Wednesday, 2 December 2009

Voices (haiku).

Washed out in a sea
of echoes, we fire off
in loud unison.

Monday, 30 November 2009


I stand beside nude trees,
under a bare sky.
It’s cobalt-coloured – like stripped-bare dreams;
it’s leaden, and naked of life.

The Pavilion is risen tall;
its grandeur all too clear.
If you’d like to take a winter stroll,
why don’t you meet me here?

My skin is chilled
and my dreams hang low –
like a frosty, morning fog.

And I pine for you,
in grumbled tones –
after my keeper,
like a dog.

If you should see me upon the pavement
with desolate-looking eyes,
know there’s a sparkle present
and, because of you, my tears have dried.

And I feel I’m not kidding myself
with the undulations of my mind.
No matter what my temperament,
I know you’ll soothe me in tones kind.

The sky is cobalt-blue
and the leaves are in dank piles.
But I’ll walk these paths with you –
and I’ll walk them for miles.

Monday, 26 October 2009


The town in which I live is dying;
Sometimes I go out to cry.
But the rain masks my tears
And the night cloaks my fears.

The sky is crushing and cold
And this town's bones are getting old.
The sea's storming the pier
And the squall's all I hear.

Sorrow's a drag and regret's pointless.
We're here; we'll be gone, so why feel the blues?
But the jobs have all gone
And I'm left without Sun.

The TV screen flickers in the evening.
I'm sitting here with cans of beer and spite.
Some girl's on TV
But she's not singing for me tonight.

The lads 'round my way all want blood.
To them life is worth less than mud.
They all hide their eyes
And shout slurs in the night.

The town in which I live is dying;
Sometimes I go out to cry.
The sky's grey and looms
Like it's pregnant with gloom.

With hearts on our sleeves,
We die and we bleed.
With hearts on our sleeves,
We die and we bleed.

Monday, 5 October 2009


My heart is the wormwood
To your worms.
The soft fibres make
A tasty treat for your termites.

I left my heart unconcealed
In the rain,
Like the fallen trunk
Of a once-great oak.

I'm so easily consumed;
The first fallen leaf of autumn -
Always the litter;
Never the growth.

I don't know what I am anymore.
I don't know what I am.
I'm a pliable putty
Hoping love will deform me.

I woke up this morning,
Borne in a whirlpool of understanding,
And saw you naked -
Even though you were fully clothed.

Tuesday, 8 September 2009


When hearts as free as wolves released
are out on high to roam as beasts
they plumb the depths and scale the heights,
like anchors tethered to willful kites.

The nights are long and people are free
to sing what songs grant them fecundity.
And as beer-sozzled minds trail off in haste
our actions oft leave a bitter taste.

Such closeness is shared and feelings are expressed
in such rapid succession that we love and detest
in the same moment, 'til our minds stop and say:
you could have it any other way.

I stand in the corner like some ignominious crow -
like some field in waiting for seeds to sow;
and I laugh heartily and let my fears pass the latch,
even though I fear and feel detached.

The girls all dance and sing their songs
whilst men drone on in irksome throngs.
Yet what brilliant couples couples make
when they're coupled in love for coupling's sake.

A drunken ramble at 2am
will seem inscrutable in the morning.
And like the Sun in rising to greet us,
renewed feelings will start dawning.

In drunken revelry we share
the nights, like fireflies that elude;
we drink, though we know we might crumble,
and wait for passion's food.

I try to numb this numbness with alcohol
and yet a frozen shroud creeps over my skin.
I don't know what my life means,
but at least when I'm hungover I'll feel something.

Sunday, 6 September 2009


The cigarette-puffing hipster Hicks
Died at thirty-two years of age.
He was the voice of a silenced America.
He personified the stage.

Lenny Bruce killed himself
At fourty years of age.
He served four months for obscenity.
He was too young to meet the grave.

Jimi Hendrix died
At just twenty-seven.
We stood all along the watchtower
To watch him ascend to Heaven.

Jim Morrison was young
When he kicked the bucket.
When faced with the dick of corporate bullshit
He swore to never suck it.

Like stars of searing brilliance
They didn't last too long.
Their bulks were too big to sustain
So they burst in fiery song.

Some stars burn brightly
With controlled fusion.
Thank God Carlin and Pryor
Didn't succumb to illusion.

Cobain and Christ and Ledger
Died before their time.
Supernovas are born every minute,
And, boy, when they go do they shine.

Friday, 21 August 2009


I think about her
And how I never gave my heart.
She's dancing with another man.
She's happy.

I can only languish in self-pity
And relish in her moments of bliss
Like they're meant for me -
Because she's meant for me.

We kiss in a darkened corner
Of a separate room
Whilst feet patter to the tunes
Of different decades.

I don't say a word.
I swipe back the hair from her eyes.
'I'm happy for you.'

As they dance on a marble stage 'neath the stars
I am the Moon.
She is my Sun;
He is the blue-green sphere between us.

Love (haiku).

Love is a black cloud
When viewed from beneath its bulk
By a rising bird.


Miracles are needed only in abject situations;
For 'miracles' can get one out of a twist.
But the fact that people believe in them
Gives me doubt that any god exists.

Miracles are needed by a superstitious few,
Desperate in times of hurt.
But miracles would not be needed
In a universe in which everything works.

Only a malevolent, disturbed deity
Could necessitate miraculous intervention.
For a miracle to be wanted,
One has to put logic into suspension.

Why is this happening?
Shall I pray for things to change?
A religious person must surely
Not see their beliefs are deranged.

If there's a god in command
Playing craps with my soul,
Then why must bad things happen?
Has my god a heart of coal?

Why must there be dire situations
In order for miracles to work?
It makes no sense to create sorrow
Just to remove minor hurt.

There is only chance;
We can't see what's 'round the bend.
I'll not put my faith in illogicity
Just so my poor, feeble heart can mend.


The teacher in schoool taught me to speak my mind.
The teacher in college taught me to shape my thoughts.
My friends tell me to forget everything I've been taught.

The teachers in school taught me the basic facts.
The teachers in college taught me to unburden my back.
And now I want to teach.

The teacher in school taught me to question authority.
The teacher in college taught me to see with a singular eye.
My parents taught me to respect their authority.
Life has taught me to get ready to die.

Sunday, 2 August 2009

I died and went to heaven.

Well, I died and went to heaven;
Saw Peter at the gates.
Jesus cheered his followers on
As the rest burned in the fire lake.

The teenagers and wives
Were standing on their own
As the yielders to God
Pelted them with stones.

I thought to myself:
'Was this Earth
Created by the devil
When God was not at work?'

I always thought
That when I died
I'd be in a heaven
Where no gods did reside.

All there is
Is this universe.
God doesn't care for you
Unless you do his dirty work.

Well, I died and went to heaven;
Saw Peter at the gates.
Jesus cheered his sheep on
As the rest burned in the fire lake.

I thought: 'This isn't heaven;
It's just somewhere far from Earth -
A labour camp for fools
Somewhere in this universe.'

I wish I could be
Deep down in the earth.
I find it far more beautiful
That there's only nature at work.


I was born after 13.7 billion years of eternal sleep.
My mother birthed me in a hospital.
Life is the same to every organism;
It heralds a brief spout of caring and love.
But humans feel life to be special.

'Death is what it is,' I told her.
'But this feeling hurts so.'
Projecting human emotion will only scold yer.
Death cares not for the feelings you sow.

One day, I will die;
And so will you.
And after decades of living in bliss
We'll reflect on the lives we knew.

But life is just a ride.
Our brains will dissolve upon death.
Take all you encounter in your stride,
And remember to keep steady your breath.

