Under a large, round, yellow
Full November moon
The chill of the cold, dark night
Slips in through my window
It fights against the heating
To send a shuddering shiver down my spine

Under the full November moon
People spill out of noisy pubs
Leaving heat, light, music
A false, inebriated happiness
To stagger, swirling home
To warm beds of love
Or cold, empty houses
And late night T.V.

Under the full November moon
Teenager's breath leaves clouds in the air
Hanging heavy and mingling with smoke
From spliffs secretly held in cupped hands
Hanging around shops, parks
Even the disappearing phone boxes
Feeling the arrogance of youth
Course through their veins

Under the full November moon
The middle aged sit
In armchairs with tea mugs
T.V. droning as they dream of their youth
When they were slim and ****
Or hungry and virile
Before it all slipped so quickly away

Under the full November moon
Swingers swap flesh and fluids
In hotels and motels
With no more passion or emotion
Than passing the salt

Under the full November moon
Prostitutes haul their tired, aching bodies
From car to car for the price of a hit
The dealers  swagger, stoked full of *******​
With the power and arrogance of mediaeval lords

Under the full November moon
People sweat in police cells
Under grey, itchy blankets
On blue rubber mattresses
In a white - tiled nightmare

Under the full November moon
I think of them all
As I sir writing ideas
In a cheap, lined pad
Then turn off the lights
As the full November moon
Bids goodnight
To us all

Don't talk to me about democracy
How we can control our lives
It's nothing but hypocrisy
There's no control in sight

No matter who we hate, or who we back​
We will never have any real say
A million people marched against invading Iraq
Yet for years they were bombed night and day

Remember the W.M.D. s
Their reason for more death ?
Who knows what it will be
What reason will be next ?

Now it's Syria, where the innocent die
Well, I for one, never voted for that
Who knows where, knows why
Their lies will next be presented as fact

What's scarier than strangers
And all the things that they don't know
Don't know, don't feel and if they did
They'd never let it show

They have no fears, definitely no phobias
No terrors in the night
No doubts, no worries, not even concerns
They always know that they are right

These strangers are the ones in an angry mob
In the lynch party too
They join the army, even the police
They are not like me and you

They vote Conservative, own pit- bulls
Get involved in, even start pub fights
I've never really known one of them
But I can spot one on sight

These strangers include the rapists
Child molesters​ too
I even believe in traffic, they are the ones in front of you

They​ used to buy Phil Collins
Now they buy U2
They put Englebert Humperdinck at No. 1
When ' Strawberry Fields ' got stuck at No.2

These strangers are so scary
I don't know what to do
Now I never dare to go anywhere
In case I become a stranger too

Reading a slim book of poetry
Of life and it's mutability
Poems from inside of
A safe, cosy middle class cocoon
The words have no sharp edges
To burst the balloon
Poems about flowers
To while away the hours
Between the visit of the vicar
And the next *** of tea
Not poetry for you and me
Or anything like reality
Poetry as a gentle hobby
Like baking
Or flower arranging
Not poetry from the gut
That comes​ raging
Like fists planted upon the page
Poems of love or loss or rage
But tenderly placing
Each word on the page
Like a delicate flower to be arranged
I don't hate the woman
Who wrote this stuff
For her this obviously is enough
I envy her easy life
It's lack of struggle
It's lack of strife
Perhaps one day it will be me
Writing of such superficialities
When I'm fat, well fatter
Rich and content
And all of my life- force has been spent
I will sit in my garden and smell the flowers
Then while away my hours
On my hobby, writing poetry
Between the visit of the vicar
And my next *** of tea

******  you're the devil, I think it needs to be said
Most people can't escape from you until they are dead
You rot people from the inside, you rot their brains and teeth
And once someone has tasted you, without you there's no relief
You rob people of their morals, scruples, conscience too
****** you are the devil and ****** I hate you
You make people *****, you make their skin turn grey
******, I almost can't believe I managed to get away
No, it wasn't easy, it was ******* hard
You wrecked my looks, damaged my brain, left me covered in scars
******, you killed so many of my friends, you killed my girlfriend too
******, you took 15 years of my life and ****** I hate you
But still you flit around my thoughts, you I sometimes crave
But I know I'll never go back to you, I only just escaped my grave
On the last time that we met, you nearly took me with you
That will never happen though, because ****** I hate you

I stand in my garden and look around
Who knows what happens in these small towns​
Behind the curtains in suburbia
Who knows what really happens there?

