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

king of colour
a whisper
into the future
unheard in his time
died in the pursuit
of painting a world
in his head
visions of oil
on canvas windows
into his soul
sorry your work
is for the rich and famous
not for everyone
as it was made

the line appears
confirming new life
an as yet unknown entity
taking it's first faltering steps
towards existence
in a hostile world

we already want it dead

primal cave
warm
coals glow
in an iron grate
dream lives flicker
in dancing flames
hatches battened
around the ramparts
of terraced council home
droplets run
on window panes
coursing rivers
to the sea
we are alone
suspended natural animation
with only ourselves
to blame

all that sits and waits
for him at home
is one lousy mangy dog
and the man thinks
that it is his
like some jealous lover
keeping a mistress

he doesn't understand
that the dog will never leave

an unconditional love

unlike all the women
he has ever tried to own

my daughter
left a bath bomb
on the windowsill
of our bathroom
it looks like the moon
has crashed to earth
breaking into pieces
I watch it disintegrate
in the moisture in the air
every day more and more
and as I watch
I miss her

one day son
all this will be yours
I give you the sea
for sunsets and meditation

"but you have plundered the waves
and made a desert of water."

I give you the sky to fly
spread your wings to foreign climes
discover a world of antiquity

"but you polluted the clouds
left vapour trails across the blue
perfect mantle claiming
conquest of the heavens"

I give you the earth
to travel freely and discover
it's beauty and marvels

"the earth is my home
where I thought I was safe
but a poison chalice
is all you can pass
to my parched lips
to quench a thirst for life
already taken from me"

"I am the most precious thing you have??"

"I thought you loved me beyond
the moon, the stars, the sea
the earth, beyond mortal life"

"but it seems you only loved yourself"

fruit flies
fly
around my head
in front of the computer screen
like some interrupting
audience member
late to their seat
at the cinema
large coke and popcorn
I take a sip of my wine
to find one drowned
floating in the top of the liquid
perhaps I'll leave it for them
at least they'll die happy

I see the world
through the lens
of another mans eyes
shared experience
shot at 1/500th
of a second
f8
rainforest at sunset
a whole knowledge
of technical skill
expressed in an image
I can walk into
grateful
to be a part of it

I take comfort
from the greasy food
on my plate
hunter gatherer instincts
sated, my eyes search
for campfire flickering flames
and settle on the fish tank
I am zoned
replete
in the cavern
of my own space
my day over
I wait for the miracle
of sunrise

the sun rises
birds sing
cars ignite into life
sky lightens with the dawn
could be rain could be shine
people populate streets
work calls
school and errands to run
a day like any other
except today is my birthday
when this whole miracle began
the sun rising
birds singing
cars revving
sky lightening
people to and froing
for the first time
in my existence
a long time ago
it is all still a miracle
just now I don't notice so much
because it is getting closer
to it's end

sometimes the prisons that hold us
have no walls ceiling or door
we are our own jailer
judge and jury
we’re the only ones
can set us free

he conveyed an exterior
tough as a nut
layered as an onion
sharp as a knife
tattooed like a gallery
hidden emotion displayed
across the canvas of a body
scarred by conflict
battered by life
he walked defensively
decisively
a single minded direction
where to go
what to do
pushing through crowds
politely
though no one dared
challenge him

as I lay down my head
my phone next to me
on the bed
your text
vibrates across the mattress springs
like a technological tinnitus
inside my ear
my consciousness
you want to talk
but not like that
just to make an unarguable point
guilt ridden acronyms
miss-spelt accusations
and inappropriate emojis
convey your emotions
with a twisted sarcastic humour
interlinked with your vent
you know that from the safety of 4G
it aggravates me
I’m bored with it all
too much to even reply
it would make more sense
if you weren’t
abusing me from the spare room

I think you're gone
but there is inside me
that voice
disapproving, judging
I had celebrated my freedom
with a Budweiser
and some tears
not realising like
Steven King's
Lawnmower Man
you had been released
into my every nerve ending
my very being
part of my matrix
in life you had the strength
of an ark angel
and as I stumble
over these words
I am afraid retribution
is at hand
I am still scared of secrets
to let too much show
you once asked if I still
write poetry after dissing it
well I'd hardly call it that
this is my fear factory

he went down screaming
as most men do
relieved of his freedom
set free of his will
he wanted her badly
lustfully, madly
she would take him
and break him
on love's wheel

my constant companions
are worry
with her sister
fear
dark angels
that clip my wings
so I cannot fly
cannot believe
cannot rest
they can leave
any time I want
I just have to have the courage
to let them go
but how I would miss them
those soft doubting voices
whispering my imprisonment
with the very best
of intentions

if you were given a gun today
and told to fight for freedom
who would you shoot first

