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.

We are the recorders of history
weirdos, winos forgotten souls
sideline shadows watching
for someone to fall, so we
can write a verse or two on tragedy
twist it out of our tormented minds
to show we care in our special way
but we do not change the world
for if there were no misery
we'd run out of material to write about

You would stare if I were beautiful

but I offend your eyes
sideways glances emphasise
how afraid you are to look
confront that fear head on
people like me even exist

you sympathise of course
goes without saying, terrible
must be awful to live with

then you check your fingers
and toes, see how perfect they are
and move on, no more ugliness today
to spoil your mood.

We walk
In glow of silver screen,
We talk
In acronyms and SMS slang,
The star
Of an everyday movie
Camera man, script writer, director
Floating in the ether
Weaving our tapestries,
Between radio masts
Life on earth, live on earth
Spaceman, time traveller
On a voyage of discovery,
Walking and talking to ourselves
Without noticing the outside world,
Only interested in our own
Biographies;
Time for another selfie…………….

Black rain falls
ice cold
emotionless

desolate tarmac roads
puddles of ugliness form
devouring light
drawing in the world
dark matter
the abyss lies beyond
headlight's reach

reflected buildings distort
as cars spin
aquaplaning tyres
across mirrored
mercurial surfaces

downdraught suppresses
exhaust fumes
as dragon automobiles
slither their hissing way
neon lit fire breathing
monsters of road and byway

home is measured
by the length of the next queue
rather than miles per hour

I sit and eat potato chips
on my couch in front of tv
I am a cannibal
sofa surfing
channel hopping
media crawling
it's the only exercise
I get these days
too busy observing
to join in
my critical critique
leaves me astounded
as to how absurd the world can be
missed penalties and opportunities
keep me ranting
panting in disbelief
reality isn't reality tv
everybody becomes an actor you see
they're just not famous
enough yet to be celebrity
one of these days I'll make the news
headline report with shocking footage
couch potato ate himself to death
binging on a 52 inch flat screen.

The leaf spreads
lungs of the earth

cloaking summer skies
from squinting eyes

but does it live for
that one gentle flight
of autumn, floating
to the ground
a few brief moments
of freedom

Afraid of our own shadow, but
yearning to be free, searching
for our utopian ideal

life's a beach
gravy, easy street

scared to loose the chains
with which we bind ourselves
break free from obligation

our 'destiny'

into chaos

open the door of our life cell
of order, routine
step through the veil
live the dream
but all we can do
is complain and complain

We'll wake up and smell the coffee

God counts them in, three by three
rainbow children dancing free
forbidden fruit unfamiliar to Eve

the arc is leaving for the sinful to drown

so bring on the clowns, the jugglers
and actors, luvvies, lovers of flesh
summon them to entertain us
with original sin and panache
we set sail tomorrow at sunset
to wake in the morning to the smell
of coffee and angels burning
burning in Hell

I'll bite and snarl at your wheels
rumbling past me up that hill
I know you'll never stop
leaving me stranded
a mad dog.

I follow the slow funeralistic parade
Too late to escape, warning came
On the radio, way past my last exit
I wonder who has died today?
Cars pass what were once shiny projectiles
Such as they, but are now soulless wrecks
Burnt out, like X-rays.


Who fell asleep at the wheel
Or made that last telephone call
That just couldn’t wait, while
Still chasing time in the fast lane,
To catch up with a schedule that now
Is as redundant as the chunk of metal
He was still trying to pay for.


Flashing lights mark the perimeter
Of some executive’s last stand
An accident? Perhaps, but maybe
Life just became that bit too quick
And caught up with him
An overdose of technology, leading to
A breakdown in human capacity.


We, the survivors, look on with grief
That could’ve been me! But not
Thankfully today, speeding on our way
Soon forgetting the graphic lesson
Someone gave their all to paint
But we have to look, just to see
If anyone has really died today.

The pen scratches across 80gsm
whiteness polluted by thoughts
translated into ink stains

guided by some unseen hand
I sometimes write things
even I don't understand

Spin the chambers
Await your fate
Balance the odds
Against life and death
Everything rests
On one short second
That could last
For the rest of your life.


You sit now
A whole life ahead
But you take a needle
To inject some feeling
Can you hear the click
Ear-splitting bang
As the bullet flies
Freer than you’ll ever be.

A wilderness is untamed,
nature bursts forth in all its glory;
without the guidance and destruction of
man.
It is beautiful,
a place where the soul is free,
although it may be in danger.


A wilderness is here.


Concrete slabs put upright
with windows;
facing more concrete.
Trees are sparse and trained,
grass short and restrained;
people reign.
An empty kingdom
of blank angry emotion,
called civilisation;
where the soul is definitely in danger.


It is our wilderness.

There is calm

early september pushes summer's
burning sun aside
light changes
air cools, like chilled water
on skin, drink it in

autumn beckons
winter threatens

there is a sadness in your heart
as the world changes
an eternal cycle of hellos
and goodbyes
punctuated with days
that you stick into that memory
scrapbook, which may or may not fade

but now there is this stillness
nothing is happening
before all Hell lets loose
I can be happy
savour a moment
a moment of truth.

He walks the end of the pier, alone
No home to go to,
A ghost in ragged clothes
Passing among the crowds,
Unseen and unheard
But he always feeds the gulls,
Their noisy raucous squabbling
Over a few scraps of bread,
Reminds him of how unhappy
All these tourists really are,
Pretending to enjoy their holiday
Kidding themselves they are free.

Speed king

Stolen car
Tyre scream
Rush, adrenalin

Forget cops,
Don’t stop
In flight
Across night

Take your fill
Ride the thrill
Like a wave
Surfing on danger
Pushing limits
Better than any pill

Evidence
Cauterized
Charred remains
In the countryside

Someone’s pride and joy
Will be announced dead
On a doorstep
In the morning.

A Jet
In a clear blue sky
Leaving a faint vapour trail
Pure white across azure

Perfect summer day
People shopping, driving
Leaving the house with claims
Of “Be back soon”
Not knowing they’d never be fulfilled

A crowd, in anticipation
Packed like sardines
Around an arena, waiting to be awed
Wowed by the spectacle of flight
One man among the clouds
Mocking their gravitational prison

But today, worlds collide
Are destroyed
Man finds that fragile flight
Ends on a road at traffic lights
Not the spectacle expected
But no less dramatic, a ball of flame

The crowd take pictures for the press
Hoping for a mention on the news
And update facebook status
Under a sky of clear blue

Inside this scaled down life
We move like goldfish
The pretence of an ocean
In four small rooms.
So many other lives swim
Within the same space
One upon another
Surrounded by the din
Of each other and the world
Passing by.


Is it any wonder
We have become insane
Looking for ways out
Expression through graffiti
Escape through drugs
Destroying the symmetry
Of our own environment
To mimic the bounty of nature
Destroying each other, for peace
And a chance to sleep alone.