If you want to be free,
you’ve got to own yourself –
Take control of what you do,
Be responsible for you,
So then nobody else
can play you for a fool;
Gotta make the whole world see
that you will always be
yourself – and then to your own self be true.

Standing on the edge
is such a privileged position
to be in.

There’s no knowing what comes next,
So just take a deep breath and
keep breathing
keep believing
and keep receiving
all the blessings that this universe possesses.

And when you’re ready, may I suggest
you do just
what everyone says
you’re not supposed to do…
And look down;

Look down and all around you
at the wonder that surrounds you
and truly see the profound beauty of your life –
the opportunities it’s waiting to supply.

Then you will realize the emptiness you see,
Is like a midnight sky spread out beneath your feet
lying pure and still
and surely filled
with billions of bright possibilities.

So the only thing left
for you to do,
Is just to take a breath
then take that step
into whatever future is waiting there for you.

My mind is like a griddle
on which inspiration sizzles;
I let it gently fry and
turn it over
so neither side
will get burnt.

I’ve gotta cook it slow and steady –
and better wait until it’s ready
cause there’s a lesson I’ve learnt
from times before;
from when it looked all cooked and tasty
but its insides were still raw
so the inspiration was wasted
leaving my imagination insatiated,
somewhat unsatisfied and sore.

So this time I let it fry,
on the griddle of my mind
Until it’s done right to the middle
So I know that when I whittle down
into its many drooling layers
the plentiful things waiting there
will be the rich juices of words, rhythm and rhyme.

Dreams drift like clouds
around our minds,
and wishes fly
like paper planes
across a summer sky,
leaving vapor trails
of hope
lying behind them –
their frail reminders
of that which we once wished
would come true;
but now only exists
in shades of blue.

Sometimes it’s wise
to take time out from
our busy lives
and see the world
through a child’s eyes.

So let go, and whirl
yourself around –
til you’re so dizzy
you tumble down
into a heap upon the ground;
And if you don’t feel humble,
when you’re down there, then
you’d better get back on your feet
and do it all again

Once upon a time,
I lined my waist with numbers;
I would waste my time
calculating endless sums
for my basic needs.
There would be fines for
overstepping boundaries –
a scaling back of
my supposed sense of greed.

Once upon a time,
I timed my pain with numbers;
Making sure I met
my set target every day;
for a balance had
to be closely kept
between input and output –
red flags would be raised
If I went into the black.

Once upon a time,
I was defined by numbers;
My life resigned to
mathematical strategies.
Now I understand
though I am not a number,
and I do not add up; yet
I count just because
I am me

Scuttling their way
sideways through space –
Like they always know
where they’re going.

So if we do likewise
(but move sideways through time)
Do you think we might find
where time’s going?

Burrowing down deep,
that’s where he squeezed his feelings -
crushed them in his rib cage,
pulverized them into fears
that feasted on his festering flesh
til there was nothing of him left
but a squealing mush of grotesqueness
growing ravenous with rage

How can you expect your reflection
not to detect your imperfections?
It’s a bit much to have such
unrealistic ideals, so I feel
if you find scrutinizing your face
takes you to a place
where you feel worse –
then just turn around
and make yourself the background,
so you’ll see
all the beauty
of the rest of the universe.

Silence has a sound –
And if you just listen closely
you can hear it floating ’round you.

It’s up to you what you hear
but let me make one thing clear;
There’s no such thing as nothing –

Even emptiness is able
to bring something to the table for

before everything else came around,
The universe produced one hell of a sound –

in fact, you can still hear it in space
humming and drumming all over the place,

It’s a nuisance that never dies down;
It just keeps on going
without us knowing

Cause the Big Bang still hangs around;
banging on and on
with the same old song
all eternity long
in the background…

The tide of time has lined your skin
with high laughter marks
indenting the parts
that were once washed smooth
by the Spring tide of youth
yet are now left unhindered
by the low tide of Winter;
So they lie 'round your eyes
sunbathing in the light
that years of experience bring.

Breathe in the trees –
Breathe in the breath they leave behind
in their whispering leaves,
like a reminder just why we
need them so;
for we should know
it is from them that we receive
the oxygen we need to breathe.

So we should preserve them,
because they deserve to be
alive, as they provide
the air that all life shares
and all life needs to breathe.

I think, therefore I ummm
and what I ummm is as below:

That nothing good can ever come to anyone
who thinks their ego knows best –
and to those that do,
may I suggest
that they review the way they ummm,
As the rest of us can attest
that those who think their ego knows best
only show the rest of us
that they’re thinking out their ***.

