mine is a faint light
easily blown out
disturbed by the slightest breath
to see it it has to be very dark
very still
almost nothing

mine is a tiny voice
for such a big man
easily drowned out
with the shouts
of everyday life
and the conversations
so much more important
than what I have to say

mine is an empty space
like a storage locker
before it becomes storage
a house before it becomes
a home
or a garage before
you buy a car

but one day my light may guide you
through your darkness
one day you may need to see the way
one day my voice will comfort you
being the only one you can hear
that says anything to you
and one day my space
may be all the space you need
to rest your head
collect your thoughts
gather your strength
so you can carry on
ignoring me again

what makes us want to dance
in sunlight
what abandonment is triggered
by the simplest of elements
in our ancient brain
that can bring joy
even in our darkest moments
a prisoner in his cell
a soldier fighting a living hell

what makes us want to dance
in starlight
what abandonment is triggered
in our ancient brain
by the celestial mantle
of the sky lit by sparks
already burnt out
shedding a light from
the dawn of time itself
that we still wonder at

what makes us want to laugh
at the simplest of things
to find mirth in a cat’s antics
a child’s play a stupid joke
you already knew
the punchline to anyway
why
because we should
no matter what shadows haunt us
no matter how hopeless it all seems
we are still human
in our hearts born to be free

not there for the birth of love
nor the conception really either
already moved on to pastures new
greener grass new playgrounds
I will miss you as you were
a delicate beauty blooming
in the warmth of summer sun
skin un-sinned flesh un-tarnished
a curiosity of unexplored emotions
badly answered selfishly shattered


I have lived a life of absence
never there when needed
only answering the call of lust
never the one to bring flowers
just invasive thoughts and gestures
never the one to talk on pillows
after passion in the darkness
the timeless time of lovers
the loveless time of *******
like me already gone

the attraction of a moth to a flame

you always buy a ticket
got to be in it to win it
life is a lottery
a game of chance loss or gain
betting on a horse that’s lame
always loaded to the dealer’s hand

wake up
wake up

from the dream
tomorrow is another day
because you see it that way
the moment is now
never before lived
the place may be familiar
but take in the landscape

forgive yourself the pain
bad decisions flawed refrain
your future is here and now
step through the door
take a bow

she giggled and said
let’s play hide and seek
it’ll be fun

she ran off to hide
in her books and her friends
her job and Saturday nights out
soaps on tv box set marathons
long protracted telephone conversations
with her mother

I looked for her at breakfast
while busy running for the bus
home late I failed to detect
the warm glow of a relationship
cooling along with my dinner
eaten alone in cold isolation

one day we bumped into each other
in the hall dodging from side to side
we could not shake
an encounter that had to happen
sometime in a one bedroom house

she looked well though older
a few laughter lines
on her face I’d not made
around eyes that no longer smiled
for me
she giggled and said
found you at last

but sadly too late

tale as old as time
a gram to get inside your mind
find a space to settle down
trip into alternate realm
away from sorrow
away from pain
this is your big release
beauty and the beast

we are all accomplices
the plate cannot lie
something murdered casually
so we can finely dine
oozing still the blood
that once coursed it's veins
a rare and gruesome pallet
enjoyed with chips and peas

yet we pet the dog
call him companion and friend
invited into the family
like a furry surrogate child
stroke the cat on our evening lap
cooing and talking
like they understand
they have the protection of PET

otherwise we'd be cuddling a snack

we take this narrow
fragile flight into the light
ghosts even before we die
haunting the world
with fleeting moments
as we pass by
leaving memories and shadows
of our former selves
free in our limited way
to follow destiny

too many stories ending
shadows left on hearts
who grieve a selfish loss
pretending they can cope
knowing they are
a little more alone today
glimpsing the last page
epilogue epitaph preordained
we capture each new moment
determined to be unafraid

people are still dying
the war is not yet over
the enemy is invisible
from which we all take cover
doors they are no barrier
no defense and little comfort
our adversary could be with us
sitting on the sofa

my body is a temple
that has crumbled to the ground
my hands are not too delicate
and neither are my thoughts
my religion has been flawed
believing I am right
the only path to follow
into the darkest night
but there are embers in the ruins
that still burn even now
a fire I can't extinguish
it just won't go away
if you save one of God's creatures
you become one of his kind
so let me save your soul
so I can save my mind

the bread you gave us yesterday
was warm and smelt of home
it tasted sweet and comforting
our stomachs full to bursting

