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

bring them on
I can feel them in the wings
waiting
breath baiting me
with their memories
if I can take them one by one
I have a chance
but when they rush me
jostle and push me
then I fail
life becomes too much
and I have to reset myself

******* on a can of beer
I'm sure the answer's in here somewhere
diversion of my mind map
fools illusion, mirage'd secret
a child again
stupidly laughing
at the stupidest of things

I could conquer the universe
just as long as this bubble
remains unburst

my body starts to question though
just how far I'm prepared
to go
beyond the veil
beyond the pale
the edge of insanity
a dance with the devil

crash comes through
outer atmosphere
splashdown
of this spaceship
in a sea of pain and fear
what did I do last night
dare I answer that texted phone

you never know how long
you have them for

experiencing a loss
so close to home
so recently
every visit becomes precious
an event on it's own

trying to make sense
of a life already spent
while trying to paint a future
of alone

and I wonder if
it will ever be me
waiting for a phone to ring
someone to call round
for tea

I sit with my dad
in a house full of dreams
that perhaps
were never fulfilled
for either him or me

I sit contemplating it
a speck on a desert of floor
tracing an unfathomable journey
past unseen obstacles

direction seems lost
then suddenly
I become the target

I try to understand scale
if it were a person
I would be bigger than
a jumbo jet
skyscraper
whale

this mountain rises and moves
to carry on existence
among the clouds
carefully avoiding
a crushing blow

in my eyes how is that
spec of life
more important than mine

when you're tired of the swings
and the thrill of the roundabouts
how's  another playground
gonna recharge your adrenaline

you survived all the bruises
and the scars have healed faded
so many tumbles trying
to push an unreachable envelope
perhaps it's time to appreciate the stars
rather than trying to reach them
to conquer the universe

there are millions of us
like leaves on a branch
in a forest full of trees
what makes me so special
any more than these
trying to catch some sunlight
waiting for an autumn breeze

the trees remember me
that short walk down an urban street
to primary school
now enclosed by panicked fencing
and paranoia security systems

I watched the seasons change
growing a little
in some respect every journey

my silent witnesses look the same
monoliths marking time
with bark and moss layers
roots entrapped in black cracked tarmac
where they were meant to wander free

my conscious return is by car
they cancel the careless carbon footprint
of this time traveller

I feel connected
as though an old movie
flickers among the boughs
of my diminutive figure
ghosting along the pavement
for a moment I am with him
tears unexpectedly blurring my eyes

I was in love with love
immersed in a melancholy desire
for the affections of someone
who never existed I now realise
beyond my own stupid head

wrapped in imagination
tied with bows of fantasy
a present I could never open

anticipation
always more magical
than the actual event

this love was of my own creation
impossible for reality to measure up to
she's still up there somewhere
I visit when I can
in quiet moments of contemplation
the mistress of my brain

are my dreams real or fake
from this sleep do I awake

fear swallows me

will this road ever end
this corridor hold a monster
at the bend
how deep is this watery abyss
how long do I fall from precipice
before ground comes up
to meet me

jolted into an altered state
I pull on garments that
are a uniform
to join an army of zombied rats
in commercial experimental maze

are my dreams real or fake
from this nightmare do I awake

you are the stillness
in my life

sanctuary

while all around the world rages

granite
the hardest rock
strongest foundation

I have clung here for safety
warmth and love
immeasurably given
gratefully received

condensation runs in rivulets
to form a puddle
at the foot of the glass
a barmaid's finger imprints
still show in their disturbed path
bubbles rise to the surface
to join the communion of froth
through amber liquid

grain hops yeast water
a quartet brewed to perfection
one of the oldest beverages of man
an innocent in our drug and adrenaline
fuelled world

going for a beer with the lads
do you fancy a pint?
just a quick one
social, classless, acceptable vice
five thousand years in the making

my horoscope holds the truth
star predicted fateful path
governed by the alignment of planets
and the honesty of their course
I cannot escape fate
it's all been written
as an actor I take my part
lines written to the end
of the universe
even this poem is up there somewhere
if you look hard enough

