He had never realised
that everything was moving
until it stopped

One pill
and the joyous ramshackle journey
dug claws into the soil
and froze

and turned

The things he had known as trees
began to bend
to curl towards him
gnarled eyes glaring,
tendrils groping

The dog, his faithful companion
rose painfully on two legs
grew shoulders, arms
bared fangs and snarled

Rocks rose from snoring mountains
to grind their ancient jaws at him
and the sea folded in on itself
in disgust

Paralysed he stared
as the sky climbed down
defeated
and the sun pulled back
its shining mask
to show the grinning, vengeful skull beneath

Nothing could touch him
but all could see him
exposed, brutal, foolish, ridiculous
and desperate, desperate

for death.

Well it was Tarquin's idea, actually.
It came to him after watching 'Slumdog Millionaire.'
Have you seen it?  Marvellous film.
Such resourceful people.

Anyway, we were looking at schools,
and the local comprehensive -
simply ghastly - we couldn't put Eugene through that.

But two blocks away
there's a school for the blind.
Ofsted simply raved about it.
So, we popped the old eyes out
- easy as
- and Bob's your uncle.

He starts in August.
More tea?

The movie shows
an innocent man,
misguided, perhaps,
but well intentioned
killing a creature
he thought to be a pest
and full of remorse
for the unhappiness he caused

In fact,
the man who killed Mijbil
never confessed
never repented
did it for gain
as otter pelts
were worth a bob or two.

A tiny ghost
haunts a ditch
by a single track road
in Scotland

And the vanished marshes of Iraq
know which version of events
to believe.

A million people
marched on Whitehall
every footfall
was a trumpet blast
every placard
bore an epic poem
every eye
flashed righteous lightning
and it made
absolutely no difference
at all.

A countless headed monster
rampaged through the village yesterday
smashing everything in its wake
befouling the water
and devouring my whole family
in its slathering jaws.

It really was no consolation
that it brushed its teeth afterwards.

Hunkered down
against tides and waves
they allow themselves
a certain satisfaction

Cold currents surge past,
bringing them all they need
shifting them not one jot

But in those currents
their own young course and swirl
adrift, alive,
gauntlet-running,
glorious

And the barnacles wonder
whether they may, perhaps,
be missing something.

Christmas died with Santa Clause
when I reached a certain age.
The magic revealed as scam,
the wonder now an act
maintained for the sake of form.

This descended, in my teens,
into outright distaste -
all the trappings
a failed attempt
to light a lost wonderland;
a decorated tree
incongruous and distasteful
as a chimp in a suit.

Anger waned,
disinterest set in,
and I merely wished to avoid it all.

But through your eyes
a miracle occurs:
Papa Noel, mistaking his season,
makes an Easter of Christmas
by rising triumphant.
A tinsel star becomes a true Polaris
and love,
for anybody's sake,
is everything.