the bread you gave us today
was mouldy and hard to swallow
it tasted of bitter memories
of how you loved us once

the bread you'll gives us tomorrow
will be hard and cold as stone
it will taste forgotten like ashes
when the fire has lost it's soul

gulls squawk angrily on our roof
they argue about survival
forgetting they carry the souls
of drowned mariners

we argue in our bedsit
penned into a miniature life
fighting for identity
the right to be ourselves

we could be by the sea
but those angry squabbling scavengers
have never seen a wave in their lives
just gulls not seagulls

forgetting ourselves
we spar around the furniture
you are southpaw
I am orthodox

they root through *******
scattering it everywhere
no use to man nor beast
disease ridden vermin

wrapped up in life
forgetting how to fly
but we can all soar
if we ride the thermals

we should remain strangers
you and I
keeping secrets from each other
about our private lives
knowing becomes owning
then true love dies

we should tell lies
you and I
because honesty can be ugly
why spoil perfect days
truth be ****** in a blink
of your beautiful eyes

we should live apart
you and I
so we can miss each other
be lonely and pine
for the company
the other provides

we should see other people
you and I
we will always be unfaithful
so disappointment and failure
have already
broken our hearts

do you want anything
from the shops
she said
it used to be pizza and beer
nowadays just
you home safely
my love

she bought a new dress
made of boyfriend material
it confessed how desperate she was
hugging her nymph like figure
just begging for it
whatever 'it' is

*** is a journey taken by two people together
travelling to different destinations
not necessarily arriving at the same time

you can only have one
box of eggs she said
but we have to make omelettes
for five
well you just can't have them
she reiterated
now cashiers are making
culinary decisions in my household

the tattoos they got
in love and in anger
have turned to cartoons
not warnings of danger

Pete Townsend was singing
about my generation
who are now on Zimmer frames
and hormone replacement

the kids were alright
in the cafés downtown
where the little blue pills
went around and around

now mellowed stagnated
judgemental outdated
by the new youth culture
that’s moving and shaking

jumping on bandwagons
and acting like tarts
they’re all ******* green
with no purple hearts

but the culture it ended
the scooters all scrapped
and none of them realised
that The Who they just rocked

my house
is full of furniture
bought without thought
for colour or design
instead
functionality
practicality
space
convenience
and do I really need it
rule my decision making

no feng shui
rhythm or flow
it forms directionless avenues
walked daily in confused circles
wondering what I am looking for

my limbo house
where I dream my dreams
waiting for a ship to come in

the time has come
when walking home
with two loaves of bread
and a pack of gammon rashers
makes you really feel
like you're bringing home
the bacon
I have seen sights
that are from the movies
I am Legend comes to mind
the whole world become
greedy grasping zombies
out for their own personal gain
we have turned our backs
on community compassion
left with a void
once filled with toilet roll
and pasta
queues outside supermarkets
marshalled by police
people stockpiling petrol
***
we're supposed to be on lock down
where the hell are you going
the old and vulnerable
pushed to the kerb of life
thrown from the safety of a pavement
now reserved for the big enough
to elbow everyone else
out of the way
but today I have bacon
and bread
today I can have a sandwich

you are fumbling about
sonar disabled
looking for a direction

everyone can see
where this is going
and it's not pretty

we wait
the friendship net outstretched
for your fall
from grace

cocooned
surrounded by food
hibernating bear
waiting out a cold winter
Smaug on a pile of gold
secure
bolstered against the onslaught
of an unseen enemy assault
more provisions than Tesco
locked down
sweating on sell by dates expiring

the birds sing a little louder
each morning
or am I imagining it

dolphins have come to play
in the canals of Venice
along with beautiful white swans

nature is coming alive
no longer forced into the shadows

as we stand on the edge
of our extinction
I'm getting a feeling of
about time
and good ******* riddance

t.v. stole imagination
smashing it from my head
nothing left
for my mind’s eye
to see

drawn
a moth to a flame
violated
life in Technicolor
a movie
roll credits

some time ago
I went out to get
a packet of ****
and forgot how
to find my way
home again

I drink a perfect summer
fermented strawberry red
with a hint of liquorice aftertaste
from when the world was better
summers warmer and longer
and I wasn't even alive

I put my eyes
where they had no business
imagined my thoughts
inside their minds
following
hand in hand down the street
while they whispered sweet nothings
shooting the breeze
young and innocent
old and disillusioned
beauty and the beast
I wanted their mystery
to steal it for myself
I wanted to be them
both
to feel that burn in my stomach
that pleasure lived in a moment
when nothing matters
everything is now
just being
looking into another face
and recognising it as though
you’d known them all your life
hold a sweating hand
for companionship not possession
before ***
the realisation of love
an end to the innocence

