she's bought a lovely little number
from an established high street store
no thoughts for Bangladesh sweat shops
were children work hard to be poor

she knows she's going to look gorgeous
it's got a slit right down the back
shows the tattoos on her shoulders
and her **** are going to look stacked

she bought some new hair extensions
that clip in and really look real
with some false nails from the pound shop
no one's going to know the real deal

just value beans in the cupboard
and her kids feral in the street
with her spice addict brother on board
McDonalds on Friday's a treat

with a little blue pill from Bill
a proper night for a tenner
although last week it made her ill
this week it's going to be better

she's got a plan to get sorted
pull the dealer from the estate
once a few lines have been snorted
she'll do him at a discount rate

should make enough for her eldest
to buy that snide iPhone she needs
so that she can send her a text
when she needs to score her some ****

probably on Sunday morning
when she needs to just ******* chill
cause the comedown's really hurting
from Friday night's little blue pill

Five hundred miles to kneel in bitter, November snow,
silence, pierced abruptly, by magpie's chattering screech,
naked oak fingers rattling a chorus of disapproval,
withered bouquets, fast, with weathered sanguine ribbon,
nestled amid the glistening russet tapestry,
tired gold leaf adorns matted marble of black jet,
holding the word, mother, on trembling, blue lips,
Sepia recollections, eviscerated by the butcher of reality,
quarrelling emotions, sporting stark tattoos of injustice,
the stench of mother's milk, turned to rancid butter,
icy pearls, burning down scarlet, wind chapped, cheeks,
prompt visions of her in a delicate, white lace gown,
alone, cold in the ground, the worms feeding on her flesh.

The orchid, glazed with morning dew,
has no pretence and seeks no audience,
her desire is to reach only for the sun,
in true beauty, she climbs, uninhibited.

seek, always, to live unencumbered,
give yourself freely, without restraint,
they who wear the veil of persistent memory
are confined, forever entombed,

wrapped in the eternal shroud of solitude
behind granite walls built from hurt,
the boundaries of their incarceration
insurmountable, by even the purest heart.

This immaculate pristine page,
tainted, with meaningless words,
living testament to my ineloquence,
custodian of this anxious pen.

Nocturnes narrating awkward remembrance,
steadfast, stoic in the house of God,
fragile, childhood memories still whisper,
boys, displaying cultured monotone respect,
despite blatant hypocrisy and emotional neglect,
disparity of memory, underlying tension of conflict,
rehearsed eulogies, gripping the old oaken lectern,
orations, borne of duty, incongruent and painted,
with the brushes of Munthe and Gibran.

The winter bathes in nectar,
now that spring is lost,
play me down, down now,
beneath the biting frost,

stark magpie chants the sonnet,
counting crows the cost,
show me now, how now,
everything is lost,

riven steeples whisper dirges,
inspiration tossed,
show me how, now how,
we built this holocaust.

blind children hide in silence,
destiny's swift riposte,
wear your crown, proud now,
whilst watching from your cross.

born into the confines of parochial subjugation
beneath the glare of the redundant red brick edifice
the black and white battle of black and white
watched by apple cheeked clergy and the ubiquitous cross

infants ceremoniously absolved of original sin
lovingly swaddled in ornate christening robes
immersed in the gilded roman marble font
spirits cleansed with the holy water of guilt

copious drinks imbibed in joyous celebration
by inebriated clown nosed maternal uncles
ties ajar around a stained deck of cards
avoiding the sartorially immaculate undertaker's stare

obligatory weekly contrition confirmed
knelt in the dank confines of the confessional
penitent accepting continuous emotional ****
we all become one in this unholy communion

in pristine uniform of blood and snow cassock
from ornate oak lecterns gospels eloquently narrated
by a nervous child judged by assembled bigots in congregation
and appropriate conditions of worth applied

thoughts float by
like dandelion seeds
on the restless winds
azure speckled eyes
like painted butterflies
lost in turbid skies
over fields of tamarind
in violent haze
the copper sun gaze
upon sepia days
sanguine visions underpinned
none shall know
the crimson blood souls
but the black jet crows
eyeing gnarled ancient men
supporting ivory vibrant clouds
still paying for their sins

S.S.R.I.s placebos and lies
caught in between generations
I've come to despise

flanked by blatant hypocrisy
pestered by whining naivety

the resultant mental infarct
stented only by seeking
obligatory consolation in art

It's lovely that you're gathered here together
with so many nice things to say
flattered that you all look your best
in your suits and shiny black frocks
I'd have a few things to say, mind you...

If I could get out of this box

I found a teardrop in the ocean
and cupped it in my hands
as it ebbed through my cockled fingers
I heard you call my name
I turned expectantly to face you
and all I saw was sand

She....
came for me today
I felt her cold icy fingers
grip my heart
and begin to close my eyes
I begged
for one more day
to say goodbye
a moment
to put things right
I pleaded
had she never loved
and felt the pain of loss
her frozen eyes
chilled my frantic soul
her tears of pearl
cascading shards
of diamond glass
splintering my soul
an empathy with death
I felt
the sorrow
carried on her breath
I awoke
to see your face
I held you close
in my trembling arms
in the corner
over your shoulder

my death waits...

