we hid here
among the words we write
expressing ourselves
anonymously
using synonyms
similes adjectives
verbs nouns
to voice our fragility
our vulnerability
and self-doubt
implanted by years
of subjugation
intimidation
manipulation
bullied
into self-loathing
self-harm
even suicidal thoughts
well here we are
come find us
I challenge you to a duel
your intellect
against mine

Why do I have to fight,
Painfully make my point
Bruising flesh, drawing blood,
Cracking heads to prove I’m right.


Why do I have to lose;
My dignity, the ability to
Verbalise, the anger that I feel.


I impose my will; threatening
Shouting, my face a mask
Tribal headpiece, worn
For my battle dance.


Adrenalin pumps, muscles start
To fuel, from my thumping heart.
Red rage clouds my eyes,
Blocking out pain, fight or flight.


My opponent falls, injured, shocked,
By an anger so powerful
That my body is consumed,
With the impact of my exploding mood.

can you see the girl
as she traverses the street
a world of hope
on heavily grounded feet
she walks in shadow
she walks in light
the hope of creation
the burden of love
where she is going
we can only guess
she can take us with her
for the want of a kiss
to get to know her
walk in her light
or follow behind
in the shadow she casts

he brought in cakes and out of
politeness I had to ask
how old he was,
just twenty two
I've got T' shirts older than you
I can't even remember the stupidity
the freedom and immortality
of days that just escaped me
tossing them aside as though
they were in endless supply

you wait until every precious
moment is a gift
sunsets mark an inevitable end
and the days are dark
when you neither laugh nor cry

I bought a Leica camera
someone said
it must take really great pictures
I sat and watched it
for over an hour
it never left my bag

set a scene
to visit when you're alone
lets call it your happy place
it is waiting
somewhere in the trees
among the rushes by a stream
in flowering meadows
evergreen
permanent summer
caught in warm breeze
where you can rest
your ill at ease
visit as often as you can
feel it, taste it, soak it in
it is your freedom
beyond locked doors
isolation
the hatred of man

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

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

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

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

slowly I process them
like tracks on a record
giving nature a helping hand
to enhance the music of light
and as I sit and look at them
they sing to me of memories
of Welsh hills lit by God
brought home as a moment
I can play over and over
until they become the soundtrack
that always makes me feel
I'm alive

A room devoid of life
no less bland
than a hole in the ground,
but with a little more light
functional, bed, chair, table
and an intangible fear
of something it has (in abundance)
time, and plenty of it

what is worse
a picture of a *****
or a picture of a gun
for some reason
we have it in our heads
a **** is wrong
but somewhere someone
is thinking how cool
it would be to shoot someone

my wife watches tik tok in bed
sounding like she is trying
to tune in a radio to someone's life
so many voices fading in and out
or maybe a spirit box with a message
from the other side

I'm with Johannes Gutenberg
some 570 years behind
the smell of the print as much
an enjoyment as the words inside
the book I am reading
about his life

we lie
a respectable distance between us
centuries apart

her mind is chaos
thought after thought
chase each other around
a brain that never rests
half finished jobs
lie strewn across a kitchen
table where we cannot eat
and if she's lost something
watch out, better to let
the hurricane settle, for
storm winds to blow
themselves out than
disturb a train of memory
I have books and cd's
in alphabetical order
love the peace of our fish
swimming in their tanks
I am the eye where calm
persists and she sometimes
visits to rest her brain
I have learnt that love can
conquer so many differences
and this little ship we sail
has never threatened to sink yet

you have to have some belief
in yourself
without arrogance
hold yourself against the hurricane of life
lean into it
but try to make it natural
when asked about your achievements
speak quietly succinctly
don’t waste your words
on mindless fantasies be honest
but at the same time be a little proud
mention the good points
leave out the embarrassing bits
talk about the struggle
they like that
to see you’ve suffered
earned it
be a voice in a room
not a face in the crowd
be remembered when you walk away
let the wind carry you
under your tiny wings

