do you want anything
from the shops
she said
it used to be pizza and beer
nowadays just
you home safely
my love

a hard man doesn't need to shout
threaten or front it out
a hard man can crack an egg
without breaking the yolk

Poetry is the open wound
From which the **** of our minds seeps
Infecting the world with it's vitriol
Spreading it's disgusting disease
A scab that never heals, as we pick
And pick away at an itch, letting the injury
Ooze and weep, always there to remind us
We can never resist perverse temptation
And rid us of the addiction that will always
Cause us pain, so open your minds
Let them breathe and pen.

2am
listening to the song of the gnat
as I sit having a crap
book in hand
I always read here
since I had small children
the only place I got any peace

the song stops
I can feel the itch
tiny legs massaging skin
looking for a way in

more people killed than are alive today

quite a reputation for one so small
we always called them gnats
never mosquitos
the gnat sounded more diminutive
less of a threat
but as it turns out
they are connected through
their Latin name, Culicidae  

so I wonder about malaria
how it's coming back to our shores
as I finish the paperwork
and hear the song resume
disturbing it's evening meal

she is nice because
of some new desire
making him drinks
a nice lunch...

he's made her tea
in bed every morning
for years, simply
out of love for her

The shiny blade cuts
Running with the blood of the forest
We must have trees for books
To pass on knowledge
And political ethics.

So we destroy the world
Telling everybody how bad it is
To destroy the world.

I'm out here on the periphery
a ghost of a voice
barely heard
except in the extreme
of silent screams
if you listen carefully
you will feel my words
fill your silence
as tears start to fall
desperation creeps
to the top of the hall
by the stairs
to the bridge
dark water below
the rope tightening
before the chair fall
and thoughts of lights out
game over
do not pass go
flicker across a fragile mind
I am out here
on your periphery
I can break your fall

they reported my passing on Facebook
all most people could manage
was a sad emoji

I have spent my life
looking through a window
at the colourful parade

my search for a door was futile
I really can't see a way in

no one notices me here
banging, shouting, waving

but I will make them look
I will make them stare
aghast in disbelief

I will cause a reverberation
around the world, steal screen time
in news reports and on tv
people will ask why, why
what went so wrong
how can we stop this
from ever happening again

Well there are all kinds of crazies in the world, sometimes you just have to let them in, but above all and most importantly, keep them away from guns.

I will try to write
as often as I can she said
sounding as though some grand letter
would arrive through the post
in her best copper plate script
but she actually meant
that she would text
an off the cuff half arsed
comment on the state of her life
at that actual moment
accompanied by pictures
if I was lucky
I almost told her not to bother
but then if I did
I'd probably never hear
from her at all

I've fumbled
dropping my dignity

it's not a lol
slapstick moment
more foolish tragedy

I am your clowning glory
in the circus of our life
the wheels are falling off again
as I'm travelling too fast

it's always so ****** funny
in a sad pathetic way
you laugh your stupid face off,

even though I get your sympathy
it's from the height of pity
not emphatic in any way

I can perform all night
though not the way you'd like
struggling with the *** thing
to satisfy your cravings
while trying not to cry

am I here to entertain you
my mask a tragic farce
looking like I've got it together
But I'm dieing on my ****.

I lie on the bed
trying to read Bukowski
resting my head on the headboard
which is stupid because
just below is a pile of sumptuous pillows
my cat comes purring
like a V8 ticking over
settling on my chest
he wants love and attention
and I have a kind of affinity with him
abandoned by his mother as a kitten
mine stopped loving me
when she found out I wasn’t the girl she wanted
and had a *****
and a disgusting boy’s brain
so I stroke him
wondering how it feels
to have someone run your hand
down your body continuously
never really having been hugged
two broken souls
from two different worlds
give each other something
of what is missing in their lives
even the pain of a wooden headboard
is bearable
more bearable than never being loved

I have worked out small talk

two people ask questions
of each other, neither
want an answer to
and without listening
to what the other comes up with
think of the next manoeuvre  
until they are locked
in meaningless conversation
that no one can break
like music, a symphony
of nonsense with the guy
on symbols waiting
to crash out at the end

the screen is shattered
the fourth wall crumbled
a brave new world
we have to be part of
lost in a sea of brands
wants and needs
that give us identity
blurred lines between
reality and dreams
they have us and we don't
even know, sleep walking
into their life show

one day son
all this will be yours
I give you the sea
for sunsets and meditation

"but you have plundered the waves
and made a desert of water."

