I remember Sundays when it rained
my father
downstairs playing the piano
and me
up in my room staring out the window
wondering where all this time was going
I wanted to be there
discovering whatever you discovered
outside the back door, over the fence
past my school to the main road
people were busy going places
rushing noisily, getting in each other's’ way
shouting obscenities, gesticulating
everything so important
they had to arrive when it happened
my father played on into the afternoon
as mum baked cakes and complained
there were a thousand and one jobs
he’d promised to do
only now I realise that he
lost in music, was trying to escape
all those people rushing nowhere, shouting
getting in each other's’ way
he had been out there and understood
just how futile life could be.

The pen scratches across 80gsm
whiteness polluted by thoughts
translated into ink stains

guided by some unseen hand
I sometimes write things
even I don't understand

I will watch forests grow and fall
see the seas rise and swallow countries
the sun dim into a minor star
be able to take a return trip to Mars
witness the folly of man squabbling
like infants, fighting in the dirt of life
while knowing what infinity is
though I'll never see an end to it

I shall become alone, afraid of love
see my children born and bury them
watch the loves of so many lifetimes
wither into old age and die leaving
me heartbroken knowing I can never
follow them into the darkness
death and I will sit and talk about old times
and all the moments he has stolen from me.

gulls squawk angrily on our roof
they argue about survival
forgetting they carry the souls
of drowned mariners

we argue in our bedsit
penned into a miniature life
fighting for identity
the right to be ourselves

we could be by the sea
but those angry squabbling scavengers
have never seen a wave in their lives
just gulls not seagulls

forgetting ourselves
we spar around the furniture
you are southpaw
I am orthodox

they root through *******
scattering it everywhere
no use to man nor beast
disease ridden vermin

wrapped up in life
forgetting how to fly
but we can all soar
if we ride the thermals

people are still dying
the war is not yet over
the enemy is invisible
from which we all take cover
doors they are no barrier
no defense and little comfort
our adversary could be with us
sitting on the sofa

I sit contemplating it
a speck on a desert of floor
tracing an unfathomable journey
past unseen obstacles

direction seems lost
then suddenly
I become the target

I try to understand scale
if it were a person
I would be bigger than
a jumbo jet
skyscraper
whale

this mountain rises and moves
to carry on existence
among the clouds
carefully avoiding
a crushing blow

in my eyes how is that
spec of life
more important than mine

Tears fall like rain,
Except they don't
Running in rivulets
From ducts, down your
Puffy puckered face
Reddening pupils, veiny
Crimson spider's webs,
Makeup on spoilt canvas
Masked blemishes that
Are now the least
Of your worries, as I
Hit you again, playful
Seeing how far we will go
Before one of us breaks,
I don't hate you, pain
Is a mutual friend
We hide our love behind,
Tears of a demented clown
We perform our routine,
Outside it drizzles the rotten
Souls of the ******
From stormy skies,
Here we are alive
As we enter the ring.

winter's melancholy cold
as we fry in Satanic heat
a Hell of our own making

we cut the earth and made her bleed
for greed and war and hate and waste

I am shadow
An unnoticed consequence of light
Tracing footsteps, oh so bright
They blind with their gift
Of brilliance, illuminating
Out shining those of my like.
They don’t want my darkness, my pain
It disturbs their spark with its melancholy,
They know me as soon as see me,
One worth kicking back into touch
Into the darkness of my mood,
Even though I mimic their form
I am un-appreciated, not the same.
Just a little love please, people
Without me you have no outline
Something to define you, give shape
Contrast against your heavenly form
You need me, I make you look good
Following so you can plunder every
Weakness I have.

