such majesty

a nightjar call


eyes of a tragedy

after the fall


sprawling winter

baleful

gleaming


pale steps

hinter


ever redeeming


those before

swallowed whole


a horizon to go

My outrages grow
Through summer and spring
Pretty petals of yellow and pink
I tend to them in daily fashion
Growing them lofty is my passion

My incense, made of citrus and pine
Will leave you witless
Smelling divine
Displayed on a flimsy shelf I made
At just the right height
To hold your eyesight

My offendeds
Are of the finest genus
I won't pretend they're original
Seeing as the variations are thousands
And seedless
But just between us
It's easy to keep up
Spreading stones through the glass
Like a **** does

Clinically depressed
the clinic's a frickin mess
clinician's under stress
popping patients' cipralex
at her dinky off-white desk
still wearing last night's dress
reminiscing on the days
when she just tried her best

Head won't give it a rest
wishing she'd failed the test
could have been an insta queen
at least got in on the tiktok scene
instead she feels bereft of the chance
to take a breath

She'd rather take a slap
than see another fat smackhead
but she has to pay the rent or
start living in a tent
"It's a living"
that's her mantra
written on the pens
and every one they send
is another couple cents

So she just pretends that
what she does makes sense
punters in
prescriptions out
no time to make amends
patience measured in pence
she can potentially spend
perpetuating searches for
that promised happy end

come, look
see painted walls

see crime
see heart
see the last light fall
on abandoned halls

hear the running still
of a silvery river
through slivers
of a stricken city

time rushed away

run your fingers
up the rusted rails
flanking gate and chain
and with the same disdain
they show you

climb steady

taste the silt
stand
with wilted pillars
drunk on verdant shores

breathe a new sound
feel the stifled air
of a cloudless night
languish in your lungs

come, look
fresh walls to paint

I don't sleep
I levitate over the street
I'll dog walk Bo Peep before I talk sheep
I'm offbeat

I could dip a toe in your tea
and have you sip it thinking sugar never tasted this sweet
I'm low key

but only goin as low as a C
'cause it's some sight to see when you mess with the B
that's not me

Just give me some THC
maybe an e if I'm feeling upbeat
LSD
so I still don't sleep
I procrastinate for half a week
making gaping holes in sheets
having affairs with pharaohs and jeez -
where did he ever find they hos?
please

Them hos, excuse me
grammar's not what it used to be
before we were locked in our homes
by abusey wankers for profit
not ours, come off it
to build bankers coffers over some coughing

I'll take the coffin over the fear
open sarcophagus(es)
like some cheery old boffin on Hatshepsut -
and she's oot, how weird
I could've sworn she was left right here

Seems she was out all along
wrapped us up like a song
but don't get it wrong
this one's not finished
you made it this far already
stick with it

There isn't a limit conceived in time
that wasn't upheaved by an adamant mind
don't put faith in imagined lines
you
cosmic blizzard
ride the Pacific
wave with the light like some diamond wizard

Enlighten the night with your hieroglyphics
wield your worth
its lot
intrinsic
to the world and all that's in it
make today your favourite lyric
and sing it

Have you forgotten the painted tractor
that sits atop the hill
the rush of pushing through
rustling pampas
when the land you stood on was yours

Where the day was won
before one
and the sun was a horse with wings
when night
was where the monsters lived
before they moved in next door

How a fence presented
irresistible challenge
a mélange of invite and dare
so we climbed
to find our golden goose
and handled it with care

I come from the great unwashed
womb of the child
who didn't dare dream
from a scheme
where the last lights are embers
from ravaging concrete flames

I come from the house fire of
denatured childhood
abandoned architecture
indolence in adolescence and
wrestling with the will of the wind

I come from crawling smoke
lingering in doorways
lining streets paved with
pejorative and placation
where the insightful ask is
"wit are you lookin' it?"
and the answer is always
a wrong one

I come from malnourished minds
where the bytes outnumber
the starving they would feed
from where the drowned
still walk around
coveting concrete feet

I talk to the pines. I sit
under their boughs of perpetuity,
rest my head against a security of
surety I can't quite grasp.
I tell them I am lost, that the search
has been costly. I tell them
I am the red squirrel
who lost one too many nuts.
I tell them the axeman has no love
for the taxman, though both
have been cut loose. I tell them
nosotros fuimos hechos
para más que esto. I tell them
there are things I've done
that not even the clearest sky
could observe, that pride is the fall
of the haughty man
and what comes after isn't worth a mention. I tell them
Old Man Wibble may have been
a drunken fool but at least he knew
what he was doing. I tell them
my attention has leisurely slipped
into a dimension quite immeasurable.
They wave their boughs
like wings in the wind. I tell them
this song could never be wrong
for the music is our own.