I've fired a gun
felt it's rage
heat on my face
uncompromising
unstoppable decision
could I project
such inexorable
hate on another human
see them destroyed
by my anger
projected into their soul

I pour endless cups of tea
down the sink
we don't have time to drink
made for each other
like love notes we never wrote
always on the run
to or from something
a micro world of you and me
thrashing in the pond of life
with none of the finesse
of a swan paddling underneath
where are we going??
never stopping long enough
to think

I lay me down
to rest
the words enter my head
pushing and shoving
like children in a lunch queue
tiny scary voices
with an utterance of an idea
I feel compelled to put
pen to paper
I've either written
some great words
or wasted a lot of trees
I'm still clueless
but the nightmares continue
and I keep talking
inside a head
as empty as a warehouse

underpass gallery
where urban Picasso's
tag the walls as their own
having never paid a penny
in tax to offer compensation
for their spray paint intrusion
or maybe a **** and *****
or just *******
freedom of expression
being let out from under
the thumb of authority
mum and dad
school teachers
social workers
this is their voice
crying out into the darkness
of the unknown hereafter
that scares the **** out of them
perhaps we should listen
they are the future
perhaps we should be down there
with them
some of us could do
with a bit of freedom of expression
let some hair down
while there is still some left
to let

rain illuminates
the pathway
by virtue of street lights
iridescent
in the vapour
past the drug dealers house
to the dark shadows
of conifers
whose outline hides
the shape of potential
muggers lying in wait
I watch through the arrow slit
of the bathroom transom window
of my fortress home
cleaning my teeth
while my ring doorbell's
paranoid cyclops eye
keeps vigil

you are cold
to the touch
despite that smile
purporting warmth
wraith
ghost
spectre
from the corner of my eye
you cannot disguise
your shape
your shadow
your intent

I miss the satisfaction
of that little lever
advancing cellulose
frame by frame
for an unseen exposure
until developer hits film
producing an image
clicked at 1/60th of a second
in time

everybody wants you dead
bad guy
villain
in every tale
told to children
looking under beds
for nightmares
disease ridden vermin
universally hated
no more than fifteen feet
from any Londoner
on the street
above sewers where little feet
scurry among excrement
waste from those above
what did you do
you furry little **** faced
******* to obtain the moniker
of the embodiment of all evil
looking almost cute
oversized mouse
who missed out
on the distribution
of love among creatures

for all the world
he was a battleship
a tanker
all before him
pushed aside
lost in his wake
the wash felt
by many lives

inside he was a coracle
a dingy
rowing for dear life
hoping no one would notice
just how insignificant
he felt

the human heart
is not made to endure loss
the human soul
is not made to endure loneliness
it takes from us
an irreplaceable piece
cast into the stardust
of the universe
from where it came
where one day
we may find it again

there is a shortage of fuel
is all they heard as they
ran to the door car keys in hand
we are all doomed
"how will I get to the shops
go and see auntie Doris
drive to the gym
get to my golf tournament"
so they ****** the pumps dry
despite advice not to panic
they panicked
we are just short of drivers
there is enough petrol
to power you through the week
worrying about pollution
and going green
and how will it affect me me me
so tonight when you wait
for the takeaway
your taxi
the police
an ambulance
or fire engine
just remember
that trip is waiting to be made
in your selfish fuel tank

the remaining trees bore witness
to the stares of men
seeking out death
so they could avoid it
the remaining trees grow strong
on the bodies of men
who found it
never to return home
to loved ones
ordinary jobs
ordinary lives

no one can come here
the land still poisoned
by the hate of those determined
to **** each other
with
lead, chlorine
mercury and arsenic
unexploded shells and grenades
can still **** 100 years on

it is quiet
nature is allowed the freedom
to grow
fill the void
that was once mud
trenches and shell holes
this really is no man's land
because we made it so