Referencing Cobain
weak and shallow
borrow the id
feed on the marrow
eclectic minds
contemplate
infinite feeling
borrowed
from the library
of thought
and meaning
the epitome
of Generation X
an addled confusion
love drugs
and ***
obsessed by allusions
allegorical
contusions
and who to quote next

I'm outside of myself
looking in
at all of me
my Original Sin
ruminating on what's left
getting in
healing the child
and appeasing the man
objective collective
perspective
understanding
the conditions of worth
internal committee
governing
organic self
confined to house arrest
discipline rejected
rebellion
abusing you
internal counsellor

Lament
hurt never meant
reciprocal
political
no more vitriol
sepia recollection
misguided affection
abstract distract
caught
in the family act
sorrow
borrowed
until tomorrow

We are all brothers,
of sisters and mothers

all sons,
of fathers and mothers

all daughters,
of sisters and brothers

We are all sisters,
of fathers, mothers
sisters and brothers

then who are you

the others

the others who live
with the shame of the towers

five minds apart
prosthetic heart
conscience included

four minds apart
blatant false start
wisdom occluded

three minds apart
poison tipped dart
looking deluded

two minds apart
look at my art
poems excluded

one mind apart
back to the start
it ******* exploded

Imaginary conversations forever lost in time
Trying to remember; to make it all rhyme
incessant rumination, eternal isolation
a child abandoned, Mother’s irritation

“where did you go?”
“My Daddy is crying”
“I’m hungry and cold”
“why are you lying?”
“what about school?”
“there’s nobody here”
“Why are you cruel?”
“what are these tears?”
“who is that man?”
“I don’t like his smell”
“why did you kiss him?”
“I don’t feel well”
“why don’t you love me?”
“what did I do?”
“I’m sorry if I was naughty”
“Please tell me…what should I do?”
“My Daddy just hurt me”
“with tears in his eyes”
“Then he told me he loved me”
“It’s him I despise”

A final blazing epiphany; screamed into the void
“Mummy… I know why Daddy hit me”
I was the image of You…

The conscience of one,
the temper of another,
a fist of a Father,
a ***** of a Mother,
Isolation my sister,
loneliness my brother,
Everyone's little burden
was all but smothered,
Mother's secret shame
left a life undiscovered

A moment’s clarity.
Truth; by majority.
the fetid stench
of odious hypocrisy.
An ovine Populus
all bleating the chorus
Paraphrasing whilst grazing,
and undergoing training.

Can you see the sunset through another man’s eyes?
Can you feel the pain of a loved one’s lies?
Can you comprehend an Ectopic existence?
Can you define my perception of distance?

Then mine are the eyes that I want you to see
Take a long look inside and sit with me
Talk to me with receptive eyes
And let’s talk of familiar things we see

Do you feel my hand through a barbed velvet glove?
Do you remember the warmth of a Mother’s love?
Do you understand that we each have control?
Do you really believe that I have a soul?

Shirley from Purley,
was a bit of a girly
Sylvester, from Leicester,
pestered Esther,
he professed that he did it,
simply to test her

In what order, should I read my Nietzsche                                                      
How the **** should I try and reach ya
Try to communicate, accused of tryin to teach ya
Beyond good and evil, now I’m a preacher

Havin’ fun with Friedrich
Sic erat scriptum
Syphilitic reasoning
Dominus vobiscum

Philosophy, Biology doesn’t feature
After all, we’re all despicable creatures
Battery farmed, intent on goodness
All of us failing, except for Jesus

Exercising mind control and thought patrol
What were you trying to teach us?
The purpose is to procreate
No additional features.

It’s not for me to explain
but it is for you to comprehend.
Empathy? that is always your choice…
please, listen hard… to more than the voice.
Come and feel this icy cold water,
how the silent rocks slash and tear at my feet,
how the incessant current tries to drag me under,
and how my isolation expands in a heartbeat.
Feel the panic as the waves crash over my head
burning through my eyes, making me blind,
feel my arms and legs,as heavy as stone,
Come with me Counsellor … into my mind.

is it white
is it red
does it sleep in bed
is it blue
is it pink
can you tell it what to think
is it round
is it elliptical
is it slightly sceptical
is it political, satirical, natural or factual
could it be conceptual or is it actually actual
is it purple
is it green
and can it be seen
is it indigo
is it black
so when’s it coming back
is it smooth
is it spikey
the latter, more than likely
is it angry
is it sad
and is it really bad
is it brown
is it beige
what’s its real age
is it grey
is it yellow
do we think it’s gonna mellow
or is it just orange?

I have nothing but contempt for my nature
And my self-imposed subordination
Always with the best intentions
To offer what I could
Misconstrued and misunderstood
The constant cause of friction
Wherever I stood
incapacitated in my isolation
incarcerated by my rumination

For the sake of congruence and honesty…
I can’t see past the fetid belch
of regurgitated thoughts.
Sickened by text book humility,
patronised by plastic empathy.
An original concept might not **** you
you’re an affront to Human dignity.
Person centred; the caring profession,
at odds with my apparent aggression,
I’m not an idiot, stupid, weak willed,
I’m the same as you … just mentally ill.

Incarcerated.
my brother in love
Isolated.
my brother in love

In whose name is this justice served?
A tragedy.
A travesty.
The measure of Humanity?

Constantly abused.
my brother in love
caged; like a dog
my brother in love

yet, precious art flows from your soul
the face of my newly born son
In our God, our vision is one

Unjustly confined.
my brother in love
kept in darkness
my brother in love

I send you light
and I send you strength
My brother…
In love.