the masters, martyrs and whims
A satyr on life and sullied daydreams
London © 2016 Designing Futures
aut viam inveniam aut faciam
I'll either find a way or make one
Constant rock shifting metaphor lenses
Straight talking exacts
Crashes across the shore
Agencies' shame dark shadows of
Pan optic internal spasms
External tremors the storms
Hand in hand out the sky
Stars reign in fire and ice
Temp' time and response
Rivulet streams by spires
Hand in hand up the cross
Seas on ward rounds
(17th May ‘15)
He is a sky I fly in
The cover of night
The sheets that warm me
A reason for flight.
bis vincit qui se vincit in victoria
he conquers twice who conquers himself in victory
"I don't like you," she said.
"Why not?" he said.
"Because you're a bit of a git," she said.
"What do you mean?" he said.
She walked off. A bit.
So did he.