I had some good words back then
full of angst
testosterone powered passion
directionless lyricism

I was in a wilderness
where only brambles and weeds grew
flowers afraid to show their colour
for fear of being trampled

but now I approach my Eden
through the open gate
sunshine beckons me
illuminating light and shade
words begin to fail me
beauty has muted my pen
anger needs to sit and rest

the tattoos they got
in love and in anger
have turned to cartoons
not warnings of danger

Pete Townsend was singing
about my generation
who are now on Zimmer frames
and hormone replacement

the kids were alright
in the cafés downtown
where the little blue pills
went around and around

now mellowed stagnated
judgemental outdated
by the new youth culture
that’s moving and shaking

jumping on bandwagons
and acting like tarts
they’re all ******* green
with no purple hearts

but the culture it ended
the scooters all scrapped
and none of them realised
that The Who they just rocked

not there for the birth of love
nor the conception really either
already moved on to pastures new
greener grass new playgrounds
I will miss you as you were
a delicate beauty blooming
in the warmth of summer sun
skin un-sinned flesh un-tarnished
a curiosity of unexplored emotions
badly answered selfishly shattered


I have lived a life of absence
never there when needed
only answering the call of lust
never the one to bring flowers
just invasive thoughts and gestures
never the one to talk on pillows
after passion in the darkness
the timeless time of lovers
the loveless time of *******
like me already gone

the attraction of a moth to a flame

I look like Raffa
(Rafael Benítez, Spanish football manager)
no ****!
you put a picture of him next to me
we look like long lost twins

but people don't seem to get
I'm not actually him

vilified by van drivers
builders on scaffolds
through open car windows

"oi Raffa you *****"

they don't seem to understand
he wouldn't be walking
carrying shopping
down the high street

I also look a bit like Peter Sutcliffe
but we'll leave it there I think

The garden is still hers, waiting for her footsteps on the path
It is as though nothing has changed, time held in a moment
That will last until the weeds cautiously poke through soil
In well manicured beds between prized blooms
As seasons pass it will tell she is no longer here to care
For the garden

But it is winter now and everything sleeps, as she does
Soon to be beneath the earth she loved so much
For its fertility, pushing up the daisies in a quiet plot
That time will not forget, someone else mowing the grass
Family leaving her favourite flowers she grew so well
In her garden

A **** grew inside her she could not pluck out
In an otherwise ordered life it ate at her, reduced
To a withered flower her husband could not recognise
Cancer entwined like ivy every thought and movement
She killed the **** by killing herself, now she tends
Her garden with God.

*** is a journey taken by two people together
travelling to different destinations
not necessarily arriving at the same time

It fell from my lips
like a curse

death of truth

betrayal of trust

leaving a bad taste
that with time
would grow worse

feeding upon itself

it always does.

clues have always been there
the closet door left open
for those that bothered to walk into it
rhythmic Polari conversed
in whispers in the ether
of internet sites reserved
for my niche interests
hiding in plain sight, ninja style
but I find I have to face my demons
shout it from the highest rooftops
i'm a coming out poet
and I'm so over who knows it

They had a scent
That filled her room,
Tempting fate, that
Pretty soon she’d fall.

Bold and bright
They caught the light,
From an otherwise empty
Shelf in her life.

Severed stems, like
Severed limbs flounder
In murky water,
Still in shock;

They don’t even know
They’re dead yet.
A glorious sacrifice
At a moderate price.

How long will he stay,
Before the murky night
Covers his severed love,
Leaving dead flowers in a vase?

they are selling sunshine
on these ***** streets
offering escape
at bus stops
beyond the ride home
with hoarding speak
dreams, new worlds
new life, new you
away from this ****** existence
we all perceive
step into
the advertiser's dream

they are going to save the world
one protest at a time

but what they don't realise
is the world doesn't care

billions of years gone
it will never end

same old circus
but the monkeys get changed

butterfly
in the killing jar
made object
made art
preserved perverse pleasure
collected
displayed as though
some great master
to prove the beauty of nature
pushed one more step
into extinction
pretty colours are there
for camouflage
from idiots/predators
to keep the bounty of nature
outdoors
for everyone
to enjoy

this is what it’s come to
my wife is at college upstairs
sitting on the bed
with sixteen other people
virtually on her laptop
my daughter late for her lesson
at college
without the excuse of
missed buses or traffic
she got stuck in the kitchen
talking to her boyfriend
on WhatsApp
I’ve booked an appointment
at the doctors
on zoom to diagnose
a worrying mole
that’s giving me grief
and I might facetime my dad later
the only time I see him
for real nowadays
virtual love
virtual hugs
how do you date in a pandemic
I wonder
looking for someone to share
the end of days with

