You missed an older side of me. When young punk bands were hailed as kings, when DIY meant everything. When all I did was hope to please my first idol, the late John Keith, when Omaha was all I'd breath.

Exchanging past lives with a stranger over coffee that you kind of like swallows up all kind of trust. It's powerful.
I was reduced, to a topic, a hobby that you no longer do. Oh, what each cycle does, around this Sun. It's powerful.

It sweeps the night away like weak swimmers.
It covers its kin like the ink of next century’s writers and, rosily fingered, parts any canopy it meets and pillar-like creeps.

It creeps to each peak and each precipice first, to the surface of industry and oceans third, it traces the walls to the lids of my eyes, and teases their structure as you tease mine.

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Helping promote Local & National gigs and bands in the North East of England.

Dope blog for Music Junkies and Gig Addicts orchestrated from out of Belgium to the world

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Old Prides