Don't hanker after the past
And don't worry on the morrow.
When you die your life will be cast
And breath you'll never again borrow.

Life is just a carousel;
Life is just a ride.
The ride spins very fast;
The colours are very bright.

And though this most exalted attraction
May not trail off into some next life,
At least you have a shot;
So don't live your days in strife.


The heavens are mottled
like a weary eye
watered with a thin layer of film.

A coating of stratus cloud
cloaks the heavens
and waters incessantly.

The Sun, it seems,
has gone on vacation;
it is summer, after all.

Gloom becomes the people;
the pavements take on an
air of hostility.

Smiles become inverted;
hopes become whetted.
Kettles become quite desirable.

The Wolfman.

There's no such thing as the Wolfman;
He's just got excess facial hair.
I know about all the stories
'Cause, baby, I was there.

And I'll be there again;
Yes I will.
I'm driven by the Moon
To make another kill.

And, baby, I like brownies -
The chocolate-fudge delight.
But I prefer brownie meat
In the dead of night.

Yeah, that's what I said:
All the brownies are dead!
You'll tie no more knots now;
There'll be no more badges to pledge.

I feel like an ox.

See the idiots as they roam.
They're quick to chase their ringing phones.
Brightly coloured lights attract
Spines contained in broken backs.

The promise of something more
Than what you know is assured
Of the things that you seek
Each blighted day of the week.

Brains on empty; mouths on charge.
Porridge language is discharged.
Mangled words and meanings lost.
Bleating herds of sheep - I feel like an ox.

See the idiots as they roam;
With brains as dense as airy foam.
That, my friend, is a paradox.
And, on that note, I feel like an ox.

But I am of the same breed.
My genetic code contains similar genes.
I can distance myself; build up a box.
I'll cage myself.
I feel like an ox.


In darkness it rises from its winks;
Eyes the red of deepest crimson;
Teeth the plain white of bleached bone.

It snarls and snaps in agony;
The howling of the sea squall
Drowns out its moonlit cries.

Born of the night,
It takes to the air
In search of that which it seeks.

A lighthouse stands
Perched above a cove
Like a matchstick in unknowing tinder.

With a slight thud
It lands atop the search-light's crown.
It's the last thing you'll ever hear.

A boat on the ocean.

The peaks and troughs rock my vessel
As the tumultuous brine rises and falls
With the heartbeat of the water.

Rain sews the sky and ocean together
Like a watery tapestry;
The grey streaks are like thin threads
Being exchanged between two great beings.

The air is thick with salt
And the winds pelt me
With all the ferocity of
A pantheon of ancient gods.

The undulations become softer
As the tempest passes by.
Revealed is an evening sky of sapphire
With a few cumulus clouds gripping the horizon.

Behind me is a dark sky pregnant
With the moisture brought
With updraughts of warm air
Colliding with cooler air.

The wind dips to a breeze
And I feel a brief sense of security.
I'm floating upon miles of water.
I hope I'll soon find land.


Heavy breaths and far-off sirens
Punctuate the still air.
Gentle rain trickles over slats
And the sky is grey and bare.

I'm here alone with my thoughts;
They resonate within my head.
They're too loud to contain
But they're too heavy to shed.

I can hear a gull's squarking;
I can hear a slow rumble in the sky.
My silence is interrupted by a jet
Passing idly by.

Thoughts occur now and then;
Some of them I dispell.
I think of how the blessed in Heaven
Are really the unfortunate in Hell.

As floorboards creak and moan
With the voicings of my house
The world outside becomes quiet
Like a dying mouse.

My thoughts settle over me
Like a haze of foul air;
As my mind is overcome
By the faint silence of despair.

In a quiet room I unravel;
My mind's hems come apart at the seams.
So, this nightmare in which I live
I'm living as a dream.


You gotta stun 'em in
Your headlights
Whilst darkness prevails.
Put on a good show.

They'll not see the bait
In their sights
'Til it's passed through their entrails;
Only then will they know.

Make it big.
Make it loud.
Drown out small thoughts
In a glistening shroud.

Make their eyes bite down
Like vipers' jaws
On the images
Scarred on their retinas.

Make their approval -
Their applause;
Their approbation -
A wine souring to opprobrium.

When they look back at
The spectacle of
Glorious theatre,
They'll see they've given you centre stage.

Their happy glances
Will turn murderous;
They'll slaughter you slaveringly
With their once-smiling knives.

Tree line.

The trees shiver as if
Endeavouring to promulgate towards me,
But their roots refuse to yield.

I stroll up to the tree line
And stop -
In an offering.

The branches and stems extend,
Putting a gripper on my limbs;
Pulling me in.

Within a world of ivy and bracken
And foliage, I find myself
Absorbed into a colourful scene

Of various vegetation
Chattering away about how
Autumn is their vacation.

Life is soft.

Life is so soft
And it
Drips over
Your pale skin.

Through verdant vales
Caked in dew;
I will roam
These lands with you.

People are
All the same;
Lost in thrall
Of the game.

We are hard
But we float.
We breathe in;
We all choke.

The softness of life
Lines your throat;
Lights your eyes.

We are one
But removed
From the thought
That we are fused.

Human nature.

I thought about human nature in the half-light;
And how feebly I understand it.

What drives us?
I know not.

And so every night I now kiss her cheek
Because there's nothing else to offer.

Friday, 24 July 2009

An unmarked grave.

I met him in a crowded room;
We shared the same name.
Like two weavers working the same loom
We weaved threads of silken blame.

Her said he was from the future;
Only ten years hence.
His words were like surgeons' finest sutures;
He offered ten for every pence.

I didn't understand his words;
He told of subjects I hadn't tapped.
It's as though I'd never heard
Myself in tones quite like that.

He was just an embellished version of me;
Just me somewhere down the line.
And yet I knew I couldn't see
His convictions as I saw mine.

I didn't know if he meant what he said;
I didn't know if his thoughts were as mine.
And so I strangled him until dead
With a length of old fishing line.

I buried him in an unmarked grave.
I tried to forget what I'd done.
I couldn't see anything, save
The paranoid delusions I'd spun.

I met a man from my past;
His empty words crushed my heart.
In scorn his words cast
Tore me apart.

One night as I lay sleeping
I felt a tightness in my throat.
It seems the young aren't fit for weeping
For we're the ones who've given up their ghosts.

Friday, 17 July 2009

The curse of consciousness.

What would a bee be if not a bee?
Collecting pollen for the brood and the queen.
Evil in nature does not exist;
Nor does goodness in its felicitous bliss.

Good and evil are human concepts;
Other animals are without moral reflection.
Only the human animal can accept
That it has some sense of moral direction.

The only 'evil' perpetuated in this life
Is delivered by mankind's hand.
No other animal cares to ask why
It must roam the seas or land.

Orchids and rainbows just are;
There is no inherent goodness in beauty.
Only humans can truly scar
With their notions of neglect and duty.

If there is a deity up above
Let us not thank it for jocund felicity;
Let us deplore it for not dealing in love,
But rather in famine, war, death and misery.

All of our human emotions
Are merely evolutionary abstractions;
Only humans feel devotion;
Only humans feel inaction.

Whilst birds and insects flutter
People project human qualities upon reality.
It matters not a word we utter;
Only humans deal in morality.

Love exists in all animals;
It's just a biological necessity.
But humans have higher brains
And feel enamoured with levity.

Only humans feel 'human' love;
But only humans deal in hate.
No other animal will kill its own
For revenge or God or gain.

