A smile worth more than gold
A story left untold
For behind that smile
Might be something cold

For inside that cold, darkness shows
The pain and sorrows forever grows

A fog unfolds
Covering everything bright
A darkened heart, that seeks to find light
A single rose, in the midst of thorns
As life sometimes leaves the soul broken and torn

For every smile
Comes a story
Whether myth or legend
New or old
Every smile
Leaves a story untold

I saw a little girl plant a tree
on a beach by a watchful lapping sea;
her mother dug the hole
and by lark I guess covered in the tree.

To their sturdy neighborhood, I then saw them go:
to family, friends, perhaps we may say too
one to a moon-dipped lover, lulling by the shore.

Skip and hop, spin and swirl, laugh aloud, hand-in-hand,
bare-foot princesses dancing through august light.
Whatever cares they share hidden by delight.


I will remain, I think, with the tree.
Soon and carefully I will take it
to a place of loving worms in dark, moist earth,
to dig it a home free of the watching, lapping sea.


© 2016

People are nature's biggest curiosity.
Naturally, I observe them every chance I get.
The last time I was here, it was no different.
My fascination rested with the girl to my left.
She was obsessed with the guitarist,
claiming that he was "amazing" and "the man of her dreams."
She fantasized about dating him.
She wondered what it would be like to know that she inspired the songs
or to meet him backstage for a familiar kiss,
rather than an awkward handshake.
I smirked at her musings wryly,
long since having given up any notions of romance,
let alone with a shining star.
How funny the tricks fate plays on us.
As I watch you sing on stage, the spotlight bright,
and listen to words meant only for me,
and await that backstage kiss,
I can't help but glance at the girl to my left.
She's not as starstruck as I remember;
She doesn't know everything about you.
She doesn't even know your name.
I wonder why.
You're the brightest star I know.
Everyone should love you and know your name.
A scoff brings me back to reality; I look to my right.
I know that sneer. I wore it once myself.
To this girl, I'm just another girl to her left,
but I can't help my spreading grin.
Perhaps I am the girl to the left,
but you love me, and so my world's all right.

bolt the doors, lock the windows,
doomsday is coming to town,
'cos London's got a muslim mayor.

O, woe is us, our children are not safe,
we can't walk the streets at night,
listen for the knock on your door
'cos London has a muslim mayor.

O, the monsters are being elected,
our nightmares have come true,
there'll be ****** on the streets,
'cos London's elected a muslim mayor.

He knew the importance of words
and treated life like a crossword;
taking hints and context to places
that he never knew were possible,
solving them faster than his mind could keep,
he was full of it,
and every letter got him closer
to his dreams of entitlement.

Oh you've solved it, all right,
but his genius was limited,
nothing but words on a page;
The puzzles? He'd just skimmed it,
and each box became his defeat
for his words would no longer speak.

He could only solve the same book;
shoulders up, blamed his luck
on his limited palette,
maybe he'd done better if he invested
in a thing like vocabulary.

A forgotten mission, a new edition,
blew around in his mind,
but somehow he never could manage
to find the time
to understand these riddles' complexity,
and so to this challenge, *he'd flee.

chocolate fireguard, teapot,
or fender, icecream sofa, dry sea
or wet towel, glass hammer,

waterproof teabag, newspaper
raincoat and umbrella, lead parachute, ashtray on a motorbike,

handbrake on a canoe,
vote in a dictatorship,
loudhailer to a deaf mute,
grief at a wedding,

****** in a monastery.
inflatable dartboard,
spoon in a knife-fight,
screen door on a submarine,

wooden soap, shortbread tires,  
knitted light bulb,
bread boat, plasticine wire cutters,
paper hole punch, water hat,

custard floorboards,
ceiling tiles made of gravy,
portrait of a bowl of soup,
a stone cigarette,

syrup knickers, hole in my bucket,
plastic oven, wax truss,
liquorice bridge,
false teeth made of soap,

lemonade roof,
jelly boots,
jam cardigan,

paper bicycle pump,
ice-cream saucepans,
soluble drain pipe,
packet of rubber nails,

see-through mirror,
revolving basement restaurant
roll-on hairspray, rubber pencil,

****** with a hole in it,
limp ****, pockets on a lettuce,
**** on a fish, lolly pop van in Hell,

one-legged man in an ****
kicking competition,

meaningless life,
unnecessary death,
forgotten words and deeds,
ignored needs,


this poem.

green, as I'm cabbage looking
red, as I'm devilish seeming
blue, as I'm sky tasting
black, as I'm painted sounding
grey, as I'm fogged if I'm knowing
white, as I'm angelic touching
brown, as I'm **** feeling

far down
into the pit of hell
as it is possible to go
and still see the stars shining.

far up
into the spit of sky
as it is possible to go
and still see the wood for the trees.

down the Dearne on a digestive,
up the Thames on a Bourbon,
down the Sheaf on a Garibaldi,
up the Don on a Flapjack.

down the Tyne on a Brandy Snap,
up the Wear on a Hobnob,
down the Severn on a Ginger Nut,
up the Lune on a Custard Creme.

down the Styx on a sunflower seed bun,
up the Lethe on a lemongrass stick,
down the Rhine on a Raisin Slice,
up the Seine on a Belgian Pancake.