I watch an hour hold its breath
And wait to let it out
Hands slowed by an unseen force
As they travel across the clocks face
These dark days feed me
With a hunger for warmth and light
A feeling that can only leave me
Chasing rainbows in between clouds.

Another day, a little more hope
See what happens given enough rope
Waiting for the longest drop
When darkness stops my ticking clock
Nobody has called my name
Not even a candle to light the way
For my fate I stand in line
My daily bread still leaves me starving

Just when it couldn't get any worse
Suddenly the heavens opened
Making rivers of all my sorrows.
Soon all at sea without a float
I will sink with the sun in the west
Setting fire to the sky
As though God has taken my anger
And made it beautiful.

What gives you the right
To try to shine so bright among stars
That climbed into the mantle of heaven,
With drug addled bodies
And the voices of angels.
How can you sit in constellations
That foretell the future
And the state of the nation.
Glitter and glow
For the evening show
And take a bow as an unknown sensation.

we are all broken
it just depends how much

sometimes you can pick up the pieces
and glue them together with hope

almost looking the same as before

only the ones who really know
can maybe spot a look in the eyes
that wasn't always quite there

we are all broken
it just depends how much

you can pick up all the pieces
and glue them back together with hope

but sometimes there's not enough
the crack will always show

people will see the badly mended shell
and not want to look inside

where there still haunts a ghost
of what was once a life

We have spoken many times today
Unheard,
We have touched a thousand memories
Without words;
I can be with you anywhere
We have been, or yearn to go;
You fit,
Like the cliched jigsaw piece
I was born without,
Not just my other half
Another part of my life.
Friend, lover, soul mate
No matter where
No matter what,
You are always in my thoughts.

there is a dark room
the curtains are pulled
a little light penetrates
behind the locked door
I rarely go there
except in secret moments
when I know it's safe
and my hardened shell
can offer protection
I have to be strong
for the ones who rely on me
but like a weeping wound
my curiosity is drawn
visits get fewer and fewer
at some point I must stop
putting my childish anger
to rest

he held the knife
blade bright as the sun
with an edge
as dark as night
it's anger swallowing light

cold as a dead man's finger

meeting flesh to the bone
again and again
until rivers ran
where none should flow
his victim cold

as a dead man's finger

the scene set
for the guys from forensics
to take their pictures
make measurements
of blood spatter
then pack up the mess

cold as a dead man's finger

to the victor the spoils
mobile phone and some cash
living to make future chaos
he lies on his bed
staring at a blank ceiling
no feeling

cold as a dead man's finger

She lights another cigarette,
Exhaling the smoke
Through her words
Like a cancer breathing dragon;

A tanned, wrinkled face
With two huge painted eyes,
Show the ghost of what
Was once a beautiful sight.

She can still hold your attention
With her graceful gestures,
****** expressions and soft voice
But somehow you just don’t……

Hear a **** word she says,
As though her beauty departed
Taking with it all sense.
She is somehow now a freak;

Ruined by the pursuit of trying
To keep one step ahead
Of the years, but each one
Has left a mark on her skin

Like the rings around a tree,
Count the winning smiles baby;
She is a fallen angel
Remembering the glory of heaven,

But now clipped wings
Cannot carry her that far.