The Earth's beauty is neutral.
Sunsets care not for mortal eyes.
Only humans can mask being brutal
With religion's 'purposeful' disguise.

Don't take solace in colour or gaiety;
This world is not meant for you.
Don't put your faith in any deity.
Don't spend your days living blindly in a tomb.

Tuesday, 14 July 2009


In the 1800s to the mid-20th century
'Gay' meant to be happy; 'gay' meant to be free.
(Then the meaning suddenly changed to encompass debauchery.)

Synonyms emerged - from 'queer', to 'poof', to 'fag'.
Gay people were purged just because fanny wasn't their bag.
Muslim men kill homosexuals in the Middle East.
Christians once did, too, 'cause they thought being gay a beast.

Gay men take most of the stick*;
It appears lesbians don't get much trouble.
Sexual persecution is wrong.
Some people live in homophobic bubbles.

Christians like to tell gay men where to put certain things.
I say: take your religion and jam it up your rings!

So, the common vernacular is now 'homosexual'.
It's better to take a cock than to never have sex at all.
And if you disagree about certain sexual proclivities,
Don't be so imprudent as to intrude on other people's private activities.

*No pun intended!

How many....

How many stories of love and relief are there?
How many houses have been built?
How many lovers sleep 'neath the stars there;
'Neath the heaven's star-spangled quilt?

How many hearts have been broken?
How many kisses have been shared?
How many eyes have been opened
To the love they found there?

How many days must I wait?
How many lives will drift by?
How long must this thirst I sate?
How many lovers will slip my eye?

How many lives will I see
With a gaze and not a peer?
How many people have loved?
When will love my way steer?

How many surfaces will I stroke?
How many centres will I ignore?
How many people drift idly on?
How many people sit lonely at the shore?

How long will the Sun and Moon be separate?
When will day and night blend?
When will I bask in love's twilight?
How many days adrift will I spend?

How many words of caring will I misread?
How many kneel down and cry?
How many tongues in vain bleed?
How many lovers throw not the die?

How many people in anger spew
Words their hearts do not shape?
How many times will love renew
The hope that life abates?

Saturday, 11 July 2009


We put spin on everything you see.
Do you feel dizzy? You should.
Everything you watch or listen to has been arranged,
Designed and written.
The music that accompanies the shows you watch
Is meant to elicit emotion.
Your reaction means everything to us.
We control everything you see;
Everything you read, watch and hear.
We plan your lives so you don't have to.

We try to tell you how it is;
But not how it should be.
Those of us who do tell you
Are compelled by hidden agendas.
The good people are silenced and ridiculed;
Pinned as mavericks and militants.
The harbingers of misery are really the prophets of peace.
Others will have you seduced by fancy and insulated within your Comfy lives.
We control your governments.
We put words in their mouths and cash in their hands;
We remove all doubt from their minds.
We've invested a lot in you.
One day, we're going to collect what you owe us.

Spin is in everything you read.
You can't escape it.
But do try to remove yourself from it all briefly.
Try to poke your head through the clouds
And see clearer air.
Progress isn't far off,
But the door to the next room is locked.
Who holds the key?
Use your hearts and see.
Just love.
Listen to people.
See both sides.
Remain in the middle; be un-biased.
Be moral.
Don't be swayed by one argument.
Always look for manipulation and mistruths.
Never lie.
Never use.
Never squander.
Never give up your dreams.
Fight for a better tomorrow;
Fight for a better today.
And think for yourself.

Cats and dogs.

I paw at your skin
As I knead your lap.
I sniff at my food
And exit through the flap.

I bark at strangers
And open my jaw;
I pant, almost smiling,
And my tongue hangs down to the floor.

I swipe at the string
And meow in expectation.
I cry out in want;
I purr to calm your frustration.

I fetch the stick
Like some floppy-eared slave.
I'll love you always;
I'll wait at your grave.

You tamed us when we were wild
And put us in your abodes.
We sleep by the fire.
Our ears prick up at the phone.

We're curious when strangers
Through your doors walk.
We're your furry companions.
We're your cheese and chalk.

Cats and dogs are different;
Cats are proud; dogs are timid.
But a dog will let you know
When it thinks it's winning.

One is man's best friend;
The other, a woman's chum.
When we die, you'll remember our days.
But think: oh, what fun! How we larked and played.

Wednesday, 8 July 2009

Listen to your subconscious.

I'm just gonna slip out the door;
A Freudian slip.
I keep nothing to myself;
I don't even have a subconscious.
It keeps nothing from me -
I'm sure I secretly wish to destroy myself.
Listen to your subconscious
And close your ears.
Shut your mouth.
Filter the light which passes through your pupils;
Paint it pink; purple -
A more rosy shade of all your deepest turmoil.

The small things.

You foam at the mouth.
You're on your own.
You fucking love it, don't you?
You rant in a quiet room about a loud world full of quiet lives
Lead by noisy people who have quiet thoughts.
One day, you're gonna have to settle down.
It's scary, isn't it?
You're gonna have to love another.
You're gonna have to step from these dark recesses
Like a fresh stream flowing from a cavern full of bats and algae.
These are the small things
Which we overlook.
These are the small things
Which make up the big things.
These are the small things -
Building one by one to break the camel's back.

Leaky boat.

Your head's a leaky boat,
so you paper the cracks.
The water seaps in;
the water's returned back.

You forget such simple things;
you make many mistakes.
But you've gotta carry on;
you'll be a fortress one day.

And you can stand on high ground
and stare out in self-worth;
another prick who's made it.
You weren't swallowed by the surf.

So never be complacent;
always seek to improve.
Don't live within the confines
of a sound-proofed booth.

Saturday, 4 July 2009


Pinned. You've got me pinned;
Pinned like a fly to the wall.
Pinned with a tac and I bawl.

Pinned. You know what I'm like.
You think that I may and I might.
You ride me around like a bike.

But one day, I may peddle you;
One day, before you turn me blue.

Pinned - to your every whim.
You can dull me 'til I am dim.
When will you let me in?

Pinned. You know me well.
You're an angel from somebody's hell.
I think you're just swell.

And one day I may become your slave.
You inter me and raise me from the grave.


Recently, I can't sleep;
My life's too vibrant for dreams.
A few drops of LSD
Ought to perk me up like high-strength coffee.
I've been witnessing ill-effects.
The crystals and bubbles roll off my breath.
The devil came and fiddled a tune.
God shook his fist from his air balloon.
And all the grass was motioning
Like the blades were one without the wind.

Recently, I can't sleep.
The light just won't let the dark in.
I see the clouds-a-roll
Like they're bantering with such cajole.
I can't help but laugh.
I'm such a sorry waste of mass.
LSD fried my brain.
If I weren't so wired I'd prob'ly feel insane.

I conversed with my animal friends
And the DDT-dead ones rose again.
I had to check my feet were treading earth;
I thought I was in the stirrups about to give birth.
LSD, pass it around.
I'm waiting for Lucy to come down.
I had a vision of Gabriel.
He said Mohammed had been popping pills.
There's no better opprobrium
Than a trip to cloud-cuckooland on opium.
I saw a wicker cow.
Her wicker teats bloodied my mouth.

By the lake.

See her standing by the lake.
The water cascades down her face.
Her tears are one with the rain.
She feels threadbare and she feels pain.

The water is very cold.
The evening air smells of mould.
The trees are shivering their leaves
As she descends into dark and peace.

Problems, problems everywhere,
Tangled up in her hair.
Hair in blonde, flowing locks.
She's resting now with the rocks.

And she hopes she'll not be missed.
They search for her in the mist.
Her perfect skin, so pale and soft.
Her body's still but her memory's not.


