My kind of exile

My kind of exile is
my kind of existence,
Neither here nor there,
Neither real nor unreal.
Like a ghost I am hovering between
Life and death,
Justice and injustice
while the blood ripples in the skull cap
that I am holding
And I blow a thigh bone trumpet to
Provoke a rampage,
The crowd surges
Toward FREEDOM.


Rest of poem available now on
http://www.amazon.co.uk/Jasmine-Revolution-other-poems-ebook/dp/B007WFHUZ4/ref=sr_1_1?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1335173063&sr=1-1

View through eye

Through its own eye
London is an erupted volcano,
Beaming embers litter
The landscape and
The Thames is flowing lava.

Big Ben resonates the mingling sounds
Of screams and laughter,
Bonuses and redundancies,
Profits and bankruptcies.

Muffled cries of repossession,

Rest of poem available on
http://www.amazon.co.uk/Jasmine-Revolution-other-poems-ebook/dp/B007WFHUZ4/ref=sr_1_1?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1335173063&sr=1-1