my house
is full of furniture
bought without thought
for colour or design
instead
functionality
practicality
space
convenience
and do I really need it
rule my decision making

no feng shui
rhythm or flow
it forms directionless avenues
walked daily in confused circles
wondering what I am looking for

my limbo house
where I dream my dreams
waiting for a ship to come in

In my darkest hour
I throw prayers
like scraps of paper
blown by the wind
hoping a benevolent god
will want to hear them
while all around me
angels dip, gathering souls
by the armful to be borne
up into the heavens.

there are millions of us
like leaves on a branch
in a forest full of trees
what makes me so special
any more than these
trying to catch some sunlight
waiting for an autumn breeze

prostitutes
who walk the streets
for the relief of men
unhappy at home
check out girls
at the till of empty promises
waiting to be discovered
and whisked away
young ones in yoga pants
jogging for a better body
and a better future
counting the steps
to where they could’ve
been today
the ones pushing prams
who are too late to corrupt
but you’d still give it a go
the tempting schoolgirls
in their uniformed uniformity
who’s radiant faces separate them
from their peers
they are all someone’s daughter
somebody’s pride and joy
they are all loved by fathers
who would lay down their lives
for them
who have made sacrifices
for them
and would again
precious
missed
special
remember this
as you glance a lustful eye
in their direction

I proffered my hand in friendship
you grasped it like a lifeline
imbuing me with what you thought
a friend should be, expectations
far beyond my offer
of biscuits and a cuppa by PG

she loved the sunrise
all that hope promised
first light of a new day

I was always a sunset kind've guy
preferring to know it's all over
watching my anger and disappointment
drain from the sky

we're no longer together

days passed
and we never saw eye to eye

some time ago
I went out to get
a packet of ****
and forgot how
to find my way
home again

I have a stone
As smooth as a bone,
In my sky rocket.
More precious than a diamond
Though it doesn’t shine,
In my sky rocket.
You gave it me in the garden
When we were weeding and planting,
A “Lucky stone” you called it
To remind me of you,
Wherever I go and you can’t.
So, I carry a stone
As smooth as a bone
That is you,
In my sky rocket.

Stillness
heat haze shimmering
distorting hedgerows and landscape
alive with nature buzzing, chirping, fluttering
continual motion,
though
we feel like lazing, resting not sweating
absorbing heat and radiation
drawn to beaches to sit like the terraced
houses we inhabit, still on each other's
doorstep next to a sea lapping the sand
bringing down walls of castles and mounds
built on the memories of childhood
we will one day treasure to measure
the enjoyment we will pass on
of halcyon days, in summer sun.

We have never been here before
explorers on a planet
undiscovered
since the sun rose at dawn

opportunity and possibility
confront us if we dare to grasp it
today is the first day of the future
a gem, untarnished by event
unwritten by tabloid hacks
unreported by roving news teams

no shot has rung out
no insult been hurled
or reputation tarnished
hatred and prejudice
are chosen paths we can avoid

this is a new day
this is the future
if we let it be

t.v. stole imagination
smashing it from my head
nothing left
for my mind’s eye
to see

drawn
a moth to a flame
violated
life in Technicolor
a movie
roll credits

The street is silent
Everything become still,
Cars pulled up on pavements, make way
Pedestrians, without utterance
Transfix their gaze,
As though Death himself
Sat behind the wheel
At the head of the cavalcade;
Brushing a tear from the cheek
Of his smile fixed face:

A small white box,
Lost in the back
Of a long black limousine,
Continues on its journey;
Unhindered by a day
That up to that moment,
Was very like any other;
Until there it was
Iridescent in the sunlight
Making a last short journey
From cradle to grave.