I can't sleep
So I creep
'Round the halls
Of my dreams.

I'm so tired;
So full of the night.
I'm so tired,
But sleep won't bite.

I go to the
Bar at half-
Past-nine and
Stagger back.

I'm so tired;
I'm so uptight.
My eyes won't yield
To the night.

All my thoughts,
Late at night,
With knuckles tough,
Rap in spite.

So much noise.
So thick the air.
It presses down;
How I despair.

You're in my
Head and you
Thump the walls
Right on cue.

All my thoughts
Can't contain
The thought of you -
You rush through my brain.

Bell jar.

In your bell jar you don't sound.
You are there but you can't be found.
The only hand reaching out
Is circlin' the clock and screechin' out.
Oh, how did we become
So separate from the sum?
Oh, why have we screened
All the nightmares from this dream?
Well, you're livin' life in A minor.
Don't get me wrong: you have the right.
But life's one big ol' diner.
Just ask me for that apple pie.
You're not on your own,
Though you feel detached.
This is just a zone;
The world's just beyond that latch.

We ignore.

We ignore what's not pleasing to us;
And it fills me with fear
About the future for us;
Death bells ring in my ears.
And outside the theatre of war,
People live in misery.
We're sedated by our easy lives -
We're shackled; not free.
I want to go to a place
And have my tongue tied.
I want to hear musicians play
The music that gives them pride.
We live in a glorious time
And people are self-glorified.
They hear their peppy songs.
They drink their diet Sprite.

But all I want
Is to get away from this
Population of miscreants.
We've filled our pots up with piss.

But I shall think and hope
A better life's within our scope.
All we need is the drive
To sustain a form of paradise.
I pray for the sun as I stand to watch the dusk.

Saturday, 27 June 2009

Do you feel it?

I feel full with the load of peppy pop songs.
The love songs swirl and stir within my belly
Unleashing a plume of hot, steamy puke.
Do you know what it's like to feel love?
True love?
Do you know how far a person would go to maintain it?
Do you know how crazy it can make a person;
How paranoid?
It's not simply a perfunctory fascination.
It's not even an infatuation.
It's end-game.
It's the realisation that everything you've ever
Searched for rests within her being.
And you could lose her at any moment.
You may retreat within your ego if you're losing her,
But you'll despair for all time;
If not, it's not love you feel.
Love is indescribable.
Love is dangerous;
True love makes people bow to the mechanisms of insanity.
Love can imbue within a person a deep irrationality.
True love reduces us to half-arsed sentences,
Muddled sentiments
And a gratifying uncomfortability.
When I look into her eyes I feel peaceful -
Like I'm flying.
She's my parachute.
Now watch as she cuts me loose.

Thursday, 25 June 2009

Council estate state of mind.

It's a council estate state of mind -
You tenant the house and then you die.
The smoke-stained ceiling's corners peel;
Real life can't be this real.

The weeds are seaping through the cracks.
The buildings loom like widows in black.
You go to school and make cheeky retorts.
You play ball games in the court.

Your mum says she loves you dear.
Her boyfriend calls you a little queer.
Your sister's out getting fucked
By dead-end boys dead on bucks.

The TV screens release blue blares
From council estates everywhere.
The bingo hall is your mum's home.
It seems that tragedy is your throne.


Through darkened tubes in the belly of the Earth
we ride.
Eyes glaring like the bloodshot peepers of an imsomniac light the darkness ahead.
A wind ruffles the papers as it passes through the station.
People are packed like sardines in the little box-cars.
People sit at the platforms like perched golems;
The standing ones try to keep themselves distracted.
I sit on the train looking at my shoes;
That or the black nothingness behind the windows.
I step out into stuffy, sweaty summer air
And ascend from the bowels of the Earth
Like bad wind through a drunk's oesophagus.
I'm back in daylight.

Wednesday, 24 June 2009

On the line.

I'm standing somewhere on the line
between light and darkness.
There are no forces pulling me forwards other than hope.
Behind me, beings clogged with the intoxication
of my rotten attitude 
grope at me.

Faces smile and frown.
Light plays through the glass ceilings 
and startles me.

I'm on a train.
There's a girl in front of me.
Etiquette demands I don't stare at her
So I look at some far-off point in the distance
with a distant, removed gaze -
a poor man's Byron.

She probably has a boyfriend.
The skin on my elbows is blistered 
so I can't feel the water.
I might jump in and be boiled to death;
not too unlike the proverbial frog.

I guess in life one must take chances.
But how many chances must one take?
I'll try harder to resist these repulsive forces
which keep me removed.

A certain amount of objectivity is required to remain sane,
but I feel like shaking loose my sobriety for once.

McDonalds - an account of a spoiled lunch.

I went for lunch at 12.15
in need of some grub.
I eyed the facades eagerly
but bypassed all the pubs.

Out of the corner of my eye
I saw a golden arch.
I thought: 'I could use the Wi-Fi'.
My throat was rather parched.

I ordered some disgusting meal
complete with vanilla shake.
I sat and tried to connect
but the connection had a break.

I requested some assistance
on how I should connect.
A lady brought a booklet
which I then eagerly read.

The convoluted directions
put me in a daze.
But, after several minutes,
I'd passed that blurry phase.

I still could not connect,
and now my meal was gone.
I left the tray upon the table and fled;
they couldn't see me hither or yon.

I wouldn't have gone in there
except for my need to surf.
My lunch was rather awful,
and that rigmarole made it worse.

Tuesday, 23 June 2009

Making love.

We fumble around.
Lovers in a field of cotton.
I don't utter a word;
Neither do you.
My words could not clarify any better
The feelings expressed in our clammy, loving embrace.
Our flesh is full of heat.
And our heads are full of pleasure chemicals.
Adrenaline has my heart pounding.
Making love is never how one imagines it to be,
But we try to transcend that.
Losing all sense of position in the heat of the moment
Seems the daftest thing.
I kiss your neck and nibble at your earlobes.
You do the same.
The twilight of the room is overcome marginally
By two large candles burning with diminished flames.
We sleep without sheets.
We smoke cigarettes and drink strong coffee.
I hold you to my chest and stroke your hair.
You kiss my stomach, just around the navel.
It feels peculiar but love renders exceptions real.
I wish the morning never to come.
But it will.
And I'll love you just as strongly when the new day begins.
For once this is more than just sex.
I've had it a thousand times;
I could never have sex again.
Making love with you can't be reduced to an activity.
You're a lifestyle.
You're my lifestyle.
I live you; I breathe you.
I think that you breathe me.
And I've never ever felt like this before.

Monday, 22 June 2009

Sunday night; Monday morning.

It's Sunday night in Brighton.
The businesses put out their trash.
It's 2am. Seagulls draw in and enact what's in their nature.
It's 8am. Trash is strewn over pavements about town.

I leave the house.
The whole town reeks of rotten fish
and the acridness of human nature.
Is it me that smells so bad?

Council workers patrol, taking pictures of offending businesses.
Dustbinmen will arrive shortly.
The cycle will go on indefinitely; uninterrupted.
The morning air will carry the scents of rose perfume and decay.

Sunday, 21 June 2009


Come in darkness and reflect in light.
Bathe in beauty; die in blight.
Genuflect; extend your arms.
Life is made of charmless charms.

Every hour is whittled down
Into the fumblings of a clown.
Come today and you will see;
Come as you are and you shall be.

Come down to the river and drink the tears
The sky has cried for a thousand years.
The Earth's beauty is not for you;
The stars are simply but a view.