I look like Raffa
(Rafael Benítez, Spanish football manager)
no ****!
you put a picture of him next to me
we look like long lost twins

but people don't seem to get
I'm not actually him

vilified by van drivers
builders on scaffolds
through open car windows

"oi Raffa you *****"

they don't seem to understand
he wouldn't be walking
carrying shopping
down the high street

I also look a bit like Peter Sutcliffe
but we'll leave it there I think

all I want is to do, do ,do
but I'd like to smell the roses too

it is strange to see
irregular lines scrawled
across the page
in some small way I made them
helped to shape from where they came
then it slowly dawned on me
they could be better than anything
I have ever penned to page

there is a dark room
the curtains are pulled
a little light penetrates
behind the locked door
I rarely go there
except in secret moments
when I know it's safe
and my hardened shell
can offer protection
I have to be strong
for the ones who rely on me
but like a weeping wound
my curiosity is drawn
visits get fewer and fewer
at some point I must stop
putting my childish anger
to rest

we climb
higher and higher
in our ivory towers
land is at a premium
a square foot a king's ransom
so we dwell among the clouds
eye to eye with the birds
though never know their freedom
we are with the stars
though we burn out
their celestial light
we can whisper in God's ear
though above the clatter
he may never hear us

the metal river flows
into ocean city
with bright lights
human rights
no mercy and no pity
past the world before we came
now roadkill and genocide
become our main aim
the future is today
the living moment
we are on our way
without a clue
of a final destination

give us this day our daily bread
sustained life is better than dead

we fight our wars
oppress populations
make us a game of it
on console by playstation
killing our conscience
with technological brain washing

a game of thrones
and ideology
I can tell the time
in over two thousand years
but I still can't tell
what day it is
people come and people go
the metal river
it flows and it flows

I have spent my life so far
looking through a window
as the parade passes
searching for a door
some way in

to date this hasn't happened

stuck in purgatory
awaiting an official decision
of my fate

I patiently age
beyond recognition
having little of myself
left to give

I will know the sign
like an aneurysm in my brain
bursting to let my spectre escape
a change is  a-coming
but will I survive
my coming out

is like someone
holding your ******* eyes wide open
shining a torch into your brain
everything revealed
no shadows
dark corners
hiding places
disguises
pretences
bolt holes
you are who you are
and all you want to do
is come up and drop out
turn the light out

I'll trudge
this shingle beach of a week
days hurting my feet
like stones
two steps forward
one back
I'll not be defeated
the weekend
we reach our pier
rides on the waltzer
roller coaster
ferris wheel
helter skelter
until it ends
waking on the shore again

clues have always been there
the closet door left open
for those that bothered to walk into it
rhythmic Polari conversed
in whispers in the ether
of internet sites reserved
for my niche interests
hiding in plain sight, ninja style
but I find I have to face my demons
shout it from the highest rooftops
i'm a coming out poet
and I'm so over who knows it

she loved the sunrise
all that hope promised
first light of a new day

I was always a sunset kind've guy
preferring to know it's all over
watching my anger and disappointment
drain from the sky

we're no longer together

days passed
and we never saw eye to eye

on the sofa
binging on bargain bucket box set series
and copious volumes of alcohol
warm in our shared delusion
that the end of the week
requires celebration

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

enamelled armies
draw up battle lines
inside the cave of my mouth

as I sleep
they fight the war of stress
that rages in my head
shattering incisors
grinding molars
into paste

no one is going to win
no one is giving up
pretty soon I won't have anything
to smile about

my muse teases me
with the faintest of smiles
then is gone
unrequited love
leaving a sweet taste
of what could
if only be

torturing my mind with ideas
fantasies
when put on paper
turn to epitaphs
where another train of thought
has died

I have to coax
bring out of the shadows
the beauty she has
for me
that I may write enlightened
set free

they are selling sunshine
on these ***** streets
offering escape
at bus stops
beyond the ride home
with hoarding speak
dreams, new worlds
new life, new you
away from this ****** existence
we all perceive
step into
the advertiser's dream

I see
the impermanence of it all
the stuff we can't take with us
that we hoard
in second hand shops
car boot sales
charity shop windows
end of childhood
end of relationships
end of fashion
the end of lives
set out for a new generation
to claim ownership of
who will buy my memories
when I'm gone