They want to rub us out
like Jack never met Jill
vigorously
whether it's with culture or with pills
we're excised
by the rising tide below the hill
we'll die up here
who will be the one to make the ****?

They want to put us out
to pasture
like a light
They want us all to doubt
we have a real reason to fight
They've got us figured out
so They think
well, They might
switching up opponents
quick as day turns into night.

They want us to be quiet
as a mouse is to a man
They want our only diet to be
yellow eggs and spam
They want us smiling sweetly
like our teeth were made of jam
up here we only grimace
at Their sinister advance.

They want us not to linger lest
our love become the truth
They want us to move on
without a second point of view
They want us to point fingers
so that's just what we'll do
and who are They?
the question asked, the answer
could be you.

I was on my way to bed when I had this thought instead
I should lay here counting sheep, surely then I'll fall asleep
that's when Bo Peep broke in my window
started throwing about all this lingo and stood there on one foot like a flamingo
I jumped up requesting "what in the world!?"
she said she was looking for the final girl and if I happen to see her to give her a twirl
I promised I would 'cause I'm a Samaritan, gave her my word I would gather a garrison but only if she would show me her garden -
that's when she got mad, face red and hardened, quaking with rage almost fell out her cardigan, she screams
"Did you confuse me with Mary? I'll show you something quite contrary!"
I could tell things were about to get hairy so I floated out the broken window like a bloated fairy but when I hit the ground I landed upside-down so now I make no sound when I'm running around

I'm
stuck here
it's how I like it but
that's the third time this month
first it was Terrence
then Theodore
now me.
my limbs
are meant
for living
embracing
all things
from roots
to the heavens

Moxie?
I seen that once in a museum
next to the floppy
good old human beings
price of admission doesn't seem worth the plot
thank the poppys I was born a bot!

big pond
little pond
cardboard box

no fish
no frogs
one old sock

big street
little town
no one knocks

blacked out
windows
doors all locked

big lie
little man
walls that talk

cold sons
dark nights
eyes on the clock

dead winds
dying light
stars on a walk

big sky
little faith
clinging to a rock

In the thicka the Perth Road's pretence
millin aboot the fustian
o the ald "Hunter S." basement
(cuz there's nae Scottish writers ti name a pub efter)

cap scrapin the ceilin
Bohemian Monk Machine
gettin set on the tiny stage fir a bit o
funk-jazz-sumin-or-other

a hud ti step ootside
wee bit o fresh smoke
a few lads sauntered past in thir
designer gear an zirconian ears

"let's go in here -
nah, am no into country music"

it's ca'd Maker now but
ah it maks me is restless

so many once here
have now disappeared
long gone into the white

rambled and veered
on to paths unclear
faded from all sight

their bark was their bite
but this dark toothless blight
has quickly 'come revered

so we write
that we might be a light tonight
in lieu of the disappeared

It's the burst lip
slowly healed with tongues
softly
aching
warm as the sun

It's the grinning tooth
making incisions
sharp
through the heart
of its chosen victim

It's the once empty mouth
compelled to devour
the words in-between
the speaking in vowels

It's the voice that calls
before it's too late
the one
you always tell to wait

the engineers have left the building
architects now rule the roost
nothing gets made but there's plenty
tilting and cooing over the perfect view

I find myself
without a rhythm
a lack of lyrics
back in a prison
I thought
I'd escaped out the back
but the fact is
I backtracked
back by my own volition
and wishing
on familiar chains
to be free of dusty days
deep breath
inhale
choke on hope
and blow

time
just a location in space
that keeps you in line
puts you in place
take some off
it takes your place
ticks you off
shapes your face
makes you late
consumes your days
makes you nervous
makes you wait
takes you out
takes itself
offers wealth
exchanges health
for similies
and nurse's smiles
and promises
to stay a while

you are the vowels
that used to dance round these walls
the towels we shared
the midnight calls that lasted hours
the silence we found
the voice in the shower I can't quite
make out

you're the sandalwood mist
perfuming the air
at the tip of my tongue
the ghost of a prayer
from long ago
pervading my skin
resurrected in debonair sin

you're the long dark hair
on the nightclub dance floor
the black underwear
on the king size headboard
the trips to Venus
through sunset plains
brighter than ever
in the rear view pane

I sleep with the window open
so in the night
hope might float in

ah canna mind
the Spring in bloom
the buzzin o' hospital lights
the midwife's panicked rushin'
ti bring air inta ma lungs
or ma polymer palace in beige


ah canna mind
ma mither's greetin', when light
wis still entwined wi her form, before
colour drained fae her perceptions
or the shade o' the devil whit took it


ah canna mind the ald grey hoose
on a cracked black road in the schemes
or the wid paneled livin' room
an' stickin' ti dark leather
dreams planted neatly doon the side.