I give you the sky to fly
spread your wings to foreign climes
discover a world of antiquity

"but you polluted the clouds
left vapour trails across the blue
perfect mantle claiming
conquest of the heavens"

I give you the earth
to travel freely and discover
it's beauty and marvels

"the earth is my home
where I thought I was safe
but a poison chalice
is all you can pass
to my parched lips
to quench a thirst for life
already taken from me"

"I am the most precious thing you have??"

"I thought you loved me beyond
the moon, the stars, the sea
the earth, beyond mortal life"

"but it seems you only loved yourself"

We'll wake up and smell the coffee

God counts them in, three by three
rainbow children dancing free
forbidden fruit unfamiliar to Eve

the arc is leaving for the sinful to drown

so bring on the clowns, the jugglers
and actors, luvvies, lovers of flesh
summon them to entertain us
with original sin and panache
we set sail tomorrow at sunset
to wake in the morning to the smell
of coffee and angels burning
burning in Hell

Out of place
In a displaced world,
There is a frailty in your touch
A dampness in your kiss
Childlike gestures belie your years
Alice through the Looking Glass
An ****** dream, beset with innocence
Lost many years ago
You are out of your face
In this displaced world
Whirling around my head, spinning
Sliding down the stairs
Laughing at the silliest things
All I want to do
Is *******.

when you're on
the window ledge of life
people tell you
go see a psychiatrist
(get yourself some therapy)
I've been here a while
haven't drawn a crowd yet
but people are starting to notice
(I'm pretty unobtrusive)
even my own mother
didn't recognise me once
(she's part of the problem)
but that's another story
as I say been here a while
and I'm starting to enjoy
the view
if you don't look down
where all the problems are
but take in the horizon
crazy isn't a bad place to be
I see sunsets
flocks of birds
cloud formations
moon phases
starting to go ancient man brain
starting to cure myself
all that **** below me
doesn't matter
the cars, the people, the noise
pollution, war, ******
I've started to make
the ledge my home
moving in
I can jump any time I want
but find myself needing
another sunrise
blinding light of today
gradually illuminating a world
that really doesn't deserve it
people want me to get therapy
so I can live in a crazy world
how does that
make any kind of sense

We sit in manicured silence
A sterile, germ free environment
But still we share the air
In this room,
Breathing and rebreathing
Our own and each other's fumes.
I can smell your eau de cologne
With a hint of toothpaste,
Though not enough to disguise
The lingering fug of cigarettes
In hair and on clothes,
Unchanged since yesterday, telling
Of that drink on the way home in the pub,
Your hands shake a little, yellowed fingers
Giving away your nicotine addiction;

So doc how's the state of my health.

disposable breed
cogs in a big engine
they'll never know
the size of
infinitely replaceable
vending machine
of humanity
missed for a day
memory fades
with morning coffee
new recruits to train

You could see the scars
where coloured ink sank deep,
making patterns in his flesh;
deeper than a love
which prompted the first cut,
one drunken night on shore leave
in some long forgotten port;
when Stacy was his girl,
decorated with a rose.


Then a panther leapt to mind,
embedding its image into the skin
of his back;
a dark shadow to protect him
from danger of surprise attack.
But its blind eyes
never saw the knife,
when he lost his life
in a bar room brawl.


