A Social Worker by qualification, an Aspie by diagnosis, and sane by assumption.
For proof, read THIS

  • Joined: July 2008

Journal

manning the fort, fighting off the attacking 'Indians' of my mind.

The sky is steel-grey, as it has been mostly for weeks, showers fall and pass with relentless monotony, days pass into weeks, and I wait – in the house I once called home, but has not been home for many years. I wait for either a phone call from my father to hear news of my sister who is gravely ill, or for his return home. / Home… it has been about six weeks now since I left mine, lo…
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A twisted ‘perfect’ world

…does that mean that in some kind of (or someone’s) ‘perfect’ world, everyone would be white males… who are all exclusively heterosex…

Beyond the normative

Those who are normal to themselves, yet are outside the confines of what is considered to be normative, have, in my opinion, transcended ac…

Rephrasing Mother Goose

Mary had a little lamb / It’s fleece was white as snow / And everywhere that Mary went / the lamb was sure to go… / No, no that will …

OPDD, Difference and Discomfort

If being uncomfortable about other people for one reason or another is part of the human experience, then we are all subject to OPDD…

Life as Cricket

For those of you with bat and ball / but not the guts or wherewithal / to stand and face the demon pace / and play each ball in its place, …

With apologies to Shakespeare

The moving lawyer having writ,

I am man, the highest life form ever.

The world, I’m told, is made for profit / And much will die because of it. / How many shares will I save / when I put the world into its g…

POETRY IN EMBRYO

Let me tell you my poem / let me tell you in stages / let me tell you in statements / let me tell you with pages. / My poems are so very st…

POETIC SKULLDUGGERY

In poetic competition keep protagonists apart, / For this years competition is just about to start.

A PIECE OF PAPER

I write and I am at one with myself, through poetry, / on a piece of paper.

SEE ME IN MY POETRY

If you really want to see me, see me in my poetry. / The figure before you is merely a shadow, an image, / A mockery of what I really am. /…

On the sixth word of Christmas

Christmas time / memories old / pain renewed
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