I want the intimacy
the bird has
with the duty-bound bee
dining on their innards
in the red oak tree

To stand tall
as the proud branch
the squirrel calls its home
welcomed in red-carpet-leaves
stripping bark to bone

I want the bite
of the patient snake
to shed the weary skin I've fashioned
to lie awake on sleepy hill
no chance of dinner passing

in view of the kitchen window at night
ruffled voiles billow softly inside
I want to know the voice
that raises living light
behind closed doors

to be the warm comfort
a cup of tea pours

I wanted to tell you, that it's been nice


                                    I think we're all going to die



Really?


                That's true


                                    I made it up



Nothing happens

                                 afraid of underwhelming

I have not spread my toes on the banks of Loch Lomond,
nor hearkened the call of the Northern shore, drowning in its boundary with the kelpies.

I have stepped on blue suede shoes
and been dragged in to selfies.

I've never tasted a pastry en français
perusing Parisian cabarets
never took a walk with la Seine by my side, smoking cigarettes in the hazy moonlight.

I have seen dolphins spend summer nights in the Tay, laughing along the Ferry Esplanade.

I have not seen New York scrape the sky
I have seen a lot of people scrape by
I have not witnessed a single display
compare with a simple act of the heart.

I haven't reached the end
I have made a start.

the butterfly
flitting vivid in the garden
kissing the prettiest flowers
with abandon

and the watchful eyes
waiting on high
to gobble it up at random

the slinky tail
prowling the grass
dancing with light
between shadows it cast

steps with intention
alive in the night
not a single tomorrow in sight

always down
as if he fell from the sky
the tragic clown with the funniest life
the perfect comedy in time

he always frowns, I tell no lie
sticks silver needles in his eye

looking on the bright side
every cloud's a lining

all he ever wanted
was the planets to align
across the vast expanse of time
he spent wishing for a diamond

eyes on the sky when
groundwork's how to find them

could have been mining
instead he was whining
sour grapes are to his taste
he's always fine dining

and when it's finally his time
I believe his final sigh
will be released
with sweet relief
at not needing to try

hope ferments

a sweet berry
intoxicating

as the patient table
tending to the wine

bottled blessing
blood of a saint

gently rippling
in silence

and indifference
a crutch to hold your will

the black dog sneers
growls in your ear

my battery would be quite low
incessantly in need of charge
we'd go wherever you go

my software would be so secure
a little out of date
the oldies are the goodiest
I think that's what they say

your face would be the only thing
to ever light my screen
the pictures we could take together
places we'd be seen

selfies in the bathroom
selfies on the beach
holding me at arms length
always within reach

you'd tell me your favourite things
and all your darkest secrets
I'd give you a couple rings
if you would only keep them

An angel
in a bridesmaid dress
gliding through clones
and butterscotch smoke
to throw my vacant soul a win
gifting me her lips in sin
spilling secrets to the night
our barstool island
aglow in the strobes
bodies swelling at the shore
sands turn glass
in waves of stereo
with velvet skin
embracing dark
tied her tongue
to mine
and laughed

she likes sausage for breakfast
but we don't cook the eggs
then it's on to the next one as she's checking her texts
she's vegetarian and always late
from a generation that just couldn't wait
to not be sober and now they're older;
a body count that could outrank soldiers
storming the frontlines, nobody told her
be still for a minute and let someone hold her
so it's on to the exodus, on to the next one
never sticking around like Teflon
if you've a big one, you might share a shower
but best believe she'll be dust in an hour

searching hard for the fear of god
in an overflowing ashtray
digging through the pile of grey
for memories of honest days
bittersweet reprieve
a pause
before the final applause
swaying in a symphony
of smoky dreams
someone else could believe

she's just the kind of girl
basement dwellers portray
scamming cash from weirdos
the dumb ones anyway

she wants to be a doctor
but life gets in the way
she still finds time to hit the gym
and keep the belly at bay

sometimes I have to pinch her
"just making sure you're real"
she smiles but I don't think she knows
the way she makes me feel