We have never been here before
explorers on a planet
undiscovered
since the sun rose at dawn

opportunity and possibility
confront us if we dare to grasp it
today is the first day of the future
a gem, untarnished by event
unwritten by tabloid hacks
unreported by roving news teams

no shot has rung out
no insult been hurled
or reputation tarnished
hatred and prejudice
are chosen paths we can avoid

this is a new day
this is the future
if we let it be

shovels
too big for delicate iPhone keypads
paws for digging in the dirt
rough stumpy fingers
bloodied with cuts and cracks
calloused through manual labour
working in the winter cold

but sometimes

they can produce beauty
a little light
some magic
to compensate for their ugliness

stars scar the sky
etching diamond points
into the beautiful veil
that was once blackness
velvety soft

so we can navigate
foretell our fate
and wonder what lies beyond

pollute our minds
with fantasies of aliens
hope for our future
belief in a god

but the light we see is dead
long extinguished
taking millions of years
to reach us

we can stare into our past
all the way to our creation
but who knows what lies ahead
for sure

I will watch forests grow and fall
see the seas rise and swallow countries
the sun dim into a minor star
be able to take a return trip to Mars
witness the folly of man squabbling
like infants, fighting in the dirt of life
while knowing what infinity is
though I'll never see an end to it

I shall become alone, afraid of love
see my children born and bury them
watch the loves of so many lifetimes
wither into old age and die leaving
me heartbroken knowing I can never
follow them into the darkness
death and I will sit and talk about old times
and all the moments he has stolen from me.

Just because I wander alone
doesn't mean I'm lost
some of us don't want to be found
happy with a hermetic existence
along the sidelines of life

company means conversation
friends mean I have to try
make the effort to entertain them
keep up with their stupid lives
laugh and be engaging, for fear
the searching "Are you alright"
stay up late beyond my patience
waiting for them to ******* home
people dropping by to see me
when all I want is to be on my own

misery loves company
but I can be it by myself
loving the melancholy darkness
wallowing in self piteous baths
drinking alone just to be daring
inviting addiction and even worse
having fun dancing naked
or sitting around in my underpants

I have a stone
As smooth as a bone,
In my sky rocket.
More precious than a diamond
Though it doesn’t shine,
In my sky rocket.
You gave it me in the garden
When we were weeding and planting,
A “Lucky stone” you called it
To remind me of you,
Wherever I go and you can’t.
So, I carry a stone
As smooth as a bone
That is you,
In my sky rocket.

I want to go
Where the birds can go,
Escape these ***** streets
Escape in my wildest dreams,
From
Traffic ques and road rage
Constant din of the rat race,
A voyage of serendipity
Here to the deep blue sea.

How can there be a space left
That was never filled,
Except with expectation.
The wonder of a face
Setting eyes on this place,
For the very first time.
A name waiting to be uttered
An identity ready to be claimed.


You lay in starched sheets
Surrounded by cheerful pink walls,
Waiting to be discharged;
After a labour that brought forth
The remnants of a life.
While at home I waited
Wanting to know your pain
To share what was still ours;
Our son lay laughing in bed
Unaware of his own small loss.


Then, like a pilot
Over the radio, as the plane
Leaves its fragile flight,
Last words of someone already dead;
The sound of an infants cry
Came across the airwaves
Of our baby monitor;
I know a trick of frequency
Picked up from a nearby house,
But never heard before
Or since, such coincidence;
As though to say goodbye.

Let me describe the curve;


It is smooth as carved stone
Yet soft and warm
A texture like silk.
From where it begins
You can run your hands down
To describe a perfect pear.


Savouring each caress,
Let your hands feel
A hardened excitement
Electrifying your senses
Infecting the mind
With a passionate madness.


The curve can re-form,
Still described perfectly
Leaving everything in place,
Perspective changes
Enhancing new features
For fingers and tongue to explore.


You can become part of it
Melt into the sculpture.

I've fumbled
dropping my dignity

it's not a lol
slapstick moment
more foolish tragedy

I am your clowning glory
in the circus of our life
the wheels are falling off again
as I'm travelling too fast

it's always so ****** funny
in a sad pathetic way
you laugh your stupid face off,

even though I get your sympathy
it's from the height of pity
not emphatic in any way

I can perform all night
though not the way you'd like
struggling with the *** thing
to satisfy your cravings
while trying not to cry

am I here to entertain you
my mask a tragic farce
looking like I've got it together
But I'm dieing on my ****.