The mild-mannered man you meet on your stroll
Could have 5 Japanese, plastic *** dolls
Behind the curtains in suburbia
Who knows what could happen here?

The fat, jolly woman to whom you say ' hello '
Her husband could be under the patio
Middle class suburbia
Anything can happen here

My next door neighbour's curtains twitch
In her back room she is a witch
Pentagrams​ in blood on the laminate floor
As she chats to the woman next door
She leaves a note out for the milk-man
Then she sells her soul to Satan

Behind the curtains in suburbia
Who knows what happens here?

It's not like the rough council estates​
Where people are driven by need and hate
The sheer boredom of suburbia
Breeds evil things that happen here

The sun finally came out today
After 12 hours of murk
And now it's faded away
Drifted into dark

I hate the way the winter arrives
When it goes dark at  4 'O' Clock
The darkness comes into our lives
And depression starts to knock

Upon our door, we let it enter
And it turns out our lights
At 4'O' Clock it has sent a
Dart into our lives

Every year this darkness hits
At this time of year it starts
I've got to learn not to give a ****
Not to let the dark into my heart

Just a few hours ago, I felt so good to see sun instead of rain
Now the wet, grey skies bring melancholia back again
This winter has felt eternal, blizzards from Siberia
Is it any wonder that the sun brings on hysteria ?
We are not a nocturnal species, we need to see sunlight
We need at least occasionally it's glow to feel alright
If there was a sunshine drug, I'm sure that I'd be hooked
I am ginger I do not tan. It's not about how I look
It just feels so good to feel that warm, orange glow
With being British it's not something that I have had much time to know
I'm cold turkeying for sunshine, I'm rattling like ****
I wish my celestial dealer would sort it out, so I can get a hit

Sometimes life is good
Sometimes it really is ****
We just deal with it

I hate when it goes dark at half past four,
Even earlier if the weather's poor.
Whether it's S.A.D. or just natural depression
At how the seasons change in such quick succession.
As you get older and the years fly past
And time just doesn't seem to last
As soon as the year has begun
It seems we're waving goodbye to the sun
And another long, cold winter starts
To chill our bones and freeze our hearts
And the winters always seem to last
A lot longer than the summers fly past
I blame it all on growing old
This hatred of the dark and cold
As a kid, I loved the long, dark nights
Halloween, Bonfire night, then snowball fights
Now, none of them fit in with my desires
I prefer to sit and read by the warmth of the fire
Book in one hand, in the other a drink
I'll relax and hibernate until Spring

I love the summer
But I have to say
I hate barbecue season
The loud conversations
The drunken laughter
And the smell of cooking,
Sausages and burgers
Floating through the window
The loud and cheesy
Dance/pop music
Assaulting my senses
As I sit here alone
With a single bottle
Of fortified wine
As the loud, drunken
Fools with their
Loud, manly laughter
Have countless crates and bottles
Ready to be consumed
Yes, I sit here alone
Always the outsider
Scribbling my lines
To console myself
With the idea of  " art "
As if it is important
Not to be
Part of the crowd,
When the truth is
I was never invited
Anyway

It's Five pm on a Saturday​  afternoon
Walking down town, I can smell 'em
The takeaways​ will be opening soon
And this street smells like heaven

People at home are in the shower
Getting ready for their night on the town
They'll be having their first drink in about an hour
They'll be listening to their sounds

Me, I'm at home, alone and lonely
With a pizza and a bottle of wine
But I've got the Rolling Stones, 'Exile On Main Street '
So **** 'em, I'm feeling fine

Keef's guitar and **** Jagger's sneer
Charlie Watts perfect drums
They always sound great, whatever the year
I can take the rest as it comes

It's a curse that affects those of my generation
The constant search for new sensations
New drinks, powders, potions and pills
Feeling better and better until we fell ill

It's that old, old story of drugs and addiction
But I thought it was probably 50 % fiction
Peddled by the authorities to scare people straight
I thought I was clever enough to avoid my fate

But I'm not much smarter than any other smackhead
Just enough to avoid jail and not to be dead
The consequences are there for the rest of my days
I have to stay in control of my actions, my ways