Why do we feel the need
to treat the people we meet
as if their sole role
is to be our personal
soundboards, and nothing more?
As though they are just a surface
on which we may explore
those thoughts that gnaw away inside us
becoming oblivious
to other people’s torment,
Until we all but ignore them –
even when they’re standing there before us
pretending all is normal
when all they want is to find
someone who has the self-awareness
just to be be there
and take the time
to care…

Folds of mouldering
grey clouds enshroud a pale sky
like cold curdled whey.

Heaven holds its breath
then spits petulantly down
upon frowning Earth.

Swollen, sagging sky
that's filled with fat, congealed clouds
ready for the rain.

A sunny summer’s day again;
When endless serenity fills the sky,
stills the Earth and
instills my mind with
a kind of listless energy
that exists somewhere
between bliss and lethargy.

I feel as though I can do anything;
Yet I know there are still so many things
I must get through
that I’ve no time to lose
and should therefore choose
which one I should do.

So I tried to decide –
but I got so confused that I had to deduce
there was simply no use
in letting myself get stressed out;

That the best thing to do
was to let the mess rest –
ignore all the chores and just
cure my sore and aching head
by taking a pew at my desk
(and taking my cue from this mess)
to write quite a tight poem instead
about how I’m lightly but still delightfully distressed
by this mess in my head.

Delightfully disproportionate features
form the basis of your face;
For your ears are neither here nor there –
they’re lost in the forest of your lustrous hair;
Whilst your eyes are disguised
by brows of deep brown,
that creep together when you frown
across the bridge that exists on the ridge of your nose,
where they greet each other with a rigid kiss
that just grows and grows and grows…

And on your cheeks your crow’s
feet lie listlessly, yet move their toes insistently
to show the world explicitly
that of course they don’t agree with
all that applesauce you speak of
with that mumbling mouth of yours, that’s
flanked by fading lips which still gaily get to grips
with a jumble of uncouth words
all hung on a whipcord tongue that can suddenly become
as soft and smooth as spun silk.

Cause you’re the only one of your ilk;
A defective manifestation
of a masterpiece of creation;
A random representation
and a precise personification.
You’re a filter-free reflection
of every furtive fault in me, drawn
with delectable imperfection –
and that’s just how you should be.

If you play with fire,
You’re gonna get burnt –
That was the lesson I learnt
when I was very young…

So I must be very dumb
to let you start
playing with my heart –
When that tongue of yours
spits out sparks
with every breath you take.

And every word you make
Catches on your lips and rips
against them like matches,
Blowing the glowing embers
of your lies tenderly
into my eyes where they catch against
my blind desire.

If you play with fire,
You’re gonna get burnt –
That was the lesson I ignored
when I was very young…

So I guess it doesn’t hurt
when I get burnt.

Or maybe I just prefer
being dumb.

Imagine sighing
into a silent night –
and all the stars
suddenly take flight
upon your breath
to rest
upon the empty midnight sky.

Imagine how it would feel
to know
you hold the universe
in your breast
every time
you hold you breath.

Would it be too much
for you to bear?
Or would you dare
to open wide
your lips and eyes
and laugh
as you give birth
to your universe
with a simple, sensual sigh…?

While our eyes form the windows to our souls
In our hands we possess less nebulous portals;
For they hold a way to let the universe in
as we find and feel, define and deal
with the weight of all worldly things.
So if something is more than conceptual,
We choose to use our hands to express our souls;
A high-five, a handshake, a round of applause,
A raised fist, a punch (or a good ol’ ‘up yours’);
How we give and take, develop and break the bonds
that bind us, are all defined by the gestures we make.
And yet –
Though these gestures seem sure and strong,
This purest way in which to communicate
can be the surest way to make a mistake.

Daydreaming;
Streaming then sieving
through words to find
their precious meaning
whilst leaving behind
the ***** sediment of
unneeded sentiments
which do not heed
the verse.

We cannot cure
each others pain;
But with purest love
we can ensure
they have enough
help and support
to thwart the bane which tortures them,
And heal themselves
again.

I was prepared to share
my dreams with you -
but that alone
wouldn't do,
You had to own me through and through;
You had to have it all...

So instead you crept
into my head;
Day-by-day stole
my thoughts away,
Til there was nothing left of me
but a hollow, sorrowful shell.

Let your fingertips trip
lickety-split quick
across my skin;
Let your lips slip twixt my hips
to skim, then grip
in a bliss of slow-burning kisses
the red-budding rose hip
that grows in deliciousness
with each single, tingling tease
from your tongue;
Let your lips sip its sweetness
as their soft touch releases these
first fleeting treats of my love,
That leave merely a trace and
an enticing taste of
the salacious feast that’s to come.

