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?

To be homeless.

I see you all flit about the streets,
Like pixies spendin' gold-dust with some pixie disease.
God knows I was just like you just a few years back.
Do you have some change, love? Tell me, what's the crack?
It's not up my nose; it's all over the streets.
I have no hoes. There are none lower than me.

Do you know what it's like to be homeless on the streets?
Go about your business, sir; don't worry 'bout me.
I used to have a wife; I used to have three kids.
Once my life was partly strife; now that's all it is.
I don't know what to have for my next meal.
I'll have the bread; I'll skip the veal.

I've got the homeless blues;
The blues are in my cold, chapped skin.
I may go to the shelter and check myself in.
They have three-course meals there.
It's not great, but it's enough.
It's pretty cold when you've been sold a life on the streets.
When your fabric's split it's hard to make ends meet.

Love song. (A horrible person's gradual understanding of the immediacy and importance of love.)

I'd write you a love song
But I'd probably just center it on me.
This poet may go on unheard,
But I'm glad when each word's so cheap.

I just want to get you into bed;
I'll get no satisfaction; only relief.
I'll be tetering on the edge,
Because I'm not ready to face this ravine.

Oh, what have I got myself into?
Why am I leading her up the garden path?
These pockets are too big for this clown;
I wanted something small but I pulled out a giraffe.

Has this been left wandering for too long?
It's a big world - she can't meet everyone.
And if I let her go I know she'll carry on.
But have I undervalued her so wrongly?

Everybody says love is blind,
So how will I find love when so am I?
Did I ever have my things in order?
Why was she so good when we were on the border
Of two different states;
Going two seperate ways?

I guess we wanted to run
But we succumbed to our malaise.
I don't know whether I should go.
Do I need a one-to-one with my soul?

I think that I've lost touch;
I need to paint my darling with a finer brush.
Love isn't imminent until it goes from bland to bright.
I've been sleeping in the darkness,
But now I see her light.

The eyes of confusion.

A letter came the other day
Posted three days hence.
I don't know when it arrived.
I don't know when it left.
I saw the sky turn red again.
I had blood in my eyes.
I thought I was dead again.
I saw mother Mary cry.
A vortex came and swept me up.
It took me through the air.
I fell asleep and began to sup
At a nipple I thought was there.*

*It seems that those two lines engender good grounds for psychoanalyis.

How to successfully justify mass-murder.

I believe in what you don't.
I've been duped by those who'd have you think there's progress;
Here, there's only regress.
I believe that there's a god.
Mine has a small 'g'.
Why does yours not?
Is mine just a deity?
Is mine just false piety?

Well, I'm gonna kill.
I'm gonna do
Just what others did in the past
To fight for you.

I'm gonna defend every last syallable -
Even when all the books are burned.
I've been brainwashed.
I've been sold
A means of living to keep me controlled.

There is no 'good';
There are only morals.
There are no gods;
Just religious quarrels.
There is no faith;
Just a way to ignore
The knob of the intellectual door.

We need some reassurance.
Did our gods take out insurance?
Well, the universe may die in the future.
For what it's worth,
With the cold facts I'm quite pleased -
No winning parties.

Just choose your superstition.
Take up your position.
Christians, Muslims and Jews.
Scientologists, homeopaths and Hindus.
I've had enough of it.

There's beauty regardless of what you think.
We're here by chance;
We could go in a blink.
Be thankful. Rejoice.
Be worldly - it's your choice.
Raise your children to question all.
Teach them to stand, lest they should fall.

Think tomorrow.

Bigotry, hate-crimes, racism, fear.
Homophobic, xenophobic, people-phobic, leers.
Live today; think tomorrow. 
Question when answers are short.
Take your time - it's just fine.
We'll be dead by the time you retort.

Eyes open; eyes closed.

I open my eyes and what do I see?
A wave of self-denial envelops me.
I'm curious at the size of it all.

I gaze into the depths of your being
And I don't like what I'm seeing;
Mirrored in you I see how I fall.

I look up at the night to view the stars
And points of light paint the visage
Of a boundless sky;
But somewhere it must end.

The Sun and Moon are changing shifts
Eternally, with their time split.
And we are here because of them.

The morning sunshine stirs to life
The plants and birds like a piercing knife;
The morning sunshine stirs the living.

Oh, everyday, without fail,
My mind is tired and trite and small,
And yet I crave to know it all.
With knowledge I'll pay my own bail.

I open my eyes, whilst you close yours.
You open your eyes, and mine remain closed.
I breathe in whilst you breathe out.
We exhale in preparation to be filled again.

The underworld.

Leave behind what you see;
Fold away your eyes and come with me.
You will see that underneath
The world you know is a different place.

Nothing's truly sacred -
Only what we regard.
Everything's of interest;
Even if it's not an art.

The world is active all the time.
Listen to its dance and rhyme.
The trees are slow and they behave
Like watchful elders - how they're sage.

The Earth's core is churning and the furnaces are burning.
The plates are always moving;
Colliding and grooving.
And in the earth there's a trace
Of animals that validate
The passing of time's slowest pace.
Life is an eternal race.

Many years have yet to come.
Uncertainty is in the Sun.
But certainly our minds are numb;
Who's to say this was ever begun?

Impoverished imaginations
Can't contemplate the vacillations
Of the events that shaped our Earth.
But maybe one day our eyes will work.