"Real Thing or Emperor's New Machine?" (Entry 529)

Gigantic machine throbbed and gleamed in the man-made cave.

Deep underground away from curious eyes.

They’d hoped it meant out of sight, out of mind.

Didn’t want what they were trying to achieve to come into question.

Given out statements to the scrutinised and selected media

using enough techno-babble to confound and impress.

Wanted to make it vague enough but seem as simple as possible 

than none would want to embarrass themselves

by asking what they were really doing.

The Emperor’s new clothes for intelligence. 

No one wants that belittled.

Numbers aligned.

Now.

Now they were ready to stare into the face of tomorrow.

Now they were ready to time travel.

"The Space of Dreams" (Entry 234)

In the dreams of others,
That's where she grew up.
Never allowing one of her own.
That's why she killed them,
To find her private space.
Not what to do?
Was she too late?
She was.
Here's the police!

"Secrets Beneath The Bricks" (Entry 207)

Each owner buys this history of property.
Every word spent and action invented,
seeps deep into bricks and wood. .
Hatred ricocheting off ceilings,
tears drown floorboards,
and laughter ripples through stipples walls.
Every house has its secrets.
They never tell, only curate.

"A Secret Symbol" (Entry 172)

A coin (which is no longer tender)
embedded in a champagne cork.
Its symbolism only known to me,
as he who created it has long forgotten.
Yet it means a turn in life profound.
The meaning only for me.
(Tender to my heart.)
A secret never to be spoken.

"At A Price" (Entry 133)

The Estate Agent chattered in the background,
Something about south-facing built-in cupboards.
They glided through the first floor,
Ooohing and Aaahing at fireplaces and Aga ranges.
Then tackled the stairs to the next floor of the spectacular five storey town house.
They couldn't believe the asking price, Georgian, in such good condition too!
That was until they struck the blind of the second bedroom window. Then they discovered... and knew.

"Tuesday Delivery" (Entry 122)

The parcel arrived on Tuesday.
Even though he didn't sign for it.
He didn't need to, you see.
The postman trilled the doorbell,
It came with a cheery smile.
To big for the letterbox,
Feared to leave it outside
(In case of sneaky thieves.)
The grin left with the Postie,
Leaving only the package in his hands,
Which were soon empty,
For the parcel that arrived on Tuesday
Sat unwrapped upon the kitchen counter.
Brown, square, half-a-shoe-box size.
No markings except for postal dents,
Address label, correct amount of Queen's headed stamps
Plus lots of shiny tan sticky tape,
Peeling at the edges,
Crying out to be picked at, lifted and ripped.
His fingers flexed, desiring to tear at the box
And touch the secrets beneath,
But he couldn't.
It wasn't his.