Bright white, blinding,
lost in a sea of light.
Radar no longer functioning,
then suddenly intense, murderous heat
scorching legs and wings.


Trying to navigate a way out
they watch from the bed,
lost in its own Bermuda Triangle.


He is fascinated - how stupid
a creature can be to **** itself
on a light bulb.


She, understanding the distraction
of the light, sheds a tear
for how love hurts
and destroys you in the end.

Stillness
heat haze shimmering
distorting hedgerows and landscape
alive with nature buzzing, chirping, fluttering
continual motion,
though
we feel like lazing, resting not sweating
absorbing heat and radiation
drawn to beaches to sit like the terraced
houses we inhabit, still on each other's
doorstep next to a sea lapping the sand
bringing down walls of castles and mounds
built on the memories of childhood
we will one day treasure to measure
the enjoyment we will pass on
of halcyon days, in summer sun.

Words tumble,
Like a box of nails
Spilling erratically
Onto the floor, stabbing
In all directions;
When they were made
To hold things together.


Just time to react,
But I’ve hit
My **** thumb again,
Instead of a nail on the head;
Trying to seal another
Pandora’s Box full of evil
Secrets and recriminations.


Blindly on, through the redness
Of anger, hit and run;
Blow parry, blow
So many things remembered
Like a diary of our lives,
Every occasion
I forgot, didn’t notice, ******* up.


Then silence; but not calm
A creeping space between us;
We will split
Like a piece of timber
Once useful, now driftwood
Two halves needing each other
Needing words to hold us together.

She is moving away:
Not in any sense of going,
It is a spiritual thing
A space between us,
Like there has never been.
She sometimes looks at me
And I don’t recognise her at all
But still see how she once was,
Recounting stories of childhood
Which always starts a row.
For all this space between us
I feel she needs me more,
To bridge the gap that teenagers
Feel as they move away;
Not in any sense of going
It is a spiritual thing,
I must take the slack up
And see her as a woman.
But I can’t help always finding
That little girl inside,
And want to reach and hug her
Tell her everything’s alright.
But I am not supposed to do that,
Because the space is there
To prove she is a woman,
Who can survive without her dad.
If she keeps on moving
But not in any sense of going,
My spirit will be broken
And my heart full of such pain;
I love her as I always have
To me she hasn’t changed,
She’ll always be my little girl;
Here comes that row again.

I have finally found you
In St. Enodoc Church;
Home is where your heart rests
Not your place of birth.
Summoned by the three o’clock bell
A pilgrim across the eleventh fairway,
Towards a crooked spire that protrudes
Like a drowning swimmer,
Signalling to be rescued from the dunes.


As I enter through the gate
Your headstone greets me with a shout;
A marvel of the stonemason’s art
Explosive script from marbles cold darkness,
Radiates your humour and warmth.
I am not humbled, sad nor afraid
This place is fitting to rest your phrase;
Looking down at where you lie
I try to imagine that lived-in face.


Archibald lies at your head
Old and trusted, faithful ted;
So much heard, but nothing said
All through the years of pressured steps,
To follow where your father led;
But you had other plans and instead
Were drawn to words with rhythmic thread,
That made you Poet Lauriat, a knight
Who finally has found some peace.

Why do I have to fight,
Painfully make my point
Bruising flesh, drawing blood,
Cracking heads to prove I’m right.


Why do I have to lose;
My dignity, the ability to
Verbalise, the anger that I feel.


I impose my will; threatening
Shouting, my face a mask
Tribal headpiece, worn
For my battle dance.


Adrenalin pumps, muscles start
To fuel, from my thumping heart.
Red rage clouds my eyes,
Blocking out pain, fight or flight.


My opponent falls, injured, shocked,
By an anger so powerful
That my body is consumed,
With the impact of my exploding mood.

She dies again each day when he awakes;
Slipping from dreams chaotic release, momentarily
All is as has always been; slowly the emptiness
Invades, as daylight through the curtains
Penetrates corners of the room, his mind
Drawn to clothes on the chair scented
By her perfume, slippers waiting footless by the door
Ready to shuffle across the landing to the bathroom
A journey taken for fifty years, but no more;
Downstairs the kettle waits to be filled
Just enough for one cup, a bowl for cereal
A spoon to consume, one of everything
One, singular, alone, lonely, no ‘good morning,
Love how are you’, just a table set for him.