Letters placed upon a page
like kisses across your skin;
A succession of little notes quickly spoken
just to set your flesh a-flush and quivering.
The music comes as I move my tongue,
As it licks and rolls and strokes and strums
over every word
I’ve lovingly laid down,
So when each sensuous sound
is lifted from the page, and played,
A symphony of syllables make the words whirl around
you, and the melody of my love song
can be heard.

Venus in chains -
Stolen away from the sun, now she's numb
and lost in space;
Kept as Mars' pet,
In his shadow
and yet
she'll soon escape;
To return to her place
beside Earth,
who truly appreciates
her worth,
And knows
never to stand in her way.

I let your bones lie
beside me…

And while your skin
spins its yarns, I
skim the **** of your charm,
from the broiling broth
of our bare bodies.

So come on –
And spin that wheel
with your winning spiel, as you
purr those perfect words
of perfidy.

So come on –
Embroider my eyes
with your lacework of lies, and
bury in me
those dewy seeds
of duplicity.

So come on –
The pair of us can be as wise
as three of the naivest monkeys.

So let’s lie together with our conceit
spread out around us
on pristine sheets,
And make love, as if love alone can be
the canvas of our deceit.

Let me sink into your skin –
I want to feel you deep within
my soul,
so make me lose control –
’cause you know that I won’t swim,
so let your lust overflow as
I sink into our sin.

Pay the ferryman his dues, before you
take a punt
on the river of death;
'Cause if you don't
he might take offense
and that'll leave you in a right old mess,
For the ferryman
is not a merry man but
a mean and spiteful...

Each morning I awake from my slumber
with a feeling -
A hunger
that's gnawing away at the core of me,
Screaming and pleading
to be fed.

But it's not in my guts;
It's just in my head,
A ravenous need
to chew over my dreams
and eat up
the meaty food for thought
that the night's dream catchers have caught.

Heaven’s removal men;
Packing up the sunshine
into dark, dreary clouds.
Grumbling and mumbling
as they move the air about.
Dust sheets spread out far and wide
As their heavy feet trample
on a ***** sky.
Sunshine’s moving on –
It’s home got repossessed
by a storm.

So you’re looking to find a way in;
But a labyrinth lies beneath my skin.

Plus the whole of my heart is a maze;
A mish-mash of mishaps and misleading ways.

And my brain is one big ***** trap;
Full of illusions and calamitous cracks.

‘Cause you see even I’m lost in me;
So please – give up, get out and be free,
Whilst you’ve got this opportunity.

You gave me my bones.
Sealed me inside my skeleton skin,
Encased my heart in cartilage,
So no one could get in.

But now you can’t get in.
So you scratch and claw and needle and gnaw,
Wheedle and worry til your teeth are red raw,
You do your worst, as you did before –
Only this time, you won’t win.

We established our empire
in a land of subsiding lies;
Buried its foundations
in a slurry of false memories.

Our temples were carved
from crumbling bricks,
And our trains ran on tracks
made of broken sticks.

Our government was run
through a democracy –
That was elected by you
and decided for me.

So we should have seen
the end coming;
We should have know
our empire was falling, but…

Instead we pretended
our empire was fine,
And policed our streets
with blind watchmen.

I know who I am now.
I discovered my identity,
Grew strong enough to find my feet –
Now I’m no longer lost beneath
someone else’s shadow.

Time races onward unseeing, unseen,
Leaving traces of the places its presence has been,
Capturing moments that once roamed free,
Hoarding them in cages called memories.

So we race behind it, to find where it leads,
Run through the current its movement leaves,
Pushing our lives forward, one breath at a time,
We wonder what waits at the finishing line.

It’s the snarl inside me –
The vicious gnashing and clashing of
smashed teeth,
Of swollen tongue and bleeding gums.

It’s the bite-mark-shaped-heart –
The gnawed thighs and gouged and greedy eyes,
The crushed howls and unheeded cries of
my bullet-spotted, leopard-dotted lungs.

I’m a savage, splattered mess;
Dripping indecency from the heart of me,
Letting letters pore recklessly from
every sore and red-raw pore.

I’m the ravenous maw of madness;
Drooling long strings of sentences
that pool relentlessly
down the endless feed of the cyberverse,
Then disappear into obscurity
to be lost forevermore.

I’m the untamed beast
that’s been released
from the leash of other people’s shame –
Now I’ll feast upon my foolishness
‘Til I get caught again.

I need to bleed words,
I must ensure
they pour out of me
in a flood
of ****** poetry.