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

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

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

There's a ******* the checkout
With long blond hair
Restrained in a scrunchie
At the back of her head
Scanning scanning, far away
Smile, looking past groceries
To a future self

I see a dream under that uniform
I see a freedom in that face
She knows there is a future
But it's not held in this space
Uncloned and unchained, one day
She will fly, on the wings of a voice
With stardoms far cry

A till away sits her broken dream
She's about forty, slightly grey
Last week on a warning for being
Late, her dreams have succumbed
To a different fate, she had wished once
For a chance to be free, but now
Has become part of the corporate machine

Bread from waxed paper packet
a childhood memory of mum making tea
snow white, thick sliced
fringed with a brown crust
comfortingly heavy, ****** smelling
the butter pleases me
covered under the tub lid
with a coated paper peeled back
to reveal a thick golden slab of
churned cream easily spread, cold
straight from the fridge onto waiting
fibrous surface, allowing it to sink in
cheese in a yellow block, related to
the butter in so many ways, dairy
a long lost brother, sliced thick with
a proper knife with the pointed curved
tip, designed to ***** and pick up
each slice, placing carefully on the bed
prepared for it to rest, ready for the final
ochre coloured element, mustard, from
a glass jar using a teaspoon, to dollop
before resting a second buttered slice
on top to make a creation, a taste sensation

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

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

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

The air was different back then, somehow lighter, less heavy metals floating around and nuclear sunsets I suppose. I was born in the 60's but the 70's are my era, long hair, flares, large collars and music that still haunts today. What you need is children to amalgamate past, future, present. With their mp4's, downloads, (records and CD's old hats no one's wearing anymore ) tv box set binges, live pause, catch up, iPads, iPhones, igiveup. Technology speaks to them in so many different tongues and guises, the world has shrunk down to "someone is typing" messages from the other side of the world, nay the universe, friendships based on snapchat, facebook, twitter that don't even have the decency to start with a capital letter, Skype, facetime, with people you don't even have to 'know' coming round wanting tea and outstaying their welcome, instead hanging back in the ether waiting for the right moment the right meme to slot into the conversation. I sit and let it all wash over me, a tide ebbing and flowing long into the night, stretching time zones and bedtimes to the limit,  in fact talking beyond bed, those waves never sleeping always whispering, I share music and photographs that are things from my life, they will never understand beyond the boring stories I tell them, a fount of useless information that flows, analogue from the corner of the room, the old man, the old days, you never had it so good, I am in awe, everything new, all to discover, everything to play for, world  full of possibilities, not the same old 9-5 humdrum waiting for the weekend so we can pretend to be free again, it's all happening now. I enjoy these moments as an observer, no need to join in just sit and smile, with an occasional LOL or amusing emoji. My daughter bought Hotel California on vinyl the other day, I'm still in there, somewhere.

where Hollywood's celluloid dream
is reflected off silver screen
into the consciousness
of audience's expectations
sitting
in amphitheatre auditoriums
amid
whispered conversations
plot revelations
spoiler alert
sweet packet crinkle
coke slurp
popcorn rustle
where held hands
make promises breached
bases reached
love declared
for a fumble on a back seat
childhoods spent
getting out from under
grownups feet
the good guys won
the bad guys wore black
where a thousand shots fired
nobody died
in the end
aching legs brought to life
to leave with
a head full of stories
unrelated to real life

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

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

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

close
like next to me
emotionally touching
I love you
close
like a door
slammed on an argument
a last word
finishing a relationship
ending a meeting
how funny the English language
so much room for misinterpretation
so much scope for joy
or crashing
disappointment

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

I've fumbled
dropping my dignity

it's not a lol
slapstick moment
more foolish tragedy

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

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

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

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

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

I scream at the demons
pushing over indiscriminate objects
tripping me through clear doorways
knocking things from my feeble hands
laughing constantly in my head
like evil clowns

tale as old as time
a gram to get inside your mind
find a space to settle down
trip into alternate realm
away from sorrow
away from pain
this is your big release
beauty and the beast