The world had gradually
coloured him in,
etching out a journey
from Far East to Babylon,
across all the oceans.
The devil sat at his shoulder
so he knew where to find him.
A dragon on his right arm,
snake and dagger on the left.
At night in fractured dreams, they’d fight,
breathing fire and spitting
reptilian venom.


It seemed a shame to bury him,
he really belonged in a gallery.
But the sea accepted
without any fuss,
the man whose imagination
was for all to see,
drawing attention to himself.

You cannot control the power of the sun
Far less try to hide it behind lies
And reassurances that everything is fine,
While it burns into the retinas of thousands
Who thought they had jobs for life.
The sunsets just don't lie, our life giving
Star sent messages to it's progeny
Writing out the truth across the sky

Pripyat holds the secrets of the apocalypse
Now we know what happens when our world
Ends, nature carries on, regardless, unperturbed
Even after we have done our worst, we go
The way of the dinosaurs, leaving a vacancy
For the next apex predator to ***** up
The world will never stop, but we will
And I think you'll find we will not be sorely missed

Just because one man broke the rules
Causing a reactor to blow it's cool
All so the 'Woodpecker' could listen in
A wall of surveillance powered by nuclear
Fission, now it is a tourist hot spot, everyone
Can go to visit the moment this world stopped
But will we learn from the devastation that's left
History says otherwise, you can't fix stupid

We dip our toe into life's pool
and watch the ripples
affect the lives of those around us
hoping not to offend
but fit in, without too much disturbance

we may even walk a little way off shore
considering ourselves brave
to have come this far

but there are those who
regardless of how cold the water may be
will plunge head first, screaming
into the blue

I watch them, jealously
hesitating in the shallows.

I'll pay a ransom for my art
the ivory tower must release
the fair maiden
my muse
for freedom of expression

Member of the 27 club, too young to die
Too fast to live, only lent to us
A break in the clouds that let some light in,
Original flash of inspiration jumping
From my radio to shout, music isn't dead
Too soon to leave us only wanting more

the bread you gave us yesterday
was warm and smelt of home
it tasted sweet and comforting
our stomachs full to bursting

the bread you gave us today
was mouldy and hard to swallow
it tasted of bitter memories
of how you loved us once

the bread you'll gives us tomorrow
will be hard and cold as stone
it will taste forgotten like ashes
when the fire has lost it's soul

You cannot touch me here,
In the land of dreams...
Suspended between death and reality
By a slim thread of consciousness.
This is my space, my refuge
Where I can re enter
My embryonic state,
Before thought,
Before sight,
Before emotion;
Just the warmth of existence,
Not having to belong
Keep up,
Shape up,
Shut up,
Make something of myself
All I had to do was exist;
I was precious once,
A pearl in an oyster
Not a stone in your shoe.

I am old
my mind forgotten
bury me
in a soul shaped coffin

I am silent
my words unspoken
bury me
in a soul shaped coffin

I am still
my muscles wasting
bury me
in a soul shaped coffin

I exist in twilight
leaves have fallen
naked and cold
winter approaching
my dance is over
a tune stopped playing
my silence filled
with children laughing

my last act
a final curtain
bury me
in a soul shaped coffin

we spent three hours of my life
on a takeaway
watching a further hour
tick away on a film
bought on Netflix
that I'd half already seen
through my eyelids
an hour wasted on a book
before bed which I'll
finish reading even though
I lost interest in the plot
early on but feel obliged
to see how it turns out
then sleep, one of my few
free pleasures before alarmed
awake by Alexa who I spent
nearly a whole day on
just so I could get up
and do all this **** again
so I can afford more stuff
to fill my empty time

A kid makes a finger gun
With hammer thumb
To fire at passing traffic,
From the cover of his bunker bus stop;
In America he’d be an active shooter
****, they have names for it over there,
Here he’s just a ******* nuisance;
His shelter advertises a deodorant
Shaped just like and called bullet
Perhaps some subliminal message
Has entered his head
The power of advertising, the power of death.

For a deodorant that advocates love and attraction
It’s a strange message.