Come in throngs and come in droves.
The pathways diverge from the roads.
Walk along in rushes and grass.
Come to see the minutes pass.

Come to view the insects dart
And warblers sing; come to hark.
With each morning see the sights,
And rest your eyes each solemn night.

Come to till the very earth
Which fed your kin and gave you birth.
Again, will you crawl from the sea?
Come out to reach for what could be.

Come to me and take my hand,
And I'll take yours; we'll roam this land
For ever and another day.
Come and tell what you've to say.

Come to see the sky and stars.
The heavens drip a tinge of Mars.
This corner of the universe
Will grow as space swells and spurts.

One day when we have walked
The very roads which dreams have stalked,
The times may swing in view of change.
Our place we'll know - and not in vain.

Saturday, 20 June 2009

The road (inspired by and dedicated to the novel of the same name).

We walk the road hand-in-hand.
The wind ruffles our hair and coats it with dust.
The air is chilled and still
Like it's hanging heavily in suspense.
The trees are ashen stumps
Reduced to stick-thin remnants.
The soil is grey and sogent.
The sun is merely a bleached whiteness in the mottled sky.
The fires blaze about the hills.
The shopping trolley is a third companion,
Along with a six-shooter I keep at my side.
The storms blunder through the sky
And the rain flees from the crushing clouds
Like hastening refugees.
This road leads to the coast, I think.
God knows what's happened here.
I walk with my boy.
He's still carrying the fire.
I'm carrying the fire, too.
We must champion the fire.
Horrid spectres stalk the road searching for flesh.
What do we do now?
There is only the road.

Coast road.

We went driving down the coast road
and we ended up far from home.
We found a little, snug cove
and we parked up our car.

Just another dead or dying town
with a visible town-wide frown.
We snuggled up 'neath the sunscreen.
I don't need the stars: they're in my memory.

We packed blankets and a bag of food
and we slept in the wind.
The dust can't collect on you
if you're the dust's kin.

We went driving down the coast road
and we saw old naval yards.
Where once were colossal death boats
there are now just sailors' bars.

We drove on to the next town.
I looked for a sign to direct us out.
We're heading off just God knows where -
and I'm sure he forgets.
Maybe we'll find a fork in the road
and have our dinner there.

You can't cage free birds;
not even for a charge.
It's just not our season.
We'll live and die in cars.*

*I'd like to dedicate this poem to Bruce Springsteen.

An amourous flood.

An amourous flood shall traverse this towering mount;
And, with perpetual brawn, through sense's doors shall crash.
You'll be swept up, caressed and not held to account
For the fact you don't resist or appear abashed.

An amourous flood shall swell before your eyes,
And only your eyes shall see its true meaning.
For this flood of crimson passion is in the disguise
Of my love rushing, yet gently swashing and careening.

An amourous flood shall lift you from the depths
Of a loveless swell, sullen and vast.
You'll be carried to the gates of Eden in a bubble,
So hold your breath, and savour it for life's treasures past.

I'll take you where the flowers tell of Babylon's ancient scents.
For you're the only one deserving; all love's pleasures for you are meant.


Oh, I wish, I wish I wasn't here,
Then I wouldn't have identity to fear.
Feeling good inside my shell,
Decorated with clothes and sure-tells.

My core is vibrant but my skin is black;
My spirit was slacking so it got the sack.
Hunched inside a towering block,
Feeling like a pitted rock.

Someone take me and add some spice;
Trade my mixing bowl and insert a surprise.
The inventory inside me is untagged
And finding an item is tiring and staggered.

Your disappointment only feeds my beast,
And informs me you find my courage fleeced.

The gluttony killer.

I'll stab for kebabs and kill for wings.
I'll murder and maim for tasty foodie things.
I'll take my discontention out onto the streets
and pound, 'til ground, other people's meat.

I'll stuff my guts 'til full to burst
and fill my need 'til needing hurts.
As long as contracts come my way,
I'll kill for food; food is my pay.

The tacos drip a blood-like sauce.
My rippled body's dappled with sores.
I'll feed until my final hour.
If time were food, time I'd devour.

Please, allow me to consume.
I'll eat the Earth and I'll eat the Moon.
Life is just a feeding spoon.
Death is just life consumed.


Land is the canvas on which war is painted;
War: the product of minds tainted.
Deluded with delusions of self-grandeur,
And couched in feelings of splendour,
Men will claim their gods in candour,
And ask for valour to fight their contenders.
The points they fight upon are ownership
And the memories of an ignorant few;
They'll claim their spoils for themselves
And cite the texts that grant them their actions.
When every last square yard has been claimed,
And every spot is peppered with their ruddy, vessel-bound fuel,
Maybe then they'll rest easy.
Maybe then they'll know the actions of fools.


The words envelop and inter me,
Forcing me down into a non-descript crypt.
I choke, unable to form a single word.
Every syllable is foamy and glottled;
My tongue is weighted with the lead of a lolling giant.
I cry unknowingly as I wonder why these words possess me.
Why must they, like parasites, inflict their long, drawn-out punishments?
And so down into blackness I go, groped by the hands of invisible ghosts;
Spectres of a long-dead part of me.
I'll let my maggots eat away the decaying flesh,
Leaving just the once-ripe centre to glow and unglow into nothingness.
Seamless clarity gives way to a shapeless void.

Walkin' 'round the edge of the park (a song).

Here amongst the verdant space of my life
I'm surrounded by concrete and neon signs.
Don't go out after dark; walk within the shade.
Walkin' 'round the edge of the park's where I feel safe.

I used to know the path that led across the green expanse.
But now I know only the edge around my hazy plans.

Walkin' 'round the edge of the park, I see people on the green.
I see faces I think I've seen but hear things I've never heard.
I could walk through the trees around the boundary -
Where I cannot see and I cannot be seen.

I used to know the swings when I'd dream that I could fly.
If you'd push too hard I'd cry; if you'd let go I would sigh.

I used to know my hands like the savant knows his palms;
Like the couple know their qualms; like a winter-city calm.
Walkin' 'round the edge of my destiny,
I'm skating on the ice of a boundless sea.

I can view a time in summer in which I'll thrive.
I will maybe one day feel free to be able to be able to dive into the sea.

Verse chords:

E min 022000
B7/F# 221202
C7/G 332000
E min 022000

Chorus chords:

Amin x02210
Em 022000
B7/F# 221202
C7/G 332000

Amin x02210
Em 022000
B7/F#flat13 221203
B7/F#11 221200
B7/F# 221202

It's just not my time, babe.

I could be whatever I want.
I could study; I could strive to exert.
But why let myself be over-worked?
It's just not my time, babe.

Am I ready for the changes yet to mould me?
Or will the coming changes merely scold me?
Well, I'm scared. Won't you hold me?
It's just not my time, babe.

My future's a watch-face that's broken.
Time's irrelevant and the days are unknown.
I'll try what's palatable to my condition.
I'll cut my flesh, but not down to the bone.

It's just not my time, babe.
One day I may feel ready to accept
The changes I must take to inter my regret.
But for now it's just not my time, babe.

I used to know you well (Dover, 1945).

I used to know you well.
We both went through hell.
I wonder where you are.
I wonder what you've done.
I wonder how you've grown.
I wonder who you've known.
I used to know you well;
You used to ring my bell.
We used to play ball games -
Despite what signs had claimed.
We used to roam the parks.
We used to own the dark.
We used to feel so free
In a crushing society.
We used to revel in
The moments that were thin.
I used to know you well.
I think I'll ring your bell.
We both thought we'd die.
But, oh, how we've survived.
Though days are numbered, sure,
Life's an open door.
Life's an open door.