it's like rain at the window
while you're warm inside
it's finding the sharpest pencil
when you really need to write

it's the clinking of coffee cups
beneath the morning sun
and Euclid's consternation
as two remain one

she's just my kind of girl
that's all I have to say
the kind of girl to make you wish
you could sleep all day

am fae a toon that's done so bad
they gave it twa D's

whar the future greets
o' barren streets
on starless nights
an' the same ald wind

a suppose
ah wi kin dae is sing

an' sing wi dae
but no in tune
for ev'ry uphill
there's anither twa doon

an' some *****
howlin' awa' at the moon

it's quite the place meh toon
am gona quit the place quite soon
as I finish writin' this doon

an' tak' a last wee look
at the failin' toon
that helped write this book

tried to make the jump from complainer to poet
but all I can seem to do is complain
I'll give you one guess where this thing is going
it's quite the frustration, let me explain

Upon drinking the whiskey and smoking the ****
all I got was drunk and addicted
I've spanked the frisky and choked the slags
all it left me was feeling conflicted

I've ripped through the prompts, copied the greats
I've read all the books and done all the time
I must have lost a ton of weight
from the sweat I've poured in a thousand lines

so now I just sit here, too thin and smelly
maybe I'll take up berating the telly

are the trees
are the ocean
is the dirt
under your nails
is the rain
bursting thunder
in the clouds
are the light
is the wind
that turns heads
are old tales
of changed time
is the villain
is the saviour
in all of us

cinnamon kisses
the curls in her hair
my wishes
in the way she stares
choking on bliss
like perfumed air
whatever this is
I haven't a care

post to the void
and a stranger or two
those passing by
           I hope you're good
I hope you avoid
what's bringing you down
I hope a smile
            can follow a frown
I hope you give
just as good as you get
            I hope you can live
without fear and regret
I hope this finds you
just as you need it
if not today, I'll wait
                  hope
and repeat it

The best advice I'd hope to give
Romanticise The Little Things
that can't be traded, they're a Gift
The best advice I'd hope to give
The Little Things, for which you live
will be there, when the future sings
The best advice I'd hope to give
Romanticise The Little Things

desire is an enigma
rearing heads
razing beds
and god, the stigma
enough to make pretend
that
you never felt the fire
never used it to inspire
never wanted to get higher
like a vocal by Meg Myers

a falsetto
in stilettos
piercing hearts
robbing temples
unheard prayers
or the little death
that holds you
in your final breath

quietly lurking
invisible love
all thumbs and fingers
a hand from above

in a darkened, smoky room
getting lost amongst the swell
third eye spies my walking doom
an angel, staring straight from hell
black eyeliner, matching attire
Designer, destined
to set souls on fire
destination heaven
no designated driver
begging for attention
I had to feed the pyre

she enjoys the tension
in it for the chase
I'm here on propension
could be any race
like a Disney princess
twice the grit and charm
every piece a twin set
she takes me by the arm
tells me I should drink this
hands me something fizzy
I downed it in an instant
started to get dizzy

and I can't remember
what she said her name was
something like Amber..
Erica.. Blair .. uhh. .
as her face was melting
she told me to sit down
but the stool kept bending
and I'm on the wood now
she's bent over double
tried to pick me up
but I'm seeing double
I might be in trouble

battle with the stairwell
I had to hold her hand
asked her what she did, she said
you wouldn't understand
I asked again, that was when
she let go of my hand
small miracle I didn't fall
'cause I could barely stand
somehow made it to the back seat
asked her where we're going
she just closed the door and said
you're better off not knowing

Forever, you said
Under a shooting star
Come what may
Know this is ours
Your claim, well laid
Once upon a time
Under a shooting star

i.

from across the street
a single shot
silence
then another

ii.

"it's that same ****** close
where that poor boy got stabbed!"

the same boy
who fancied himself a man
running with thugs
a pile of drugs in the van

iii.

"it's only blood -
you clean it then!"

and so.
everything
is washed away

eventually

you are currently position number 1 in the queue





you are currently position number 1 in the queue





you are currently position number 1 in the queue





you are currently position number 1 in the queue





you are currently position number 1 in the queue





you are currently position number 1 in the queue





you are currently position number 1 in the queue





you are currently position number 1 in the queue





you are currently position number 1 in the queue





you are currently position number 1 in the queue





you are currently position number 1 in the queue





you are currently position number 1 in the queue





you are currently position number 1 in the queue

less travelled
well worn

all roads lead home

falling in love is easy
sticking the landing?
that's the hard part