A Travelling Bird
Flitting across the waves and shallow straits,
With ecstasy she glides in graceful flight,
From lands afar, from royal kingdoms borne
High mystery beyond the common sight.
Hardily formed, a ball of beak and bone
Thy size shall never match thy wisdom sought
By lowly souls forbidden yet to know
And break the crest of animated thought.  (age 10; In praise of Hardy's, Shelley's and Keats's dickies)
Down On The Ones
Here lies the dust of time spent cast
In forms of regulated lives,
Moulded by the mass have past
The ones the mass could not drive,
When games are played then men must die
If wrong hands hold the gambling dice
Then history will ever lie,
With shields and spears can’st ne’er entice
The free to end their search in vain,
Reward the patient ones with gold,
When dying echoes Life’s refrain
Man may one day know or be told.
Here lies the dust of some man’s dream
They turn their own to mix with strife,
Plagued with sorrow will ever seem
They cannot win the game of Life. 
Earth, Wind & Fire
Yea, see how Time here waits for seas of men,
So rich stagnation grips and vices flow,
Drown the boiling steam of fiery tension,
Quenched and branded glister not all that’s gold!
Row not this way but inspiration find,
Steer not to Midas and his foaming froth,
And don the phoenix from the ashes heaped,
Escape the system stale from winter rain.
Oh let me taste my brew with bubbles hopped,
And savour home deliver me anew,
These hierarchal apes, this medicine show,
This keg of bondage over-gangrened.
Estimate the rapture – I’ll unveil the day –
Where stems all hope, matured fruits we will be,
Forgiveness not the commune dragged us down
And made us slaves of animosity.
Like flautist fools play many freedom blues,
Renaissant winds soar o’ the minaret,
Crush the blind ogre reins that cancer trial,
Torpid muscle tasks by oligarchy rule.
Caress the buds of sanity and dream
Along the drudging hours packed and lonely,
Rich in degraded regimented solace,
Until the sun sets on this demon grave.
Convict not those who aspired innocence yet
Were mistracted oft to younger years, forget
You dare the seeds of seers who really strew
And cast down stars that were not their own.
Quiet heroes stand like statues stompen,
Bloom and rapture forth don thy smile and leave,
Flaunt the virtues that lie like flowers crushed,
Should not they change this calculated doom.
Parade through rain and sweat through steam bring home
These riches past are but a sleeping dream,
The hope that binds our thoughts must reap one day
Then on, all Hell will loose some day we’ll see.
Yet what I lack in concrete virtues still
To muse tastes sweet where all else fails to please
Like gods on trial our shackled chains are borne
Fools only hope, not we the walking dead.
Bleed where they cut and shield all stones they throw,
Stifle every truth, they don a wolf’s disguise,
Remains the mile be doubled yet may help
Those souls who tred this way for sorrow sake.
A college of traits canker, rot and lie,
Abandoned hope corrupts Life’s rancid race,
Where fool’s gold gluts the promise dies
Of Life, refined and false, fits not your face. [1981-2]