I'm not gonna take this in my stride any more.
It's my last line of defence.

I'm gonna try for you.
I'll get pushed to the floor and twisted and bent.

But I won't sit back and watch this prick
Tell you what you want is really what you don't need.

I won't stew away like I'm working on it.
The boy's got a mouth and I've got a fist to feed him.

I won't lash out - I've always been the pacifist.
But even Woody Allen wouldn't stand for this.

I want to say my piece; speak my mind.
My feelings were deceased 'til you shocked 'em into life.

I want the golden fleece - I'll rescue Peresphone from the beast.
I'll try so hard they'll think me contrite.

Two lovers.

Where are you?
I am here.
Here with you.
And I know it's cold but
We can chase away all the snow;
We'll bask in the warmth of love's welcoming glow.

And in my world
There's a girl
With a heart
Whose kindling needs a spark.

Where are you?
I am here
In your room
And it's cold,
But our love will not fold.

In my gaze
Is a girl
And her face causes a swell
In my heart.
If she knew
The control
She exerts over me,
She'd purchase my soul.

In her world,
There's a boy
Who's brave and yet coy
And she's tethered to him -
His every whim
She entertains.
She's dynamite
From her toes to her brain.

In my mind
I am weak
And I feel I can't speak
But she compels me.
And with every word
I'll try to please my little bird.

Quietly contemplative.

I'm quietly contemplative in all I do.
I keep myself to myself when around you.
I'm curious to hear what people say,
And the things I do give little away.

I'm want to sit in the middle seats
Of the upper deck as the young ones bleat
About this and that and stuff and shit -
I think they're indifferent a little bit.

I go to a cafe for a quiet bite
But the noise builds steadily up from slight.
And Borders books is a noisy squall.
The library is good but its stock is small.

I feel that shortness is my right.
Dark pervades and my day is night.
My smile is worn in between sneers
And my eyes conceal confused jeers.

I'm frustrated in every which way
But it adds a sparkle to my day.
I'm continually surprised at what I read
But my mind is rooted like a fallen tree.

With sweat dripping from your temples....

I am the wind ruffling through the maize of your mind
In a crowded room.
I am the rain falling upon the hill,
Wearing at the ground.
I am the cloud in a blue sky;
A patch of doubt; a shirt marked with dye.
I am the last shred of worry lurking in your mind
You've not been able to place.
I am the logic in every half-truth.
I am not what you need;
And yet I soothe.
I am a word said in vain
To comfort you and ease your pain.

Ghost in the machine.

There's a ghost in my machine.*
There's a phantom in my mind.
My brain filters what I see
And what I seek I'll never find.

All of the time, I'm in a daze
Trying not to acknowledge my expressionless face.
I once knew a man with cancer of the brain.
He would say the meanest things
And he thought we were insane.

There's a lapse in my consciousness
And when I sleep
My mind delves deep into my dreams.
Somewhere in there
I'm sure there's a place
In which I can see beyond the clarity of this illusory window pane.

I see a chair,
And it's so complete.
I see infinity 
within my trouser pleats.

*I know that the original 'ghost' in the machine applies to the mind and not some unknowable, undefinable part of the consciousness.


Well, I went walking through your mind.
I saw many things that I liked,
And I know that you know what you know.
But there's still doubt fresh in your mind
When there should be none.

Well, I've seen the stars behind your eyes,
Yet I've seen the clouds come rolling in
Time and time again.
Oh, you don't know what you have.
You don't take note
Of the things you possess
And it's hard to contest with the fact
That we live in a time in which people are well,
Yet jostling like the damned in hell.

And I've seen the wonders in your eyes.
You've made this mild man a more wild man
And I've seen beyond your disguise.
Your disguise won't get you far.
I've seen beyond your scars.
I know you're more perfect than I assumed.

The first time.

The first time I saw your face
My heart felt so out-of-place.
It could not sustain the sight
I embraced with my two eyes.

The first time I heard you speak,
I could scarcely make a peep.
Every tone of every word
Was the best I ever heard.

The first time I kissed your lips
My joints felt so unequipped.
Luckily, I had my spine;
Though you made me feel supine.

The first time that we made love,
We felt the softness of each push and shove.
We both kissed with heavy breath.
Le petit mort - the little death.

The first time that you told me
A baby was inside of thee,
I went out to take a walk.
You cried, wishing we would talk.

The first time I became a man,
I accepted that my glans
Had created this new life
And the ring betokened her my wife.

The last time I looked at her
Her quiet smile made me stir.
There is love behind those eyes.
There is life within my child.*

*This poem is dedicated to Sufjan Stevens and his 'Vito's Ordination Song' (Track 15 of Michigan).

Drift on (sailboat).

Goodbye, my dear.
I'm sorry I have to go.
I'll be back in the summer time.
I'll come with winter snow.
I've had such a good time,
But the good times killed me.
I'm sorry I have to leave,
But I'm still within you.

Lookin' back into my past
I wonder how you perceived me.
What mark was my impression?
Well, I guess it's hard to conceive.
We had our share of the good and bad.
Our sailboat rocked the peaks and troughs.
But we always maintained our smiles.
Our sailboat will drfit on and on.
On and on. (Repeat and fade.)

A song for Sarah.

Sarah, won't you marry me?
This ring's a life-raft 'cause I'm in deep.
I don't believe we're bound by God
But it's still a token of my love.


I'll do anything for you.
Anything for you.
I love you.
I'll do anything for you -
dive into the blue.
I love you.

Ever since the day we met
I stopped winding 'round like a cassette.
You're open to anything I say.
And I'll leave you flowers at your gate.


Life is over when we die;
There are no castles in the sky.
So carpe diem I live by -
I seize the moments before they fly.


Interlude (using power chords)

And I will write a novel just for you.
I'll compose a symphony and sell my shoes.
I'll eat sand if you're feeling cruel.
I'll be Peter Pan - I'm your fool.
We'll fly away to the Netherlands
And get stoner-faced in Amsterdam.

Sarah, won't you marry me?
My eyes are glazed and I can't see.
Love has made me stumble 'round,
But I'm not stumbling blindly now.


Livin' as a social oddity (a song).

Livin' as a social oddity,
There's a ring of friends and then there's me.
I've become a social chimpanzee,
Livin' as a social oddity.

I waltz up and I see them flee -
They like cheddar and I like brie.
Yes, I've always been a posh one me.
But as a consequence I'm an untuned key.


Oh, I'm living behind rose-coloured spectacles.
The world is much more rosie to mine eye.
I'm a ravenous pig and the world's delectable.
But I'm just a little bit shy-eye-eye.
I'm just a little bit shy-eye-eye.

Livin' as a social oddity,
In my head there's room for three.
Yes, it can be said I'm a little spaced
But it's awfully roomy in my place.

Livin' as a social oddity,
My world-view is a little twee.
All life's problems resolve themselves
If accept you're odd and can laugh at yourself.


I'll do annything you wanna do
'Cause my outlook is a little skewed.
Laughing at the things I see.
Won't you all come along and-a-giggle with me?

We will form a grand parade
Formed of trinkets that we've made.
We'll go to the shore and pass by the sea.
Now bob along in time with me.


Sorrow lake (a song).

My sorrows made a sorrow lake
And trundling in was my first mistake.
But what to do when you're a clueless boy?

The voices in books seemed to sell themselves,
To the point where I left my friends on their shelves.
But that dunder-headed mix is all I have.

I came to a point where I felt uninspired
And the ground beneath me became a mire -
All thanks to my heavy, sinking soul.

