An Unclaimed Son

Marked out as something that did not belong, An oddball with a number not a name; A newborn whose hereditary was wrong, And with ancestry that was not the same. Who is it that must shoulder all the blame, The father and his lustful, wandering eye Or na├»ve child all swaddled up in shame? A … Read more

These Flying Beasts Are Hooked on Junk

The white storks glide across the sky, Migrating south in times gone by; But now like Burroughs in his funk, These flying beasts are hooked on junk.   Whilst landfill sites our eyes detest, To these bleached birds they are a nest; A place that they can rear their young, Amongst the piles of human … Read more

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