no sunset tonight
clouds cover the grand parade
of the dyeing of the light
today will end with a whisper
not a shout
we will not notice the passing
of a time we won't remember
to forget
no tears of sorrow or laughter
or regret
nothing exciting ever seems  
to happen on a Wednesday

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

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

I take the tray from her lap
evening over
blinds drawn to darkening skies
we have weathered
the fury of another day
she sleeps, and I will have to
wake her to go to bed
those rosy coloured dreams
when our bodies and minds
were young and naïve
have caved in to reality
travellers on an epic journey
we have survived so far
who knows what lies around
the next corner
for now I'm happy to do
the washing up
tomorrow can wait in the wings

the sky is being stolen
so that so much human soup
can high rise
to live above one another
a hierarchy to whisper
in God's ear

sunlight fills the cracks
illuminated grouting

I see clouds skitter by
I'm a prisoner
jealous of their freedom
wishing I could fly

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

a sculptor
I chip away
making some form
from time
changing shape
then direction
sometimes the hero
others the villain
whatever it is
I leave behind
I know for sure
will never be finished

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

she’ll turn into her mother
one day
you can see it in her eyes
hear it in her sighs

so let’s lie in each other’s arms
and forget about the world
not worry about children
or names or gender
not worry about mortgages
on our dream castle
holidays we can’t afford
friends
who aren’t really friends
relatives
we only talk to
because they are relatives

hostile family gatherings

this is the melody of love
a song sung only once
until it’s a
slightly remembered tune
we can only just about hum

I wish I had learned to play an instrument
there is an untouched part of my soul
that will never have a voice
a chance of expression
I can never be truly lost
in music

if you can look at a cat
but not see a creature
that is both cute
and cunning
a hunter
and a scavenger
loyal yet with a pure sense
of it's own self importance
you're not ready
for people yet

a rocky place to call home
metaphorically speaking
by the side of a road
among the detritus of motorists
thrown from car windows
as was he, just a core
from an apple in an unfinished
lunch box eaten on the way home
that somehow germinated
I call him, him because
it makes me comfortable
to give gender and character
build up some sort of empathy
in the winter a sad skeleton
silhouette against a slate sky
bur every spring blossoming
to produce apples for the birds
where no human would dare
wander unless broken down
I admire the consistency
of nature and the hope it brings

close
like next to me
emotionally touching
I love you
close
like a door
slammed on an argument
a last word
finishing a relationship
ending a meeting
how funny the English language
so much room for misinterpretation
so much scope for joy
or crashing
disappointment

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

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

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

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

my ship has sailed
I waited all my ****** life
for it to come in
and now I turn round
it's on the ****** horizon
heading into the metaphorical sunset
admittedly it was only a metaphorical ship
anyway
but none the less
I've missed it

It's an aid to creation, helps the words flow
Though my muse is not amused
By the drunken ***
Who pens poems only fit for graffiti
On toilet walls
We have an odd relationship
Based on trust and understanding
I don't trust her
And she'll never understand me
I have crushed so many worlds
With the clarity of alcohol
Including my own, left to drink
By myself in bad company
It's like a sad friend, who always turns up
When you're doing something else
Needing attention, grasping for love
That they can never give back
Only to rob you of your senses
Take over your whole life and
Still leave you wanting more
It's not me, it's the drink talking
Now ******* and leave us in peace.

The cow wore this skin better than I,
A little baggy round the udder, maybe
But with a tail to keep off the flies.

I paid three hundred quid for a jacket;

With a smell that really attracts flies,
A little baggy round the shoulders, definitely
The cow wore this skin better than I.

she has produced a biscuit
that claims a Mona Lisa likeness
confectionary imbued with worth
far beyond a humble foodstuff
to be digested by a sweet tooth
novelty birthday gift consumed
likeness acknowledged in a minute
taste appreciated in seconds
party over

Leonardo lived with her as a mistress
never parting with his commission
of a merchant’s daughter
perfecting every stroke and nuance
haunted by that beguiling smile
she had him in her clutches forever
now the world lives for the minute
appreciates in seconds and moves on
there are no more banquets
just mere morsels

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

he tripped through the streets
towards home
still light of foot
under the LED lights
but another unsuccessful hunt
meant he'd be hungry tonight
perhaps he knew it was
the last time
familiar sounds and smells
preying on his mind
tonight he'd sleep
under the stars outside
curled up to keep warm
on a mild spring night

I found him under a conifer
still in a fetal curve
some time later
nature had taken it's course
his brush was still there
and some of a thick red coat
but the putrid smell told me
he had chosen my garden
to take his last breath
and I was honoured
to give him the burial
he deserved

I have never owned a pet
I borrowed them from God
to test my humanity
put another's needs first
teach me about unconditional love

there is a special place
in my heart they always have
when they go
it is a little darker and quieter
but it always belongs to them

their time is short
I want to make each day
their best and
in my clumsy selfish way
make them human

they all leave me in the end

I love too soon
without knowing what love is
I want to express it
see if I can wear it
know if I can bear it
but it is unrequited
weird even

and they all leave me in the end

I never felt a part of it
had a plan of how to spend
this gift of 24 hours
so if it's ok
I'll leave the curtains drawn
and sleep on into the afternoon
let me know
if this is likely to happen again