The blues you sing to nudge you on
When the iron fist of trouble's strong.
But something won't let this relent.

I went to a church to get some quiet
'Cause no one goes as our God is shite.
I don't pretend to be a religious fool.

Well, my sorrows made a sorrow lake
And I'm so cold I may skate
This icy ruin of my former verve.

I needed some degree of pep
So I'd be guffawing like a holiday rep.
But I'd just shoot myself right in the foot.

So I dug a grave and leapt right in
And raked the earth up to my chin.
I'll see you as a fossil at the end of time.

Well, my sorrows made a sorrow lake
And I dissolved into the isotonic drink;
I became just what I felt.

Well, my sorrows became a sorrow lake
And trundling in was my first mistake,
But what's a clueless boy to do?

It's spirit-gaining to feel low
But it sure as hell takes its toll.
For heaven's sake, just try to be more droll.
For heaven's sake, try to be more droll.

A girl I used to know (a song comprised of two chords).

You've necrotised your flesh
But you're wearing that dress.
Your fire demands another log.
You say what you mean,
But you're in no way serene.
And now you've gone the whole hog.
Well, it's a 21st century mass-penitentiary,
But, somehow, you're the extreme.
And with a presence like fire
You've melted my tyres -
How will I keep moving?

Well, at least I belong to this frozen mass,
When it's apparent your iron lung has crashed.
I'll leave you alone in your supremacy
Because it's obvious I'm not pedigree.
You'll fly out from the bulk of this meteor.
You'll be a shooting star;
A short life you're assured.


Oh, no.
Oh, no.
A girl I used to know.

I see a little silhouette of a man
All crumpled up in the palm of your hand.
I didn't know you were Turkish, dear -
The boys are kebab meat; your heel's the spear.
Well on the cards tonight is booze and fags;
Guffaws-a-plenty and childish gags.
You hit the club to throw some shapes.
You end up sprawled out like a starfish, babe.
In the morning you awaken with a headache
And it feels like two tectonic plates rubbing.
And so you ready yourself and go to work.
You're doing alright but you secretly shirk.
You can't wait 'til 10pm -
You're gonna sport your new gear at the clubs again.
You get ready and it's such a shame
'Cause your innocence is muddied with a stain.


Freaks (from the neck up) - a song.

There are far too many freaks today
Clouding the crowd.
They're jostling for their peaks today;
They want it all now.


Oh, it's not enough.
Oh, it's not enough.

Their dignity is reserved
For a table at which no one sits.
They stagger about town
Like stripped-down clowns.


These birds have larger beaks today -
They peck at the grain.
They all just want to feed and say
That they're not plain.


They all spout that they know when they don't.
They're cocksure and sure of nothing at all.

They're dying. I'm dying.
We're dying. They're dying
From the neck up.


F# xx4322
F# flat7 xx4320
F#9 xx4324
A maj x02220
B maj xx4442
E maj 022100

I'll upload a video shortly to Youtube to show the strumming pattern - if anyone would like to know how to play it.

I'm in love with you (a song).

I don't know what to do;
I am so in love with you.
And this could be my final chance
To set about a romance.
This may not be something big
But I'm in a dump and I am Stig.
If you only knew how prepared I am
You wouldn't doubt I'm a man.


I just wanna give you what you want.
I just wanna give you what I think you need.
And if there's room inside your heart
There's room enough for me.


Oh, my head's in a daze -
I have entered a blurry phase.
You fill me up with potential.
Now watch my lips as I spill.
I'd go crazy without you.
I'm stuck in a rut but you pull me through.
And I'm not one for Hindu beliefs -
I've only this life and I want to achieve.


Who'd have known love causes pain.
Well, I've been struck but I don't refrain.
I'll keep chasing the gap you leave
'Til you stand still for me.
I am one who loves life -
Just relax; don't make strife.
I respect your decisions
But I don't judge them as I should.


Today could be a good day.

It could be a good day.
I guess the weather will dictate
What we do and say.
But I would rather love than hate.
Hate's too strong a word;
Such a feeling's so absurd.
So I'll smile and refrain.
Even whilst the rain taps my window pain.
Say, where are you from?
Come along and say.
Hey, what do you believe?
Can't say I agree but I'll entertain.
There's lots of work so don't you shirk;
Come into the light.
It's a dark, dark world
And it gets darker every day.
So there's all the more reason for you to be bright.
(Pockets of light flare in a massive way.)
Knowledge can bear all the brunts of ignorance.
Don't hanker after the past;
Do what you can whilst you have the chance.

A life in waiting (a song).

A life in waiting.
I search for meaning.
I may find something
I can hold onto.

I'm searching the faces
For signs of humanity.
But I can't see the truth
Because of my own disparity.

But I'll go on searching, anyway;
Before my sorrows eat the day away.
I go on searching for something to nurture my soul.
I go on looking for the piece of the jigsaw to make me whole.

Down corridors; in viewless rooms
I stare at the flickering lights,
As people burst before they bloom
And go trundling into the night.

In cocktail bars and smoking rooms
People discuss today's affairs,
As if talking about the goings-on
Will ease deaths occuring everywhere.

A life in waiting.
A life in waiting.
The world's your oyster,
But it's poisoned with mercury.*

*So let's begin the clean-up operation.


A minor
A minSus4
A minSus2
E maj
C maj
C maj7
F maj
G maj
D maj

I'll upload shortly to Youtube.


I don't want to be alone any more.
I just want someone's key
to open my door.

I've been lost in the wilderness for too long.
I seek the settlement of your heart;
a fire in the dark; the lyrics to my tune.

I don't know why I need you;
I just know I need to
end this lingering.

I seek the solace of your lips;
to have your fingertips
repair my wounded wings.

I am.

I'm Navaho
And I'm Cherokee.
I'm Teton Sioux
And I'm Apache.
I guess I'm a fractured vase
Stuck together with glue.
But I'm more in touch
With who I am
Than nationalists
Or Uncle Sam.
Just because I'm based here,
It doesn't make it my domain.
Nationality is merely incidental to birth.
I won't follow a country blindly, for what it's worth.
I'm an Indian
And I'm Chinese.
I recall drinking
From the Euphrates.
I'm a travelling man
'Cause I feel purged from my land.
The plants I am; the animals, too.
I am the land and the water blue.
I swell and rise and I'll sink when I die.
And maybe one day I'll be a part of you.

When the fever hits the fevered ego.

My fevered ego caught a fever.
I found control and pulled the lever.
I found that words are only right
If they express my state of mind.
So verbose and unnecessary.
The novel grows just barely.
This competition has worn me down.
I'm fine with knowing I'm fine without.
And I would lie and I would plate
Up all these false truths I may fabricate.
I'm wrestling with my fevered mind
But when I mean what I say it comes out fine.
There's no explanation needed.
I think my quota I've exceeded.
No one likes a know-it-all.
I best put it to use lest I may fall.

Lonely streets.

I think I feel like crying.
It's been a long, hard day.
I think I may need a lie-in,
No matter what my boss might say.
Well the sun's out, so what the hell.
It's a good day with a fine weather spell.
It's been rainin' for about a month.
I've been feeling a detatched cunt.
I walk these lonely streets,
Bearing suspicious eyes and fox-fleet feet.
The people don't look amused.
The pavement makes us feel bruised.
We're so independent that
We forget we're dependent.
We all have faith in
A system that is shaking.
I walk these lonely streets.
People are consoled by packaged meat.
We feel that much better
When we're shopping in fair weather.
We're supping at our cider
As our shadows grow that much wider.
We're not really thinking.
There's no time for blinking.
I walk these lonely streets.
I rush with fox-fleet feet.
I amble here and there.
I scramble with people everywhere.
I want to get away.
It takes time and cash and sway.
We all feel like we have years,
But years don't think in the same way.
I feel like maybe cryin'.
It's been a long, hard day.
I think I may need a lie-in -
No matter what my boss might say.

