Craving Bon Liberty.

Whilst mapping orkney during 

the last great freeze not even 

welsh whiskey rings could thaw 

The well expose and changing world 

that will never be wish to be seen .

Or heard.


Smelting all the road signs to forge

Ahead in this risky boxed game 

Often craving Bon Liberty.


A ton of love salted in November. 

The uncomfortable thought of forgetting 

The past and allowing others too

Direct what they rejected.


Ever word you say age’s me like Hadrian.

Were you wormed after your country 

No longer need you.