Stripey, furry, pollen coated
Buzzing summer stillness into life,
Journey of fertility from stamen to
Stamen, pollination, by-product of travail.
Sweet honey stored in citadel honeycomb
Shaped perfectly, Fibonacci sequence,
Queen factory birthing, supplying an army
Compulsory conscription, signed up for life
Common mind, common goal, calculating
Journeys to fertile meadows, returning
Debriefing to communicate flight path,
Destination situation report, until
One day dispatch signals failure
The hive is silenced, the computer
Turned off.

light will find us
illuminating the dust and neglect
that has gathered on our lives
shining between blinds
and curtains
we have designed to keep it out
because we are asleep
to its possibilities
and the darkness hides
our nakedness
and doubt
time to squint into the brightness
shake off the covers
and walk out

it's late August
the roads are still quiet
while a workforce
bronze in European sun
and children
sleep till noon on seemingly
endless summer holidays
staving off the winter blues
just around the corner
with Christmas decorations
already in the shops
the big push to do it all again
bigger and better than last year
is on
but today I am content
in this moment
almost
just almost
happy to drive to work

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

you taught me fear
and a mistrust of strangers
now I have no friends
and am scared of rollercoasters

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

they can steal your mind
if you're not doing anything with it
make the thoughts inside your head
voices we all deny we can hear

he forgot how to human
all the competition drained from him
sitting at the lights
in the midst of blaring horns
the gateway open
go green
go green
no one caring that HE'd broken down
looking at an event horizon
drawing him from the crowd

my wife watches tik tok in bed
sounding like she is trying
to tune in a radio to someone's life
so many voices fading in and out
or maybe a spirit box with a message
from the other side

I'm with Johannes Gutenberg
some 570 years behind
the smell of the print as much
an enjoyment as the words inside
the book I am reading
about his life

we lie
a respectable distance between us
centuries apart

Said the girl who sleeps ‘till noon
Long past ****’s crow,
Through dawn’s chorus
Rush hour, breakfast news
Until the lengthening of shadows;
“You need to live a little”
On the edge, close to the perimeter
Blade of a knife, cutting life
Do the drugs, drink the alcohol
Put the time in, whenever you can
Then sleep ‘till noon
Long past ****’s crow,
Through dawn’s chorus
Rush hour, breakfast news
Until the lengthening of shadows;
Night is where it’s at
Out with vampires,
Following the werewolf’s howl
Where creatures of darkness prowl,
You don’t need light
Darkening skin and bleaching hair,
Ageing you beyond repair;
Here you can party
‘Till there’s nothing left to party for.

I will flower like an orchid
In the forest,
Beautifully alone;
With only the sky to see my colour
The trees to call my home.
When I die, no one will cry
At the passing of my beauty;
As petals fade and leaves shrivel,
I will return to whence I came
Leaving the world unaltered.

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.

Had I not shaved my head
My hair would grow wildly
Directionless, as the wind blows
On wintry days, battering trees
Pushing branches to and fro
Without symmetry or sympathy,
I would look boyish from afar
A little disconcerting, my face
Framed with greying beard
A little desperate to hold onto
The passing years as my youth
Recedes into male pattern baldness,
(The genes don't lie), it would be
An extension of my personality
Unruly, childish, carefree, immature
This is how I could express myself
Had I not shaved my head
Wanting to keep it all inside.

it's not that I'm antisocial
that I want to be alone
or friends are an intrusion
to my fragile state of mind
it's just that I'm protecting you
from the madness behind
my eyes

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

tonight I am a poet
but that could just be
the drink talking

we went out to the desert
my young daughter and I
looking for the pilots
crash site shot down in a dogfight
over this strange landscape

we found the memorial
to their sadly shortened lives
and my daughter who had
collected shells from the beach
to take home
placed them as offerings

tears welled in my eyes
and I thanked them for their
sacrifice and this precious
moment in my life

unparalleled views across town
from fourth floor windows
taking in the changing autumn landscape
(an estate agent's *******)
the quiet room where moments
are spent contemplating a life ending
visitors wondering will you be here
for their return in the morning
but you survived your Armageddon
against all medical expectation
tenacious old man
a shadow of who you used to be
with a whisper of a future

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

I envy you
your suppleness of body
tuned muscular perfection
poised between
a creature of land
and a creature of water
shimmering with almost naked
beauty, you dive a perfect ten
into my imagination

words are drawn out of me
like sweat from a fevered mind
droplets staining the page
as they release inky diseased meaning
I must purge this sickness
give it some release
before it kills me from the inside

the sound of the ice cream van
evokes memories of summers
wearing shorts on hot tarmac
which you can almost smell
the heat coming up on your legs
a blast of warm air and fumes
as an engine fights the heat
to bring you your chosen treat
passed from an impossibly high
window already dripping onto
a hand that you pray won't drop it
coldness on the tongue anticipated
but still not ready for just how cold
something can be in contrast to
the baking sun on the back of your
neck, mission complete ritual satisfied
until you hear again the Pied Piper
like chimes of Greensleeves outside

wherever men gather
there is the hierarchy of deceit
there are those that know
those that think they know
and the sucker
who's the **** of the joke

wherever men gather
there is the hierarchy of the beast
there are those that rule
those that think they're in charge
and those who shelter in the shadow
of all of the above

wherever men gather
there is a code
wherever men gather
high or low
never to tell the secrets
they all know

I want to lose so much weight
even my own phone won't recognise me