A single man. (A terrified man who's found himself in a Benny Hill sketch.)

A single man upon the pavement feels terror on the street.
His eyes glide from woman to woman as he steps with giddy feet.

A single man feels beleaguered and overwhelmed
When a tirade of elligible bachelorettes comes a-crashing on his shell.

A single man will feel a rapt sense of disgust
When every woman passing is just flesh-encased lust.

A single man, it seems, may never be free
Unless a valid reason for being single there be.

A single man is swolen on introversion,
Yet expounds extroversion in noisy, brief aspersions.

A single man is wont to sleep eternal in the rafters of his ceiling,
Until a woman curious enough to do his emotional laundary irons out his feelings.

Floating downstream.

I was dead weight, dead-pan; strung out far,
Like a solo bass line on a bass guitar.
A recurring dream; a sunk paddle boat.
A shit moving downstream eager to float.
I was lead-heavy, bed-ready; always fatigued;
Like I needed rest so I could get more sleep.
A chump in a dump rutting through trash.
As plain as sausage, beans and mash.
I was constipated until I met you.
My feelings were bunged and I couldn't poo.
I was a torch in the night with my batteries dead.
I was fallout and almost everyone had fled.*

*The worst thing is that this poem still applies to me! (The preceding exclamation mark masks a profound sense of despair.)

Crystal ball.

Gimme a crystal ball and I'll break it.
I don't even care if I make it.
The future is not mine to see;
I don't want future memories.

Well, that crystal ball - I'll forsake it.
Your best guess is we'd better shake it
Right on out of that door.
We'll go where time won't haunt us anymore.

I like drawn-out summer nights.
The buoys at sea all flare so bright
Like they're reflecting patterns in the sky.
The sea air's got me on high.

Well, every day's pattern's the same,
But you could tell me it might change.
I will take you at your word,
For I don't care what comes my way.

Well, gimme a crystal ball and I'll break it.
I don't even care if I make it.
I just want you by my side.
Come what may, I will survive.

I'm leaving home.

I was born in this place.
I was born here and raised.
And now I'm leaving home,
'Cause home's not the place I know.

I'm searching for a place
To sow my seeds of disgrace.
And from them may grow
The stems of feelings I know.

I want to love. I want to feel.
I want to forget we insist this is real.
I'm not imperfect, but I'm not far off.
I seek clearer air. I want to shake my cough.

I'll visit you (a loving message from a middle-class, dead, middle-aged American father who lived somewhere in the suburbs of an average city).

I'll visit you in your dreams tonight.
I'll see you with the morning light.
Though I'm not here,
I'm not gone - don't you fear.
With messages in a thousand tones,
I'll lift you up when you're alone.
The structures of your memory hold images so strong, you see.
Memories are indispensible,
So don't feel reprehensible.

Do you remember being six?
The willow stooped like it was sick.
The picnic blanket was rose-red.
We were lain still as if we were dead.
And at your first hockey game,
You stopped the puck with every save.
I looked so proud.
You played your heart out.

And as I was lain about to die,
I told you that you shouldn't cry.
I would've told of a better place -
Though I couldn't lie right to your face.
I couldn't lie to myself;
This life alone holds all the wealth.
I'm not sure where I'll go,
But I hope your heart will be my home.

When you lie down to sleep,
Don't you ever think to weep.
Though, in your mind, you feel pain,
Know that you'll see me every day.

Day sleeper.

I used to wake in light
And sleep 'neath stars.
But now I stay up all night
Just to see the light transition steadily from dark.

I can see the hue of a morning red give way to azure blue.
And cumulus clouds dot the horizon;
The yellow is splayed through.

I awake and I look at your sleeping figure;
A spectre; a ghost from a dream.
You're pastey-white.
You're pale moonlight.
Your more beautiful than beautiful has seen.
(You're the jagged rock lifting me aloft in a dark, menacing sea.)

As the sun chases its arc to descend into dark,
I wait for a morning sign.
The stars shine brightly then fade,
Then a closer star starts to rise.

Animal stigmatism.

A man became a cockroach.
He writhed on his back.
He hissed in some cockroach tongue
And his family wished back the man.

A woman became a mantis.
She gorged on the blood of men.
She feasted on their swolen funds
In order to pad out her den.

A boy became an earthworm.
He hid in a recess.
He thought the depths much safer,
So he barely showed his head.

A nation became a swarm of bees.
They needed nectar from other countries.
Although they had already amassed so much
Their honey surplus just wasn't enough.

A man became a cockroach.
He rutted through the trash.
He said: 'So long as I stay alive
I'll use dollar bills to wipe my ketchupy stash'.

For two people in love,
It's animal magnetism.
For all the rest of us,
It's animal stigmatism.

For a person in death,
It's profound mysticism.
For bugs in the ground,
It's generous humanism.

For a person in love,
It's animal magnetism.
Yet we still all suffer the same
Animal stigmatisms.

Forget who you are.

Forget who you are; you have no face -
it's just a tag for other's to trace.
Our flesh is the same: destined for dirt.
We're not destined for the stars,
but we were born in them for sure.

Forget who you are and become one with nature.
We're under her influence and can never sedate her.
Science is progress and reason is hope.
But progress brings danger when faith obscures our scope.

Forget who you are, and don't trap yourself in mirrors.
What you have is short, and beauty works with fickle fingers.
Love is the key to liberate our souls.
But love can be a cage when love goes down the hole.

A treatise on humanity; 
a look into the soul.
Soul in inverted commas, 'cause life ends when flesh turns cold.
And there's no God to keep us; no fanciful notions to behold.
The bare facts are all we have.

Warmth abounds but we're tuned for cold.
Warmth abounds but we're tuned for cold.

A summer night.

The Moon hides its face
But streetlights are unabashed;
They shine like careless stars
In a night of deepest ash.

The souls are tramping the streets -
It's Friday and the week's been hard.
Conversations will be played out.
Wounds will heal and fresh ones might yet scar.

The windows are yellow and dulled
With the light of 50-watt bulbs.
Students talk through the night,
With remorse, laughter and cajole.

The morning will come early;
The solstice is due two days' hence.
The evening will stretch to 10 pm
And the morning will come like a wench.

And slowly the days will grow shorter,
As agreement is paid unto the night.
We'll slip ever closer to darkness
But be saved by earnest light.

Jarred potential.

Jarred potential, our lass bears.
But pressure keeps that lid firmly sealed.
Whenever oxygen creeps in and cumbustion flairs,
She puts pressure upon the lid to have any iridesence killed.

Jarred potential, our lass stores.
But pressure keeps what's contained contained.
So, our precious girl will trundle forever more;
Her colourful stuffing will reside inside,
Though her extremities may seem plain.

Jarred potential's a thing our girl knows.
Her musings are cut short by those of us who 'care'.
So all of that potential's thrown to the throes
Of that jar she keeps just who knows where.


I'll employ tactics to win your heart.
But I may only ever win it by chance.
Although it may be by happenstance,
I'll hope for a passing comment and circumstance.

Love has a way of re-writing the brain,
And engendering a two-second delay.
But may those lost seconds not die;
But rather be repaid when I look into your eyes.

I'll employ tactics to make a link,
Although I'll probably overthink.
Will you see through my fumbled words
And see the clarity just beyond the dirt?