a fish was attracted to land
went to the trouble to grow
lungs, crawl panting on a sandy
beach, to use newly developed feet
so we could follow our own journey
back to foamy shores
to look out at our old home
on holidays and weekends
wondering why we bothered
to leave in the first place

she bought me more pens
from zoos and amusement
parks than I’ll ever need
for miles of thoughts
I’ve no time to travel
envisaged a desert of
white paper waiting
for the sky to rain
words turned to pros
and verse, you are a
writer dad she said
in need of inspiration
and this is all I have
to give your fertile mind
but she is wrong so wrong
my inspiration is her
my reason to carry on
belief in what I do
all the ink in the world
could not express just
how much I love her

if you live in a desert
any mirage is beautiful
even knowing it as an illusion
making plans around
how it will change your life
make you happier
than you have ever been
when you arrive
it dissipates
so you can start looking
for the next one

she wants to find the
source of my unhappiness
as though it is a thing
we can search for like
a talisman and destroy

she wants to find the
source of my unhappiness
as though it’s a place
we can move from and
just not go there anymore

not even I understand
why it is I feel so sad
among my loved ones
my tribe, but every new
day there is always rain

she is nice because
of some new desire
making him drinks
a nice lunch...

he's made her tea
in bed every morning
for years, simply
out of love for her

Geppetto didn't make me
God did
no matter how broken I am
he's not fixing me
any time soon
and I never was a real boy

you had so much clay
to mould into
the perfect shape of existence
why did you punish so many
on their road to Damascus

if ever you wondered what purgatory
looked like, it's here
whatever these poor ******* did
they have paid
in spades
here on forgotten streets
among the flotsam and jetsam
drifting
from the higher echelons of society
this is Skid Row
the lowest you can go
doorway to hell
Skid Row is everywhere

I occupy this space
unconquered
unclaimed
just a matter of existence

this is where I shall begin
in this pool of life
displaced by so many others
until it is overflowing

I am beyond the gates of birth
released to a wild horizon
don't tame me
I'm exactly who I should be

the dark brooding cloud
that hangs some way off
is the distance between us
supercell of anxiety
will it rain or just
dissipate
is the thunder threatening
or just the rumblings
of a fresh summer storm
after a heatwave

we both look at the forecast
for tomorrow
and with heavy hearts
see what the long range
predictions are
there may be some
patches of sunshine
in moments when we forgive and forget
the odd warm day
here and there
but we both know
winter is coming
and snow is on the horizon

you can see the forward
in my eyes
skin lined with the people
to so far thank for the ride
if you delve into the chapters
there's a need to sit down
this is no fiction nobody's clown
the story will end
right in front of your eyes
where I am standing
without my disguise

I am sorry for the intermission
in your life that was me
do not adjust your set
normal service will be resumed
shortly

they reported my passing on Facebook
all most people could manage
was a sad emoji

so the day is going well
which is never a good sign
time ticking past somnambulantly
inducing a soporific state
I find hard to shake
with rocking carriages
as I traverse to my travail
through millennia of archaeology
passing long extinct dinosaurs
turning magically to crude oil
Roman armies with Gladius drawn
ready for action two thousand
years on, still trying to conquer
the unconquerable realm
then an eco-warrior
of shabby description
yells my carbon footprint
is an abominable *******
it’s an electric train I holler
how much greener can I be fella
the Romans are looking friendlier
by the minute they only wanted
my freedom not justification of existence
the soporific state abates
the modern world is against me
now I’m running late

your metre blackens the page
beautifully dancing fonts
caress the delicate surface
like skaters tracing their dance
across the ice in blades

an expression of genius perhaps

your gorgeous muse laughs
joyously titillating imagination
positively prostituting herself
to your phallus stylus *******
your fertile imagination
spawning verse birthing phrase

and I don’t understand
a single ******* thing you said

what is worse
a picture of a *****
or a picture of a gun
for some reason
we have it in our heads
a **** is wrong
but somewhere someone
is thinking how cool
it would be to shoot someone

he runs across the floor
eight legged little beastie
one of nature's nightmare tools
a necessary evil, clean-up module
I leave him alone, as much right as I
to this lonely landing in moonlight

Until the knife is removed
the wound will never heal

I wish I still smoked
**** yeah
It's the ritual
the need to make time
to die a little
opening a new pack
shiny cellophane
the lid flipped back
paper seal for freshness
pulled out to reveal
20 happy moments spent
inhaling, coughing, thinking
the soft packets
where you flicked the
cigarettes out like movie
stars and the Marlboro man
who are all dead now
roll ups, kit form bronchitis
liquorice flavour papers
combining childhood flavours
with adult life takers
the smell clinging to clothes
and hair dragon breath
but we all looked so ****** cool
so adult so grown up
so ****** clueless, *******
on our manly pacifiers
I wish I still smoked
**** yeah
just don't have the courage
some how

