I’ll save a life this morning The value that of mine Your suit, my rags Blend into one Arrival just in time The fate that it’s my doorway That you pass by each day Sip from your cup Don’t look down Just look the other way So here we are, you’re ninety-nine. But I’m infinity. This CPR. Through rotten teeth. You’ll live because of me....... From the 'Lunatics & Space Age Watches' collection

A little Wednesday wordplay poem. - The Juggernaut. Taken from my 'Lunatics & Space Age Watches' series

So here I am I’m Eighty-two I’ve just sat down Next to you A quiet old man Past his prime Should I even be here I look just fine A name is called But it’s not mine I’m Albert Albert William Lodger An old codger A coffin dodger When my name is called I’ll ask if you will help me To door number two Behind sits Dr Cochrane Thumbing through My notes My medical history Which remains a mystery To him As it’s not mine I acquired it Sometime Reinvented myself Pulled a n

Perhaps these should never see the light of day..... But sod it. Sometime between then and now, I started writing poems. I didn't tell many people. Seemed safer that way. They've been sitting in a drawer ever since — or a digital equivalent, a folder you never open because you're not entirely sure what's in it and you're not entirely sure you want to know. Well. I've opened the folder. What I found was a watch thief called Harold, a child splitting atoms in a bog, a homeless