Gotta’ keep going, always on the move
Avoiding time to think, life a blank canvas
That has to be filled with an indiscriminate
Sketch of moments, connecting into days
Creating a new picture of his life, unplanned
Unexpected, unwanted, unfinished portrait
Of a single man drowning in grief, to hang
Among the pictures she so carefully painted
Framed on the walls of the hall he walks alone
Heading for the kitchen where there waits
A table for one.

They are proclaiming their allegiance to God
With the loud voice of brass
Their only audience is the rain
And a few disinterested pedestrians
Walking home from the pub or newsagent
On a Sunday afternoon.

Does their faith make them impervious
To the condition of the weather
As well the general lethargy that greets them.

Smart groomed uniforms, buttons gleaming
Bright shining instruments, oom pah!
The battle cry of their religion
They all look so ****** healthy and happy

Do they really know something I don't
Or are they the ones missing the point

I watch an hour hold its breath
And wait to let it out
Hands slowed by an unseen force
As they travel across the clocks face
These dark days feed me
With a hunger for warmth and light
A feeling that can only leave me
Chasing rainbows in between clouds.

Another day, a little more hope
See what happens given enough rope
Waiting for the longest drop
When darkness stops my ticking clock
Nobody has called my name
Not even a candle to light the way
For my fate I stand in line
My daily bread still leaves me starving

Just when it couldn't get any worse
Suddenly the heavens opened
Making rivers of all my sorrows.
Soon all at sea without a float
I will sink with the sun in the west
Setting fire to the sky
As though God has taken my anger
And made it beautiful.

The street is silent
Everything become still,
Cars pulled up on pavements, make way
Pedestrians, without utterance
Transfix their gaze,
As though Death himself
Sat behind the wheel
At the head of the cavalcade;
Brushing a tear from the cheek
Of his smile fixed face:

A small white box,
Lost in the back
Of a long black limousine,
Continues on its journey;
Unhindered by a day
That up to that moment,
Was very like any other;
Until there it was
Iridescent in the sunlight
Making a last short journey
From cradle to grave.

I swear not a bird sang
Nor an engine idled restlessly.

I have stretched my skin
Around an appetite I cannot quench.
A hunger to blot out the pain
With calorific gain;
Soon the life I was running from
Caught up with me,
I became consumed
By the size of my own sorrow
My unhappiness evident
By my bulging torso.

I can no longer run from the agony
I have become it.

the surprise attack
is always a great play
feigning love interest
like the pitbull never wags it's tail
all the time waiting for a fight
for no other reason
than to let it all go

I have spent my life
looking through a window
at the colourful parade

my search for a door was futile
I really can't see a way in

no one notices me here
banging, shouting, waving

but I will make them look
I will make them stare
aghast in disbelief

I will cause a reverberation
around the world, steal screen time
in news reports and on tv
people will ask why, why
what went so wrong
how can we stop this
from ever happening again

Well there are all kinds of crazies in the world, sometimes you just have to let them in, but above all and most importantly, keep them away from guns.

Size 12,
I've put on a bit of weight
Certainly haven't grown,
But really, I've never been a size 12!
Shiny and new, worn once
Probably never to be worn again,
They will always be the shoes
I bought
To go to my mum's funeral in.

Never allowed to grow
Beyond ornamental,
Small perfect leaves
On small well pruned branches;
To please the eye
Of miniature torturers.


Cramped in a micro life,
Roots restrained
Within un-natural boundaries.
The promise of a tree
Never really fulfilled,
Beyond a whisper.


Fussed over relentlessly,
Like an O.C.D.
Perfect shape and form,
Trained from natural beauty,
To sit on a shelf
Hidden from reality.

A little pill
To enhance the night,
Relaxation
At its height,
Lights shining
A little too bright;
Dance crazed
Music is life.
Coming up
On a Mitsubishi,
Living life
In Ecstasy,
Popping no stopping
The party, until…..
Ten years on
I fried my brain,
Dancing still
All night long;
Between the sheets
Home, alone.