It's there all the time and it won't disappear
But I got off lightly, at least I'm still here
I can't say that much for too many of my friends
I've still got a chance to say how my life ends

So, come and let me tell you
All about my day
It's been pretty boring, it's true
But sometimes that's just the way

I woke up next to my wife
And my dog and cat
In the same bed, but that's my life
That's just where it's at

Listen to music, smoke cigarettes
Go to the shop to get a drink
Read books I have not devoured yet
About poetry I will think

Then I sit here and think of you
On the 'Hello Poetry ' website
Send these few lines out of my view
Then I will bid you all Goodnight

Time crawls so slowly tonight
A Friday evening in the setting sun
Even at this time of my life
Surely I should be somewhere having fun
Not necessarily a drunken, drugged binge
Just socialising with my peers
My timidity makes me cringe
I sit here alone, except for my fears
45 years old and I've got nothing left
Just a long, slow, sad decline
Battling boredom whilst awaiting death
My life a burnt out relic of what once was  mine
I watch the clock's hands slowly turn
Waiting until it's time to sleep
A life-long loser, what have I learned ?
Nothing, and makes me want to weep

Sometimes I think it's  best to  be alone
Other people just bring you down
When their intelligence doesn't match my own
But what's the point in being the leader of a one man town ?

Anger and frustration, if it was just my nation
At least things would be done right
But even in my mathematical equation
I would be alone tonight

And if I am so clever, how come I am alone ?
The drink and drugs are an illusion
My thoughts turn themselves into stone
And become an endless confusion

What can I say? What can I do ?
Don't ask me I just don't know I'm all alone just an old fool
Who has nowhere to go

All I have is my poetry
To keep me​ warm tonight
At least it's something that I believe
And in which I know I am right

Let's celebrate the 25th
Try to forget all of the filth
That surrounds this time of year
And all of the things that we hold dear

All of the ads we see on T.V.
And all the perfect families
They always have enough money
And have no difficulties

They have no depression or anxiety
No worries at all, life is so easy
All of those perfect white-tooth dreams
Where life is not how it seems

But we have to face reality
Where life isn't so easy
Poverty and mental distress
Are as familiar to us as our address

So what can we do but try to see
How happy  we are supposed to be
Life is hard,. no one said it would be easy
But why is it quite so hard, is the question that bothers me

Standing in the hospital
Hungover, feeling jittery
Ward  93
Drug and Alcohol Dependency Unit
I finger the squeezy lemon bottle
Hidden inside my boxer shorts
Full of second-hand ****

Ward 93 operates as a strict regime
3 strikes and you're out
That means that every time
You give a positive sample
They give you a warning
More than 3 and your
Methadone is stopped
I'd had all 3

After a phone call to my
( only) clean friend
I met him in the pub
3 or 4 beers later
I hit him with it
He took it reasonably well
It not being every day
A friend asks you to ****
Into a bottle for him

So......
There I was, hungover nervous
With a squeezy lemon of
Someone elses​ **** in my shorts
Hidden just behind my *****
To keep it at body temperature
If you handed over the sample
Bottle and it was cold
The Nurse might become suspicious
Or think that you were dead

This required sleight of hand
And nerve
The Nurse would stand right behind you
In the cubicle to watch you
Anyway
It worked
This time
The next time I couldn't
Get in touch with my friend
So I had to resort to
Trying it with tea
Amazingly they said
That this sample contained
Opiates
And I was thrown off the programme

Either their equipment was faulty
The bottle was contaminated
Or something
But just in case
I started to
Drink a lot of tea
Well, you never know
And I guess
They've got to keep
Sales up
Somehow

I sit and watch the walls
Of loneliness slowly closing in
Drawing in like a cold
Windy, rain-filled night
I can't ever remember feeling
So utterly alone
So completely adrift
From everything
And everybody
I think of all
The opportunities untaken
The abilities wasted
People shrugged off, blanked
Nonchalant
With all the flaming arrogance
Of one who thinks that
He is born lucky
Special
To whom the rules do​ not apply
The kind who thinks he will
Win the lottery
Without even buying a ticket

But I wasn't born lucky
And I'm not special
Failure hits me just as hard
As anyone else
And it keeps on hitting
I'm like the boy who cried wolf
I pushed people away
Not thinking that one day
They would take me at my word

