Ste[PS of {St Stephen’s} green] #schizophrenality 

And postscripts sometimes help:

as I reach the moment 

when I can say “Job done!”,

I return to the start

of where my heart took off.

And now both my youngest

have futures 


ahead of them,

I can focus a little more on the things 

that made me sore.

The schizophrenality of state-governed 

sleight of hand:

over and 

above the right 

any org or peep ever did have 

to redirect the

life of any heart or soul.

We talk not of nudge in order to

budge intransigent world,

but the blunderbuss

of cracking nuts of considerable 


to satisfy the meagre mentality 

of awful governmentality.

This is where I now shall 

proceed: and heed me, right, if you can

at all.

Walls do not impress me, nor will they 

impede the ability I now have

to X-ray your 

souls, and reveal the inside 

which harkens back cruelly to 

a darkness of old.

I once loved you fine – 

but unattended and undrunk

it’s clear that wine went sour,

and anything our together might have 

one day meant for us 

is sadly hurt and 


And so as postscript to all that,

you know how deeply my feelings still run: 

but now it is time

well gone 

for me to get slowly up

and move slowly on.

Academia calls me, 

and the method of the cool –

in order that far better 

we fight the cruel

in the absence 

of your presence 

any more – 

is all I can focus on;

all I can see for me.

The evil ones are in my cross-

hairs now: and never

was there a man angrier to find out

and rout 

the bastards who destroyed 

the best, and left him

the rest to sicken on.