I offer my prayer
to the ancient Gods
of sun and wind and rain
for they are the only ones left
when all the others have failed

they are all asleep
and I sneak under cover
of the lateness of the hour
to the comfort of my words
scrawled across a page in ink
from the nib of a fountain pen
they search for a target
I'll never achieve
on a journey through my head
reaching for perfection
I am tired by a world
always demanding more
than I'm prepared to give
always asking for more
than I could possibly have
but this moment is at least mine
stolen from the clock of life

I like that you don’t know my name
this dangerous liaison
smacks of a suicide mission
in this day and age
flying solo in the erotisphere
carries all kinds of penalties
especially with broken wings
that have left me unable to soar
crawling like a serpent
banished from Eden’s beauty
for all the sins I have performed
no resistance to temptation
always accepting any fruit proffered
by shadows that pass through the night
the rings getting darker under eyes
that have seen too much bed
and not enough honest rest
too much passion with no feeling
blank faces and sweated screaming
I like that you don’t know my name
so you won’t judge me far less trace me
for my part I promise to never call again

you dream the dream
of what's in their head
lost to the living
sacrificed to the dead
spirits rise within you
Ouija magic Ouija curse
they walk among us
hidden faces a veiled darkness
they walk among us
secrets half learnt

Incubus Drive
is when me and the neighbours fall out
it's not just the volume
furniture moving bass
but I have to sing
full shout
I know all the words
you see
cos I played it
so many ******* times
it's ingrained on my beer brain
all my inhibitions
blown out
I'm on stage
in front of the microphone
air guitar
I'm no Brandon Boyd
but by Christ I'm on fire tonight

ideas trickle from my subconscious
with nothing to catch them
but a fountain pen
and notebook lined paper

they pool into an existence
like a small tide over which
I have no dominion whatsoever
spreading across the page

small seas of myself
without a moon to control them
slosh about until they somehow
make sense of each thought wave

then they begin their ebb and flow
haunting me with their sound
as they crash on an empty shore
where I'm a castaway of my words

the cracks in the mirror
start to show
makeup morning
                              clown
becomes the show
unrecognisable face
made up to be
someone you know
still laughing
just not sure at what anymore

there are days
when even your own phone
doesn't recognise you

stranger face

it's when you find out
who your real friends are

the ones who make an effort
to talk to you

I love the two wheeled demons
they are in my soul waiting
to let fly
all my inhibitions
I have studied them
coveted them
but the courage to be free
defeats me
as I see the smiling face of death
on the first hairpin bend

I set this train a' rolling
down tracks with no stations
knowing a wreck inevitable
of this wild and ridiculous ride
wind in my hair taut expression
flesh stretched across a face
expecting the outcome

a kid
with the throaty sound
of a tuned engine underfoot
cuts through my sleep
deprived eardrums
an almost tuneful exhaust note
rasps under acceleration
rippling night air outside
God I wish I was young again
when that sound alone
under my command
made me feel alive

falling falling
through space
that is only mine
this is my tragedy
you're not welcome here
the husk of my life
thrown to the wind
wherever I land
is where fate intended
me to be
take your understanding
your emotions are your own
I am falling falling
destiny my home

lying supine in my bed
rhythm stealing my thoughts
we are alone in a dark house
neither of us can sleep
water finding it's way
via my bathroom sink
to the sea
a small child returning home
force of nature tamed
to one drop at a time
and I can't help thinking
of waves crashing on a beach

where shadows fall
another world ignites
flaming in my brain
monsters crawl
product of a fertile mind
and I run screaming
but I can never escape
because they are in me

I couldn't have made it
without you
from recognising a kindred spirit
to discovering a soulmate
beyond passion, beyond even love
you are part of me

second sight alternate mind
sliding down the slippery *****
chasing a rabbit into fantasyland
the world is the same but changed
this drink is full of laughter
this drink makes everything strange
and why am I here you may ask
as I refill my already refilled glass
to find myself of course
I've looked everywhere else
and this is the only place I exist
at the bottom of a bottle
recycling  the abyss
I am alive tingling inside
and I know he is waiting
on the hangover side, but
I'll let him deal with it **** it up
while I just crawl away to Hyde
until he is again enticed
to walk away from his Jekyllite life
we're all inmates so what's your poison
prisoners here in alcoholism

no great ceremony for a Tuesday
it slips into the rest of the week
quietly jostling for position
giving Wednesday a shove
telling it to wait it's turn
pushing Monday out the way
which nobody liked and everyone dreaded
we start to forget to mourn the past weekend
even looking forward to the next
just like us it has every right to be here
perhaps even miracles can happen
perhaps this is where it all comes good

sunrise
over concrete and stone
reflected in glass and steel
the metal river flows between
as everyone leaves but never goes
seeing with their eyes closed
never enough to take their fill
onwards upwards hungering still
trying to grasp that corporate dream
luring them at every turn
faster and faster to the setting sun
they are all running to stand still
looking for happiness
unfulfilled

