25 Dec 2010


 Changing scapes, it wasnt long ago that i revisited the old rooftops of Berlin after spending a 

summer painting at the very heights, watching the rooftop chimneys blow and the factories pump

A slow change was all around you, very silently clear! although you were surrounded by the 

rambling berlin streets of friedrichain no sounds could be  heard above the buildings. But you 

could see silent movies all around you framed by windows, the stories of people indoors.
 
At the very top lay my old painting trays, it was too cold for that so we took some photos

using an old piece of heavy mirror to change the view of how a photo was taken


24 Dec 2010

"MADAM I'M ADAM"

 there was nothing they could do 
from his front door theyd have him cuffed,
the bus hatted man swings down upon him
not cuffs but the buff end of a baton across his crown
its just another misty day, with something going down

hed call his friends before their plastic floor courts,
But bound before the law, there was nothing they could do

they grabbed ten bags a dozen the next day,
and in that early mist wrapped around soap to clean
those dirty ovens away and the mean look of mean
and in those bags they wrapped those belongings 
for belongings to some walkers are the only things
that will talk for them,

He never came back for them, but sometimes
I swear we see him spitting in the waters beneath the old town bridge
spitting the colours of sweet pear drops,
TO THAT WE CAN DRINK TO

23 Dec 2010

DICING     AND     DODGING     THE     HONEY     COMB     ROADS    HOME,

THEIR   BONNETS   BULGED   WITH   TWISTING   METALLIC   TOYS   and

NEW PERFUME FOR THEIR QUEEN BABES, NEW COLOGNE FOR THEIR OWN


18 Dec 2010


im thinking about wishes
the wishes that are bad
where you say i wish i did this or that
rather than wishes for the future
invertebrates sucked out my spine
and replaced it with a shell 
to protect me from the seas
and stop them from eroding me

2 Dec 2010


they  cant complain  because  everybody  gets  the  same ,
or  so  they've  been  told . . . . they wake up and wear the 
same clothes in care of not to show homogenous blending
a uniform consistency . . . . . . . . . some more portraits a bit plainer






 A      portrait of      A

dealing    with    the

modermundo 






Leaving   the   trails  of   the   great   London  Underground ,
The traveler scrambled to the surface leaving him temporarily
blind by the morning sun, 20 long years left him with a head
of white hear and wrinkly skin . . . .  in his bags the magic
you could see it in his grin