he leaves his vapour trail
like an aircraft
across the sky
musky eau de cologne
the one from the bathroom cabinet
dad never used to wear
a memory or somewhere close
mixed with tobacco smoke
ingrained in clothing
from the old days
before the demon
was banished to car parks
and outside office buildings
in the rain
then he is gone
an unresolved mystery
in an otherwise ordinary
afternoon

we make camp at the coffee shop
turning a table and four chairs
into temporary home
decorated with a decor
of scarves, coats and bags
an invisible wall
focusing in on our refuge
the intimacy of the cups, saucers, plates
and conversation

in the corner
a man on his own
invades the whole room
conversing into his mobile
which I am not convinced
is in a call
nudging everyone into looking
beyond the realm
of their comfort zone

out on the mudflats
washed up by an angry sea
a shell remains
parched by the sun
a little bright paint
to remind whoever bothers to look
of the colour they once had
hauntingly beautiful shapes at dusk
ghosts with shrouded faces

Silt
there to block the estuary
a danger to shipping
of no use to anyone
but foolish romantics who see
the glory days gone by
a little sense of history, reverence
to the way things used to be


when they're gone
another age will discard the waste
of lonely  forgotten souls on the shoreline

when night comes
I lie in it's cold grasp
swathed with darkness and fear

voices echo inside my head
telling me of my isolation
a wall I have built
with no strength to destroy

I see faces, blank masks
staring at my supine body
as though I were a corpse

there is no emotion in their eyes
nor recognition of my face
they pass as ghosts
as they pass me every day

you are like cake
little substance
rising to a gentle warmth
a mouth full of air

your flavour is sweet
satisfying
at the time of eating
but an aftertaste
of guilt
a feeling of being
a little bit *****

you are always there
to temp a stray
from the right path
displaying your wares
like a shop window

what harm can a little pleasure do
no one will know
and you only live once

we are all broken
it just depends how much

sometimes you can pick up the pieces
and glue them together with hope

almost looking the same as before

only the ones who really know
can maybe spot a look in the eyes
that wasn't always quite there

we are all broken
it just depends how much

you can pick up all the pieces
and glue them back together with hope

but sometimes there's not enough
the crack will always show

people will see the badly mended shell
and not want to look inside

where there still haunts a ghost
of what was once a life

I had some good words back then
full of angst
testosterone powered passion
directionless lyricism

I was in a wilderness
where only brambles and weeds grew
flowers afraid to show their colour
for fear of being trampled

but now I approach my Eden
through the open gate
sunshine beckons me
illuminating light and shade
words begin to fail me
beauty has muted my pen
anger needs to sit and rest