I swear not a bird sang
Nor an engine idled restlessly.

we should remain strangers
you and I
keeping secrets from each other
about our private lives
knowing becomes owning
then true love dies

we should tell lies
you and I
because honesty can be ugly
why spoil perfect days
truth be ****** in a blink
of your beautiful eyes

we should live apart
you and I
so we can miss each other
be lonely and pine
for the company
the other provides

we should see other people
you and I
we will always be unfaithful
so disappointment and failure
have already
broken our hearts

We are the recorders of history
weirdos, winos forgotten souls
sideline shadows watching
for someone to fall, so we
can write a verse or two on tragedy
twist it out of our tormented minds
to show we care in our special way
but we do not change the world
for if there were no misery
we'd run out of material to write about

mine is a faint light
easily blown out
disturbed by the slightest breath
to see it it has to be very dark
very still
almost nothing

mine is a tiny voice
for such a big man
easily drowned out
with the shouts
of everyday life
and the conversations
so much more important
than what I have to say

mine is an empty space
like a storage locker
before it becomes storage
a house before it becomes
a home
or a garage before
you buy a car

but one day my light may guide you
through your darkness
one day you may need to see the way
one day my voice will comfort you
being the only one you can hear
that says anything to you
and one day my space
may be all the space you need
to rest your head
collect your thoughts
gather your strength
so you can carry on
ignoring me again

all I want is to do, do ,do
but I'd like to smell the roses too

the view from here is astounding
I can see lives stretching to the horizon
trapped in metal boxes in queues
saving time in luxury leather lined
vehicles each as individually angry
as the next person they’ll never know
or attempt to speak to in their life
but will gesticulate to in their ire
cut up at another set of lights
all set to go red on their way to

their boxes full of possessions
that make them unique all
bought off Amazon or similar sites
tasteful bespoke mass produced
obsolescence built in high tech
that they will never fully understand
having never read the instructions,
lined up one after the other like
soldiers or arranged in some
semblance of randomness that
makes as much use of real estate
as law and profit will allow

they will all spend their lives
trying to escape on holidays
to un-spoilt golden beaches
where concrete hotels are built
to accommodate their dreams
with a view of some sand full of
lobster red beer swilling, fish and chip eating
homesick people who wonder
why the local population can’t speak
their language or understand their
culture, lie in rows of individually
claimed real estate with towels
marking their little piece of paradise

none of them can understand why
I jumped, fell, ended my life
I must have issues of mental health
to even contemplate a way out
of this wonderful world we created
that takes us our whole existence
to earn enough to in the end pay
for, yet here I am ironically standing
on the balcony of a luxury apartment
complex built for modern families
who are looking for the best in life
my end manufactured for me from the
same concrete and glass paradise is made
from, tomorrow they will put up netting
to stop anyone else from escaping

******* on a can of beer
I'm sure the answer's in here somewhere
diversion of my mind map
fools illusion, mirage'd secret
a child again
stupidly laughing
at the stupidest of things

I could conquer the universe
just as long as this bubble
remains unburst

my body starts to question though
just how far I'm prepared
to go
beyond the veil
beyond the pale
the edge of insanity
a dance with the devil

crash comes through
outer atmosphere
splashdown
of this spaceship
in a sea of pain and fear
what did I do last night
dare I answer that texted phone

You have them where you want them
Arms long enough to keep the distance
Measured in limbs rather than miles,
But really it's an attitude, state of mind
That you kid yourself you are someone else
Have grown beyond the childhood jibes
You are your own person, though damaged
The scars are easier to hide

Then they go and die on you
There is sadness and tears, but really
What I am crying for is me, for the life
I was denied. She never said she loved me
Was never proud of what I did or who I was
A source of disappointment even down to
Being a boy, I say the words I should have
Spoken, over and over in my mind.

ideas trickle from my subconscious
with nothing to catch them
but a fountain pen
and notebook lined paper

they pool into an existence
like a small tide over which
I have no dominion whatsoever
spreading across the page

small seas of myself
without a moon to control them
slosh about until they somehow
make sense of each thought wave

then they begin their ebb and flow
haunting me with their sound
as they crash on an empty shore
where I'm a castaway of my words

a glimmer to a glow
then only embers
to remind us
of a fire that once
raged

a thousand extras
for a cast of one
and I among them

world shrunk to four walls
an armchair and tv set
have you seen mum
seven years gone
waiting