And now it's like I'm on a ship
Condemned to drift
Upon a sea of nothingness
Unable to dock at any port
Whilst food and fresh water
Steadily run out
Holes appear in the sails
Water slowly seeps into the hull

I have to choose, either
A sad slow lingering starvation
Or swiftly and sadly
Walk the plank

I sit and pray
Up in the crow's nest
I keep watch and hope
Someone please calls
The coastguard

Am I getting washed up on the rocks
Heading into stormy waters
The white-tipped waves are giving me a shock
I should slow down, I know I ought to

Sailing too fast into the wind
With adrenaline I'm wired
My heart is racing, my eyes are pinned
My brain is getting tired

It's getting too much every day
Sailing upon the high seas
It's costing more than I can afford to pay
It's all getting too much for me

Am I getting washed up on the rocks
Heading into stormy waters
The white-tipped waves are giving me a shock
I should slow down, I know I ought to

Well, it's my birthday on Monday
Then I will hit the big 45
And what, in my own way
Have I learned about this life

Stay away from drugs and their dealers
They will bring you nothing but strife
I know it's not much, but I feel that
It's an important lesson in life

As for women, I don't know
Just try your best to find
One that won't leave you feeling low
Try to get one who is kind

I know this isn't​ a lot to know
But it will have to do for now
Hopefully I've a lot more years to go
To work out the rest, somehow

Everyday I wake up, full of dread
Of the battlefield that's in my head
The drugs don't work, they just make it worse
Is such a truthful piece of verse
At least that's the way it's been for me
Dragged me further down than I've ever been
I was always against suicide
Until these Prozac got inside
This now broken thing that was my mind
I think it's time I put those pills behind
Me, now I know I have had enough
Life is getting far too rough
I've never been this scared before
I was in control, or so I thought
Now I know I know what's best
Now I know I need to take a rest

I've noticed as I grow older
And at 45 I am ******* old
I seem to be getting more resilient
Mentally, I bend
Where I used to crack
Things that 15 years ago
Would have destroyed me
Now I flick them off
Like an errant insect
That hassles me whilst I'm
Having a ****.
The more pain that you go through
You must gain a tolerance.
Now I laugh
When I used to cry
Now I just shrug
Where I used to ask why
It's just the way of the world
I tell myself.
Life is pain
Get over it or die
Suicide now seems
Like a bad joke
They have taken all that they can
What's left now is mine
Is happiness the right
Word for it ?
Or just nothing left to lose ?

Whatever,
I'm feeling better than
In a long time
If this is becoming
Middle aged
Then it's pretty
******* good

Today's my birthday and I think
That tonight I deserve a drink
Me, the Mrs,a couple of bottles of wine
I'm 45 and I am feeling fine

We've got a couple of friends  come to visit
The drinks go around, the stories go with it
A happy time is had by all
As the night outside it falls

It feels good to be 45
****, I'm glad just to be alive
Nightclubs are no longer my thing
Just friends sitting around, having a drink

But to be honest now, I wish they'd go
So me and my wife could be alone
My hospitality only goes so far
Now I'm ready to throw them into their car

It's the sweet sundown of a a summer's night
Children finish their games in the last of the light
I'm alone, I'm lonely nothing feels right

The air is full of birds on the wing
Or nesting in the treetops you can hear them sing
But I'm oblivious to it, I don't hear a thing

The sky is growing darker, the night starts to unwind
The stars are beautiful, see how they shimmer and shine
But I don't see them, I might as well be blind

Courting couples wander, walking hand in hand
Strolling through the park, kiss under the empty bandstand
I'm lonely and I feel like a poor excuse for a man

I need that special someone, who can make my sun shine
I need to find a woman who'll be happy to be mine
Until then there's only ugly winter thoughts in my mind

Drinking again
At 12 'O' Clock
The hangover too much to bear
And it's like a bear
Clawing at my skull
Crunching my nerve ends
So to the shop I go
Two hours later
Feeling better
Smoking a cigarette
That doesn't make me gag
Actually enjoying every drag
As the martini goes down
Of course
Sooner or later
It will all catch up with me
And the sickness will return
But until then
I am feeling fine
Feeling better
One drink
At a time