I must find a way to feel
these scars
I keep concealed
inside my mind,
Before they find a way to burst
out from behind
my shield and define
in long red lines
This secret pain I must
keep locked away
inside.

Stirring the depths,
Trying to find
a sign of light
a line of sight
a guiding light
to raise me from this mess,
But sometimes it simply feels like
I’m just stirring the deaths,
The empty breaths
and losing sight
of life.

Life through a lens.
Watching other people’s revelry
through the filter of a dead TV.
Perfect picture
perfect pitch
and an incredible intensity –
But it’s not life.
This vicarious festivity
neutered and numbed
by a precision of pixels,
This slum depiction of synthetics ideals
Is not life…

It begins with a beat;
A steady reverberation in an
elemental part of me.

Then the bass line comes;
A red-raw rush of energy
viciously visceral in my veins,
Elevating my feeble frame
From it’s meek and sorry state
To become something
Ferociously sublime.

And now I’m mainlining music,
Letting it
Soak into my skin
Infect my ears
Infuse my feat and
Bombard my quivering brain
With its beat
‘Til I explode into a mass
of minuscule notes;
Quick little quavers
like quarks
that waver, then stalk
through my mind,
Looking to find
fresh melodies, to which
my soul can bind
and bleed.

This is how it feels
within me,
When my body responds
to a purified beat;
This is true ecstasy –
When I fly on an
emotional high.

Your tender words of love
have lost their lustre now;
There’s a patina on your poetry,
A corrosion in our chemistry and
all those brilliant ballads you wrote for me
are slowly turning to rust…

Now I see those little motes of misery –
your thoughtless touch disturbed in me –
All fall away quite peacefully
into a sea of fool’s gold dust.

Every day can be
like a tsunami of troubles
we struggle
to overcome;
So let’s be brave
and ride the wave
’til the day
and our troubles
are done.

A collection of curves…
An assortment of angles…
An alliteration of lines…

How do we each perceive
the universe?

How do our minds define
what we believe we see?

Do our conflicting views
intolerably entangle themselves?

Or could it be
our conceptions converge
more harmoniously?

Let’s lick the light from the sky,
Taste time together
You and I;
Gargle on green rolling free-flowing fields,
Then lap up a leaf left by Yggdrasil.

Let’s milk midnight from our eyes,
Weave the world a red
lullaby;
Turn somersaults in Summer’s vault of sunburnt malt
and mumbled salt that tumbled through
thunder’s thoughts of ***, raw whiskey and rye.

Let’s make the moon craters cry,
Give up our graces
You and I;
Sweep the stars into bell-bottom jars
as we tweak the meek **** of Mars and creep
through the spaces of cotton lace bars
faster than a racing eight-faced die.

Let’s lick the light from the sky,
Taste time together
You and I;
Share our souls with this suspicious old world
So it knows the reason why
we are
You and I.

Are we all just broken mirrors?
Merely a collection of reflections,
A thousand shards like shields
under which we hide, and therefore deny,
These scars we cannot heal?

What do these surfaces show us?
A covering of caricatures as
a substitute for skin?
A means to deflect, so none may detect
The person lost within?

How do we perceive each other;
As people? Or as purely pixels now –
A series of small screens,
An infinity of identities
in which our souls cannot be seen?

Are we all just broken mirrors?
Too distorted to support the burden
of the shared shame we feel?
What if we take the time to realign
Our falsified ideals?

I am an island.
I am a little spit of land,
Swept away by unsettled waters
and shifting sands;
Forced alone to
make my home
In an insubstantial sea.

Yet on my island
I am free; free to preserve
my eccentricities
in a nature reserve
made from nurturing love of
what I choose to be.

I am an island.
Borne away on wistful waves, I
travel onward,
Seeking a place where
there are others who are free;
And when I find them,
There I’ll stay, and
thereafter spend my days
Not as an island…
But as me.

**** happens; it’s true.
And no matter what you do,
****’ll happen to you.

It’s nothing personal; it’s just life.
And life don’t differentiate
between wrong and right.

So the best thing to do is have fun,
And laugh as **** happens,
‘Cause when all’s said and done –

This **** that happens ain’t a curse,
So when it sees you feeling good,
Then perhaps what’ll happen,
Is this **** that’s happening
will feel worse.

Love is someone who has your back
by never trying to hold you back,
Love is someone who gives a ****
by never trying to give you ****,
Love is someone who helps you out
by taking time to hear you out,
And
love is someone who takes control
yet never tries to take your soul.

The day slowly dies;
Scars bleed across the sky as
sunset stains the sea