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When I was a child…

When I was a child, I was speaking as a child, I was led as a child, I was thinking as a child, but when I became a man, I ceased these childish things. 1 Corinthians 13:11


For 3 years I have been on a RELAPSE, of epic proportions. Overcome by anger, hatred, loathing, despite and fear, slandered, beaten and abused, I sought refuge in  old patterns of behaviour. Assailed by haters and liars, I became everything they wanted the world to perceive me as -almost-.

This time has passed away and now I will show them the me they hate and fear. The powerful me, the compassionate me, the strong man!

I will become as the phoenix… Reborn from the ashes of my old life…

So let it be written. So let it be done!

I love and miss my son…


 I have never been as proud of anything as I am as of you….

“You Needed Me”

I cried a tear, you wiped it dry
I was confused, you cleared my mind
I sold my soul, you bought it back for me
And held me up and gave me dignity
Somehow you needed me

You gave me strength to stand alone again
To face the world out on my own again
You put me high upon a pedestal
So high that I could almost see eternity
You needed me, you needed me

And I can’t believe it’s you I can’t believe it’s true
I needed you and you were there
And I’ll never leave, why should I leave, I’d be a fool
‘Cause I finally found someone who really cares

You held my hand when it was cold
When I was lost, you took me home
You gave me hope when I was at the end
And turned my lies back into truth again
You even called me friend

You gave me strength to stand alone again
To face the world out on my own again
You put me high upon a pedestal
So high that I could almost see eternity
You needed me, you needed me
You needed me, you needed me

Free Gaza.


As a man who has been physically and emotionally abused, lied about to remove my access to refuge and denied access to my child as a punishment for leaving, I am surprised more men don’t speak out. Some women use a man’s abhorrence of violence-against-women as a weapon of terror. I know!

Fuck ‘em…..

Me and Bessie Head..

She was born in an asylum, I was abandoned in a convent. She was a mixed race child in south africa, I was the child of an under-age irish mother, left in a convent in Wimbledon.
She knew nothing about her past or her family and neither do I. She had a son, the only human connection she had and an inherited mental illness, coupled with alcoholism that ate her up. Me too..
She displayed all the signs of the psychotic ( we are charming and able to form short relationships, but become dis-associative when offended) however she was blessed with people who tried to understand her nature and her pain.. And I was left with white people…

When I look back over the 20 years I was homeless, it is the people who could least afford to help and support me, that did. The people who could most afford to help me – with 2 exceptions; meg lewis and john jones- didn’t..

It was the London underclass who raised me from destitution and homelessness, it is this class that continue to provide a sense of community. No matter how hard I worked to tend the friendships in my garden, people either took advantage or thought me to be ‘after something’..

Only the poor know how to share…

In the words of Atisa, I say, there is nothing to be learned here and I am no teacher. You are not a student. I do this solely to perfume my own mind.

When you suffer from depression,

people think you’re Moody.

When you are Food Restrictive,

they assume that you’re a ‘foodie’.

If you can’t hold down a job,

You’re accused of being lazy.

Even though the reason is,

Arseholes drive you CRAZY.

The clever say you’d be better,

if you went out for a walk.

Professionals think you’d be helped,

if you’d sit down and talk.

There is a very simple way,

to deal with those like me!

And it costs very little,

A kind word, a cup of tea…

Every 6 months or so my mild ‘Autism Spectrum Disorder’ and my ‘Depression’ conspire to bring on a period of sub-psychotic rage followed by near-catatonic depression.
Normal people who have been ignored in the street by someone they have known for over 35 years, would be offended.
However, being left standing in the middle of the A316, shouting ‘pete, pete, PETE!, AND LOOKING AND FEELING LIKE A RIGHT CUNT, affects the autistic..
We take slights and insults very personally, every time we are ignored, abused, slandered or hit, we suffer, fret, worry and brood, for it serves to remind us that we were never good enough. Not as a child, a friend, a partner or a parent.

We don’t want to be adopted but a kind word and a cup of tea goes a long way.

Be gentle with the mental, for we’re human too…

too many good ideas…


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