I feel my phone vibrate
in my jeans pocket
even though it rests
in front of me on the desk
like a severed limb
can still itch

He gives her the butterfly as an act of beautification
Hoping nature can exemplify his feelings; A fragile life,
Balanced between death and existence in his fingers
Making sense of all the nonsense in his head.
He gives her the flowers in an act of affection
Even though they both know they are dead,
Only water prolonging the inevitable demise
Of colourful blooms returning to the earth
From where they once grew, like their love
Beautiful under the sun, natural and charming,
Until you told them that love is shown with silver
And gold, diamonds and pearls, chocolate and cards
High octane fast cars, exclusive meals in top restaurants
Theatre tickets and front row concerts, but the butterfly
***** it’s wings and somewhere in the world,
There is a hurricane.

I can feel the purr
in his throat
as my fingers pass
across a trusting exposed neck

He lies, Panther like
across my branch leg limb
where we demonstrate
our approximation of love
between two species

Lost in translation sometimes
a little nip to remind me who's boss

We look into each other's eyes
I blink
He blinks
we have our connection.

Unabashed by sexuality
Untied by chains
Of commerce;

Such a shame
The line stops here,
Queen of soul;

No young prince
To claim your throne,
A talent entombed
In your own,
Strange Love.

loneliness
is a misunderstanding
of what together is
a feeling we need someone
to complete us
in truth
people are a pain
in the ****

****** dropped bombs on him
It was nothing personal
There was just a war on
He came under the heading of enemy
Blew the ****** front door in
His mum got shot at by a Messerschmitt
In the middle of the street
So he had to do the shopping after
Its dangerous out there send the kid

Served his country in the Royal Fusiliers
Made it to sergeant teaching squaddies
How to read and do their sums
Posted to Germany as army of occupation
Did his bit as the saying goes
Then back on civvy street worked in the city
Steam train took him every day
From the market town where I was born
To smoke and smog and daily grind

Now I am teaching him the iPhone 6
At eighty seven he’s doing great
From a socially acceptable distance
Of course so we can keep in touch
Face to face and he won’t miss us
Now by himself rattling around
The big old house where I grew up
How times have changed
Still he should be used to queuing up

A lonely soul, looking for inspiration;
Balanced on the edge of life.

Words penned from a dark mind,
With occasional flashes of light.

A loser in the end, but brilliantly -
And everyone missing the point.

my mother always cleaned
it was her thing
more than hobbies
more than friends
erasing every previous day
it's accidents
it's happenings

little hand prints
adorn my walls
pencil scribblings
from budding Leonardos
and when I pass the second stair
a stain on carpet
from God knows where

I live the past everyday
making new futures
along the way.

I follow the slow funeralistic parade
Too late to escape, warning came
On the radio, way past my last exit
I wonder who has died today?
Cars pass what were once shiny projectiles
Such as they, but are now soulless wrecks
Burnt out, like X-rays.


Who fell asleep at the wheel
Or made that last telephone call
That just couldn’t wait, while
Still chasing time in the fast lane,
To catch up with a schedule that now
Is as redundant as the chunk of metal
He was still trying to pay for.


Flashing lights mark the perimeter
Of some executive’s last stand
An accident? Perhaps, but maybe
Life just became that bit too quick
And caught up with him
An overdose of technology, leading to
A breakdown in human capacity.