I have a theory
that when the world ends
for mankind
all that will be left
on a piece of wasteland
is a Coke machine
still lit
it will sum us up
perfectly

Black rain falls
ice cold
emotionless

desolate tarmac roads
puddles of ugliness form
devouring light
drawing in the world
dark matter
the abyss lies beyond
headlight's reach

reflected buildings distort
as cars spin
aquaplaning tyres
across mirrored
mercurial surfaces

downdraught suppresses
exhaust fumes
as dragon automobiles
slither their hissing way
neon lit fire breathing
monsters of road and byway

home is measured
by the length of the next queue
rather than miles per hour

how do you feel

the silence weighs heavy between us

gone the friendly how ya doin’
for which I had the stock
I’m fine how are you
now we’ve brought real emotion
now we’ve opened a door

I really haven’t a clue
I’m a little sad
because winter makes me feel that way
among the trees shedding leaves
something dies in me
there is the loneliness of Christmas
from when parents wanted the cuckoo
to leave the nest

I’m happy when the sun shines
casting smiles among the shadows
I’m afraid I’ll live this day
with the disappointment of any other
little achieved in too short a time

how am I
I feel like
a hurricane in a tunnel
a fall on a spiral stairway
a dark stain on a white carpet
an accident in a car park
a raindrop on the windshield
of a moving car, an unseen shooting star
a baby feeling hunger for the first time

I feel like I’m going to burst into tears
for no apparent reason

I feel the money for this hour was wasted
I’m leaving going nowhere

sunrise
over concrete and stone
reflected in glass and steel
the metal river flows between
as everyone leaves but never goes
seeing with their eyes closed
never enough to take their fill
onwards upwards hungering still
trying to grasp that corporate dream
luring them at every turn
faster and faster to the setting sun
they are all running to stand still
looking for happiness
unfulfilled

I sit and eat potato chips
on my couch in front of tv
I am a cannibal
sofa surfing
channel hopping
media crawling
it's the only exercise
I get these days
too busy observing
to join in
my critical critique
leaves me astounded
as to how absurd the world can be
missed penalties and opportunities
keep me ranting
panting in disbelief
reality isn't reality tv
everybody becomes an actor you see
they're just not famous
enough yet to be celebrity
one of these days I'll make the news
headline report with shocking footage
couch potato ate himself to death
binging on a 52 inch flat screen.

the birds sing a little louder
each morning
or am I imagining it

dolphins have come to play
in the canals of Venice
along with beautiful white swans

nature is coming alive
no longer forced into the shadows

as we stand on the edge
of our extinction
I'm getting a feeling of
about time
and good ******* riddance

the air outside is still
as though the world
is a living room
and the trees furniture
shouts arousing fear
sound close at hand
aggressive threatening
as though directed at me
a tiny spider crawls
up the front of my shirt
one of those that makes
a web of your head
and itches all day
a car more noise than power
echoes it's exhaust sound
round the terraced houses
then
all becomes quiet
as though waves have
mellowed into a millpond
a bird sings
the most haunting beautiful
refrain,  lonely chanteuse
filling the airwaves
finally I sleep again

these are my coward shoes
we have walked many a mile
leaving trouble behind
unafraid to lose

they are comfortable and warm
with a slight smell of deceit
to be a coward you lie
keeping your happy feet

I wield this body like a weapon
crash test dummy on a suicide mission
all journey and no destination
pulling fuses while the car is in motion
bodywork beat up but engine still functions
travelled to the moon and back
in miles but not realization
put here on this torture track
an illusion of freedom mixed with
fear and excitement
the windshield has gone
and the seatbelt is broken

Geppetto didn't make me
God did
no matter how broken I am
he's not fixing me
any time soon
and I never was a real boy

