Life
I adore,
I cry
when I hear
of war.
Each tear
asks "why
more
strife?"
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Life I adore, I
cry when I hear of war. Each
tear asks "why more strife?"...
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RIP, Ennio Morricone. Not just Enniold composer.
Thank you for providing the soundtrack to my life, x
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(The Mail published a lengthier version of my tribute
to him, which I would normally record here, but they
bastardised it so much, I'll give it a miss, thank you.)
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Trump / Pence: utter incompetence. Better still,
don't utter it. Shout it from the rooftops - so Boris
can hear, and maybe learn...
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Who doesn't like a 3-liner? (Quite a few of you don't, apparently.) Well, I'll have you know that many a critic has said of my work "at least it's in English" - and as for the great Stephen Fry, he once said of me "Vincent who?" Let's just say I supply the litter to the litterati [sic - but only at times] - ie: I write rubbish. But rubbish mostly inspired by the HAIKU, the 17th Century Japanese verse form consisting of 3 lines and 17 (5-7-5) syllables. (WARNING: flash photography and limericks)
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