Trust and Betrayal:

Those evil, sly, slippery, slithering

Snakes crawl into your inviting

Open door – intent on doing

The most damage: lurking, lisping

Latched on to life’s bright, shining

Light and the pleasant scenes of 

Love’s forever-ness, and well blessed


What galls, and frightens

me, is: not a complete

Sentence about the work

I sent you – about your work

Which opens a lot of crevices

And cracks, which I must

Be careful not to fall into

There are so many opportunist

Sharks pretending to be Poets

It’s actually frightening


Especially when intent study

has shown – me – in

search of those ‘elusive’ footsteps

Real Poets and their poetry

Walk the identical road, and

Reconnoitre at the exact same place 


Watched snake, and searched

Every follicle, annoyed at his

Insistence – why should/ would he

Feign a complete world of pretence

Colour is not an optional choice

That road actually leads – and cedes

Dead-end exposure, signalling virtual

Misdemeanour – after all – he must

Have children, so terrified I make

mistakes and mine – don’t want them

To even entertain that idea

I may be false – well I’m not

Am I?  Unashamedly call a spade

Exactly that – a spade and

Visions of Florida’s Everglades

Those silent, creeping alligators

How they swallow innocent little

Babies whole, then go back into hiding …


Every word he writes – seeks one-way

Traffic, gushing; words of hallowed

recognition, not a whistled breath back

And his kids who slip off his

Track, will eventually

Realise: he’s just a burnt out, slippery

Old, pretentious double-dealing hack.