ah!

I am annoyingly museless.

have been this way for so many months. Bereft. I stay away. Lost.

Stories filter into my mind via ears clogged by decades of abuse and I am so tired and I have nothing to say.

I am a solution seeker, sneak peaker, needing some purpose my 24/7. A lttle taste of heaven.

Tommorrow morning I will start anew and in ernest.

Poor Ernest!

and his handbag too

ridicluous chorus long remebered dismembering my heritage with its post dad army funk.

dunk that donut , boy, dunk.

Flunk
punk
stunk.

my child, never fear, I am here!

oh god, a muselss poet is a sad and puerile waste of the green earth good free air.

bye  bye my love

despair
repair
compare