Around time scarred columns,
Sun bleached waves swell.
No songs or poems
Can say
What these weathered walls tell.

Patter on down friend!
Leave no patch unclaimed.

Patter down friend!
Anew this ground.

Patter down!
Join the swell.

Rain drops shell station road
Hurst turns point thirty three
Degrees north-west-west. See,
The quiet stones ahead

Lower the lead scarred flesh,
The soul of this marred son,
Into the dirt it laboured.

How many times should
Gorgythion's root-stem
Lose its petal-wreathed head?

We spend our days watching, by the hour,
The Kardashians in their ivory tower

Fifty-one million one can make,
And yet from the poor we continue to take.

With another tape, they could make more
Here men are, paying, preaching; “she’s a *****!”

Punter, performer; why is only one disallowed?
Sexes sin equally; Mz Davidson would be so proud

But a role model she is! Some also bark.
What about Wu Zetian, Zenobia, Joan of Arc?

They are lost, not as important as ingot
Instead we’ll recall Weinstein, bigot.

Stories of their tweets dominate the BBC
But where is the plight of the LEDC?

Brothers blood on your arms
Coward’s salt on your cheeks
Heavy head in your hands

With such weapons of war
No Greek bones should litter
These flooded dunes of Mars

And still, rouge stained boys clog
That one final river
Gather on the bank. See
The line of Troys that burn

A cold swell tempers rage
To the dark it dies, fades.
Cry, sigh, a moon ray tries
To show that up against
Such stoic age, no man
Can claim he's free of sin.

I am here
I am here
I am here

and that is enough.

What can I not deliver you?
My left behind red leaky drum,
Last drop of water; rouge-hue.

Can love withstand a roof alone,
With no four walls, no chapel safe?

What went cold,
In the book,
That we wrote?

What young spark
Did we lose


I n  t h e   t i d e



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