opinions and thoughts die
like unwanted infants in the womb
beautiful but doomed
never to see the light of life
shunned by a world
looking the other way
I feel sad, I really do
for never knowing the truth
lies perpetuated by a cruel world
always knowing better
than those under fire
better
than true desire
politicians oligarchs
self inserted gods
in their houses of cards
time for us to rise and shine
a velvet revolution
from the velvet underground

a pause
designed to create an awkwardness
a storm
brews from a cloudless sky to touch terra firma
a rage
all consuming emotion projected outwards
the eye
a calm central refuge surrounded by weather and hate
time
to prepare for the inevitable stand ground or escape
all that anger out there in the world
waiting to express itself
perhaps the clouds above us catch our wrath
projecting it back with the power of our hatred

the air outside is still
as though the world
is a living room
and the trees furniture
shouts arousing fear
sound close at hand
aggressive threatening
as though directed at me
a tiny spider crawls
up the front of my shirt
one of those that makes
a web of your head
and itches all day
a car more noise than power
echoes it's exhaust sound
round the terraced houses
then
all becomes quiet
as though waves have
mellowed into a millpond
a bird sings
the most haunting beautiful
refrain,  lonely chanteuse
filling the airwaves
finally I sleep again

a hard man doesn't need to shout
threaten or front it out
a hard man can crack an egg
without breaking the yolk

I saw the fear in his eyes
of defeats endured through childhood
bruises inflicted by a fathers rage
although now faded
cigarette burns under tattoo ink
hidden but never forgotten
he was mean when he was drunk
no particular sin apart from existence
I almost forgave him
the black eye and broken nose

depicted on her arm
hieroglyphs and pictorial charm
tattoo sleeve deep dive
into an ocean of everything
she finds so hard to relate
left hanging in the air
but don't question it
like the elephant in the room
move right on stranger
it's not speaking to you
there is a cult of believers
a religion based on trust
if you need to ask the reason
non-believer you are lost
in a garden that's a secret
that's already cast you out
you'll never know her freedom
it's a dish you just can't taste

an intimately vast space
spread out in small pockets
where once a treed horizon
dared to peek out into view
now walls enclose the square feet
so precious to the privileged few
real estate, though nothing real
about it at all, built on dreams
and promises unfulfilled
you can plan your OXO lifestyle
advertised on billboards
of temptation on the roadside
that passes what looks
like a battlefield, nature making
one last stand of liquid mud
to repel all boarders, but to no avail
tarmac veins snake and harden
making new arteries to a future
braver infantile world
of possession and greed

somewhere there's a party
you're not invited to
but the little red dress
will gate-crash the venue
desperately trying to cover
more than it reveals
it will have a better time
than ever you can imagine
until disappointment reveals
it clothes a mere mortal
not some Hellenic goddess
a mirage of alcohol
a signal of distress
somewhere there's a party
you shouldn't be invited to
full of danger, anguish
and an end to innocence

so I surrounded myself with stuff
it made me feel better
worthy, an achiever
bolstering my confidence
stuff came through the post
parcels to open everyday
it was like Christmas
stuff was in shops
where people were happy
to help spend my money
it was like they were jealous
wanting to live through me
getting the stuff they wanted
but I was paying
then I began to worship stuff
exclusive stuff
one of a kind stuff
then I woke up
literally opened my eyes
and saw all this ****
how I had coveted it
no friends, no relationship
no emotion, no soul
I was effectively dead
some Egyptian mummy
preserved in a living tomb
full of all all the ****
I'd need in the afterlife
because I had no time
to appreciate it all now
so I sold my ****
to people who were like me
and I looked at them
slavering over my old ****
and I hated them
like seeing my image in a mirror
they were so pleased
carrying off their prizes
not realising it was all cursed
they never owned anything
just stuff someone would
someday
prize from their cold dead fingers

I looked up
and saw the meteors
in my daddies eyes
fiery dreams
that had been held up
by a wish and a prayer
I saw his disappointment
that the show ended too soon
but perhaps one day
there'll be a time
for us to shoot the moon

post war baby boomer
born of Blitz lottery survivors
sixties influenced music head
mixed bad taste seventies
girly long hair and dress sense
brought new life into space age
travellers seeking new worlds
while trying to rescue the one
we messed up in the first place

emotional kata
series of strokes
against the resistance
of canvas
a picture evolves
almost like nature
becoming organic
an extension of emotion
battle conquering calamity
the brush talks
even shouts some passages
poem based in
pigment and oil
at the end
everyone is exhausted
something happened
beyond the reasonable
control of evolution

so he sits and waits
for the knock at the door
that isn’t a knock
the blindness of a light
brighter than the sun
that isn’t a light
an open pathway
that isn’t a road of any kind
for the man with the scythe
and the winning smile
who doesn’t exist
well not on this plain
he can feel the end is starting
with a new beginning
and death
whatever that is
has come to take his soul

now he knows the answer we all seek