Archivo del blog

sábado, 11 de septiembre de 2010

The London Egg


The London Egg.

See how he rolls,
Such guile and such spirit,
The Old London Egg,
So wry and so with it.

Watch how he turns,
The assertive round beast,
The Old London Egg,
On our souls do you feast.

martes, 17 de agosto de 2010

jueves, 15 de julio de 2010

From the stars to the gutter.

I went to festival and this is what I found between the scheduled entertainment.....

A bright new start to the day.

If your hand has been mutilated by a bull, best sleep it off under a tree.

Carrying the weight of s thousand beards.

Hello cheeky.

Make yourself at home love.

To avoid disappointment, never sleep in a urinal.

Not ideal, but better..

A horrible nightmare.


It's all too much for some.

From the stars to the gutter.

And back again.

And finally, least but most definitely not last......

sábado, 3 de julio de 2010

Just another day in the park.
Sponsored by adidas...
I like the park.
So does my wife.
She's got the whole park ahead of her...

lunes, 15 de marzo de 2010

martes, 2 de marzo de 2010

Cool spring evenings and dark sordid nights

Mas Amor: More Love.
Yes Please! LOL

Spring is here and my terrace is the place to be ladies.

Somebody told me today that I was a poet . And who would have thought, I didn't even know it.
You know who you are. x


This one goes out to my lady.

This one's for all my single ladies.
All my single ladies.

This one goes out to all my concubines.

And here it is ladies...............
Big, isn't it?

(The terrace)

Tune in next week for more scintillating shots.

P.s. LOL!

sábado, 27 de febrero de 2010

A very Spanish hangover

Another plane flies over head.
A man is angry with a ball.
The bench I am sitting on is wet.

The match is slow.
The men are fat.
Another plane passes over.

A fence, a wall some plastic grass.
Buildings, cars, property.
An infinitely baffling amalgamation of things and concepts formed over the course of the world's long history, repeating themselves in a seemingly endless cycle finally come together and culminate in this:

Men chasing leather.

Men I know nothing about.
Who is that man leaning against the goalpost?
Its Dan.
How did Dan get here?
What's his story?
And why that goalpost?

I held back the last question when I talked to Dan after the game.
He is from London.
He speaks Slovenian.
But what was he like as a boy?
Why is his nose bleeding?

Another plane.
I have to come on.
The shirt I'm wearing is moist with another mans sweat.
He has a hairy back.

I score a goal.
Terry congratulates me.
I am being patted by the unfamiliar hands of unfamiliar men.

Another plane passes over.
I stand still.
The world moves around me.

Another plane.
Another profound afternoon.
Time to go home.
I will be back.