Collaboration with Morrissey Smith**

Come forward young poet
and teIl me your tales
of youthful existence,
let your words flow forth
with freedom your call
let eyes see new meaning
in the world that you know

My music's my heartbeat
my camera my friend
I've no room for ego
swag isn't my trend.
I sit in my bedroom
as vinyl spins round
I walk through this life
with both feet on the ground.

So tell me dear poet
what moves you to write
as you sit in your chamber
late into the night?

My hero writes lyrics
like none have before,
one man, now my namesake
did open the door.
He writes of depression
and bitterness strong
I subscribe to his outlook
I'm sure we'd get along.
Some say he's acerbic
judgemental, a *****
But I really love him and think he's the ****.

Then take inspiration,
as it comes to you
As last night I dreamt somebody loved me too.

Youths, the sight of thy pants menacingly looming over the waistband of your ill fitting trousers doth not fill my heart with joy this fine afternoon.

Nor doth the stench of your rancid marijuana which oozes from your pores and combines with your ever present lynx masked body odour.

I see you stroll with all the grace of a strategically shaved ape,
as you migrate with your "Fam" to linger like wastrels outside the Spar in the hope of cheap cider, stolen smokes and easy girls...
And I wonder at the devoid nature of our future while it rests on your rounded, work shy, knuckle dragging shoulders.
I fear the brush thats tars us all.

Today's the day,
The big one
The prize fight.
4 weeks of intensive training,
religiously practising our art
sleepless nights and drawing boards
anxiety yours, headscratching, mine
have brought us to this fated hour.
This sainted day shall bring a fight
unto vanilla death
but we Jakes men are strong of heart
and you wear your cape of courage well
as we set out with trusted hound
to defend our fortress
and to mock with disdain
the keeps of our rivals.

Take up your arms!
Hold steady...
On my word...
CHARGE!!

Let the sand castle competition begin.

Messages from strangers
Speak of waging war.
Go play jump roap,
Marbles, hopscotch.
All are fine playground games
British bulldog or dodgeball
tag or kiss-chase....
What's the time Mr Wolf?

It took
2 years
1 shrink,
2 consultants,
and several "experts"
to draw the conclusion
that my son is "special"
You'd think with all that book learning
They'd tell me something I don't already know.
How many exams to define love?
How many degrees to diagnose wonder?
How many recommendations of care
before they realise
that I am he
and he is me
and that is all the care we need.

I hate jigsaws,
****** happy pictures
cut into shapes
so we can
put them back together
and smile at how far we've come,
only to rip them apart
and scatter their pieces
haphazardly
without a shred of care.
I hate jigsaws
they remind me of what we've become
they remind me that the word human has no place within the word humanity anymore.