We, the survivors, look on with grief
That could’ve been me! But not
Thankfully today, speeding on our way
Soon forgetting the graphic lesson
Someone gave their all to paint
But we have to look, just to see
If anyone has really died today.

sat on a park bench at noon
he dressed early charity shop
other people had already made
his fashion decisions for him
cast aside like they cast aside
his son, his visits less and less
frequent now, his name is
uttered as a mere whisper
except in anger and in war
he has less strength than when
faith supported his mental health
shouted from the fortress pulpit,
blending in on the seedy side
of life where the real people are
when asked about the second
coming, he said I gave you all
free will and look what you did
tell me, would you send your
only son to a God forsaken
place like this AGAIN.

needle idling
leading in
taking flight
across the groove
crackling into life
unchanged since 1889
black disc spinning
revealing secrets
from the darkness of vinyl
rumble of base
crash of high hat
lyrical weavings
entwined around
a density of sound
unmatched by digital cleanliness
the smell of aging cardboard
with artwork
fit for a gallery

I see the world
through the lens
of another mans eyes
shared experience
shot at 1/500th
of a second
f8
rainforest at sunset
a whole knowledge
of technical skill
expressed in an image
I can walk into
grateful
to be a part of it

I throw more words
into the emptiness of the ether
like a whale calling for home
an unheard song
one day forced
into extinction

take up valuable real estate
live in their own ****
birthing in their own faeces
we call them vermin
and hate them
because they are so much like us

I want to go to bed but my daughter is in the bath again; we're gonna have to pay on a meter soon, (it seems it's a privilege not a right), so I wonder how much all those drops will cost, I'll just have to cough up, baths are an essential of a girl's life and I couldn't stand the whining if I said it's showers from now on; I don't get baths, immersed in hot water, gradually turning cold, swimming in all your own sweat, (human soup), "They help you relax" she says, RELAX! she's not the one paying the bills, stressing over where the next meal is coming from; all I'd think of is the things I could be doing instead of wallowing, old people die in baths, some even drown in them, some husbands take a bath with an electrical appliance (plugged in, courtesy of the wife), John Haigh dissolved his victims in the bath in sulphuric acid, showers every time for me, wash away the dirt down the drain, with all the stress of the day; bath bombs, what's that about, not some sort of terrorist threat, it's smelly stuff that sort of explodes when put in water, impregnating the skin with smells and potions, (human potpourri), I just want to go to bed, I'm tired and have work tomorrow, what the **** does she do in there for hours on end.

eggs
jug, broken shells
in the sink
Radiohead wails OK Computer
from Alexa archive
Jack glugs from a freshly
unsealed present from my wife
am I hip like Motorhead
or just another tipsy old dad
I wonder what Urbex explorers
would discover if they
crawled through my letter box
into this mess of a kitchen
onion makes me cry
something I never did
as a child
cheese and ham
how much **** can I cram
into this frying pan
an alchemical cupboard
of herbs and spices pervades
my sense of smell
am I brave enough
should I have beans
I’ll only eat half a can
people are starving somewhere
out of date packets call
do you feel lucky punk
but sliced beef for **** sake
who can resist that
a forgotten sandwich
never made
the truth in the pan
unmixed ingredients
never mind says bourbon head
it’s all the same
gas ring ignites
north sea pipelines
fishermen risking their lives for
for Brexit quota lies
the fiery grill, another bourbon
once you pop
small one in a big glass
carnage of packet autopsy
for the morning after
waits

I'll bite and snarl at your wheels
rumbling past me up that hill
I know you'll never stop
leaving me stranded
a mad dog.

Painted red lips
Blusher'd rosy cheeks,
Make pallid complexions
Bleed.
Life’s source courses
Through hot veins;
We are all vampires
Attracted to circulation.

they want to take my toys away
'cos I won't play the game their way
but they don't understand my vision
see through my eyes of contradiction
the gatekeepers have closed their realm
standing strong for what they believe in
I know they'll never let me pass
they have a hatred that's deep entrenched
I'll carry on regardless though
in my one man delusional show

Sly looks and sly smiles
Sly remarks on points of style
A little slip, a little quip
And you could be the **** of it

Laughing behind hands, they stand
At the corner of the bar
Each victim carefully selected
Each remark perfectly directed
A ***** of a time
A little jealousy, a little crush
A little misplaced love and trust
You can almost feel the knife stab
And as you go down, they laugh

Sly looks and sly smiles
Behind each others back as well
Laughing behind hands
Looking out for trusting friends