Welcome from Simon ! 👋

Oh Maxpax, Oh Maxpax God of all eternity Your shitty brew It makes me new To face my life again. I flag, I falter Maxpax you catch me. You comfort me And help me cope So I need not hope any more. Until the evening, when:- of course Max, Maxpax deserted me, And left me -- Shagged out to the core... - Simon Huggins, 21st June 1994

It’s your fault It’s my fault It’s their fault Goodbye fault. Oh, you’re quite nice too. Simon Huggins, 21st June 1994

In the box of my fence is my garden. Pushing back the boundaries of greenery Stealing Trees competing for pruning glory Whilst my little home-grown Petunias struggle: Hardly a bud here, spot of rot there; Will They Die? My petunias speak to me: They say, "no," although Our roots tangle with those of our overseers, We can survive, and maybe, even... Bloom with a little plant food Water Regularly Sing To Us Gently And we'll reward your love With a spot of colour amongst the green: Life amongst the plenty. But prepare, for blooms are transitory. And we must rest, and die a little Before a bloom again, or maybe Never bloom again. Simon Huggins, 23rd May 1994

A black thing on the wall Might move it's wig of legs or not; Depends on how it feels. If i'm brave, I can creep up close And see the intricate hairs or give A hook of book to squeal. But then the scraping mess of ooze Moves as carcass settles itself Which must be, uncomfortable. In my mind the best thing, I find Is to let the swine toddle around And sometimes come down. Or pick up the plastic trap with ease That quease to shut the creature up And wriggle it please to the window. Mostly I just see how I feel. Good Lord, the creature is real. Maybe the good creature Is worth it today, let's see. - Simon Huggins, 8th September 1993

Seems to be Quite light tonight. Yet in the light Are motes. Motes seems to be Bright Tonight. Yet in the air Are dark. Seems to be Clear tonight. Clear in confusion. Simon Huggins, 7th August 1993

There is nothing like a bowlful of dust To whet your appetite thus:- Settle all your dust Let me blow you from the bowl. Of dust, I can say this:- Although it may be finer grit, I can rub it into my spit, Let me say this:- Nothing like a projected stone When thrown Returns in ripples; Clear for all to see. Until, they too, retreat. Simon Huggins, 7th August 1993

The movie was not real life But as a smooth glass contained snake I was inside. Moving with the fake accents and actually scenery. We was real. A movie has a seat Upon which the audience thrown Quibbles, Indulgence That everyone can sit upon. A zoo only contains those That it sees fit for show. Wonders, in perspective. Which side pays the most. Does the enquiring eye See a fleeting glimpse. Does the sturdy Gaze Fix the visitors in time? If only, if only, if only A dialogue of me and mind And what they had in mind I could discover a brand new treat. We was not real. We was made up. We was nothing but hope. And a little pepper and 'was' salt. The End. Simon Huggins, 7th August 1993

To people I bow, and smile. To myself Hello, disembodied me. To my pets, Pleased to see you are. To the rest, Ill simply let you be. Simon Huggins, 7th August 1993

We had our world Turned Inside Out And pushed Inside our heads Inflated 'til we thought we'd burst And then indeed we did. Simon Huggins, 19th July 1993

A thousand deaths may come my way In metamorphic forms. They may insidious Curl. A million ways to notice these. In continental ways. Bye bye England Old. Twenty one years to fill a soul With other thoughts. Platonic Ideals Lie. Total disease of a mind. Starts with the body. And mummifies with shape; A whore of some expectation. Like a bleeding, hairless, motiveless Ape. Simon Huggins, 19th July 1993