Your poetry is like
Liquorice
Or
Pernod
Or
Absinthe
Believe me, I want it to be sweet
Get me drunk
Hallucinate
But that ****** bitter taste
Keeps coming up
All I can feel is nauseous
So, I put you back on the shelf
Waiting for the next
Charity shop run.

you are fumbling about
sonar disabled
looking for a direction

everyone can see
where this is going
and it's not pretty

we wait
the friendship net outstretched
for your fall
from grace

Omnipresent
Voiceless, faceless  hatred
Unwillingly accepted
By data communication,
Even when you're not there
I feel you, words piercing
Through flesh, deeper
Than the love of family ties
Criticism, every little thing
Scrutinised.
I am left with one door open
Follow me if you dare.

I held the door open
for the man who let me in
but he decided to stay
and grace us with his presence
for at least a while longer
a chance
to get to know who is
inside the armour
a putting down of the shield
hidden behind for so long
even after great personal loss
he gripped my hand
with affection rather than
hanging on for dear life
and every time I leave him
alone in his hospital bed
I feel a slice of the great loss
I very nearly experienced

my constant companions
are worry
with her sister
fear
dark angels
that clip my wings
so I cannot fly
cannot believe
cannot rest
they can leave
any time I want
I just have to have the courage
to let them go
but how I would miss them
those soft doubting voices
whispering my imprisonment
with the very best
of intentions

she wants to find the
source of my unhappiness
as though it is a thing
we can search for like
a talisman and destroy

she wants to find the
source of my unhappiness
as though it’s a place
we can move from and
just not go there anymore

not even I understand
why it is I feel so sad
among my loved ones
my tribe, but every new
day there is always rain

I love you ferociously
With the anger of protection
The heart of a lion
The soul of a unicorn
Indulged your every fantasy
Secrets kept between you and me.

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

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

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

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

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

she arranged the words
like dying flowers in a vase
what once were beautiful blooms
full of meaning
a representation of their passion
had become just the same old letters
there to approximate
an emotion
putting the less shabby
to the front
hoping to gently communicate
that the whole ****** thing
was doomed to dust

so he sits and waits
for the knock at the door
that isn’t a knock
the blindness of a light
brighter than the sun
that isn’t a light
an open pathway
that isn’t a road of any kind
for the man with the scythe
and the winning smile
who doesn’t exist
well not on this plain
he can feel the end is starting
with a new beginning
and death
whatever that is
has come to take his soul

now he knows the answer we all seek

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

I feel love trip on the stairs
carless footfall of a suicide damsel
I see love fail in comfy chairs
the silence of a Netflix series
I taste the end of what seems like
a lifetime of omelette Wednesdays
I hear love crackle with all the excuses
of working late phoned from pub car parks
it's faint call from the bedroom door
"are you coming up to bed soon love"
the click of the refrigerator door
***** of another cold one the psst
of a bottle opening giving it's solemn "no"

the defeated man
sees the possibility
in grey skies
the hope of sunshine
cleansing rain
the defeated man appreciates
a moments silence
kept from useless words
empty promises
failure is a trophy worth winning
now life can begin
now it means something

Deliciously bored
Staring from a window, alone
Midwinter, sunday afternoon
Trees bare their skeletal form to the rain
That runs in rivulets down glass
Scientifically designed to keep the draft out,
Nowhere to be, so I may as well be here
Deliciously bored as I was when a child
Though then I wanted it all to happen,
The world to rush at me, engulf me so
I could drink it in, experience, digest, evaluate
But now it just passes me by, time to waste
Rather than worrying about wasted time
So for now I will enjoy this feeling
Nose pressed against a window pane
Leaving breath patterns on the glass
That is scientifically made to keep the draft out.

bring them on
I can feel them in the wings
waiting
breath baiting me
with their memories
if I can take them one by one
I have a chance
but when they rush me
jostle and push me
then I fail
life becomes too much
and I have to reset myself