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

she wants to find the
source of my unhappiness
as though it is a thing
we can search for like
a talisman and destroy

she wants to find the
source of my unhappiness
as though it’s a place
we can move from and
just not go there anymore

not even I understand
why it is I feel so sad
among my loved ones
my tribe, but every new
day there is always rain

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.

Small triangles of lycra
cover heaven
in this tanned landscape
of flesh

basking like beached seals
under the god sun
worshipped for its power
through the protection of lotions
and creams, keeping
cancerous skin at bay

grains of sand
smashed from rock
innocently hide nature's power
all around

bodies dipped into an ocean
already polluted
by greed and the impurity
of this impossible dream

the tide plays with them
like a cat with a mouse
knowing full well with one pounce
all would perish

the earth tolerates our blindness for now
but before you dip a toe in the water
know this
you will be washed away like the
castles you make, pretending
you have dominion
over this sleeping monster.

I look back at the wreckage
of my life
mass of twisted emotion
car crash of desire
watching the beauty of bridges
burning out in the night
how can you understand me
when I barely know who I am
searching for personality
a place to call myself
mirrored in your eyes
I'm who you're looking for
an oasis in the desert
full of the promise of disappointment
leading to so many dead ends
that never had an entrance
lets skip the intro
move on to the overture
I don't do goodbyes
just change the music
and onto the next show

music is playing in the other room
music playing
in another room
music
in another room playing
a tune
disturbing my mood
from another room
invading my space
from somewhere else
another room
music
SHUT UP!!

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.

I watch the rat boys
trip the light fantastic
across once well manicured floors
of forests of wood and panel
lined walls graffitied with
the signature **** and *****
language that would not
have been tolerated in such
hallowed halls, falls easily
from lips accented with Yorkshire drawl
appreciating architecture they can
(like the rest of us)
only dream could be their pad
their crib, their humble abode
with a taste for the gothic
or art nouveau
they are lookers, explorers
nosey little toads fuelled by
an unquenchable curiosity
to see what's behind that fence
that hedge or garden wall
if you find them in your house
you are a ghost, for they hunger
only for the derelict, the abandoned
time stopped in a moment preserved

my grandad on my mother's side
was a lamplighter
so sad that these memories should die
that in some small way
helped to make me

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

He watches them with amused scorn,
The tourists with their cameras
Factual guide books and audio tours;
Collecting his memories as their own
Walking from room to room,
Trying to sense his presence
Capture the essence of his spirit;
Ignoring the signs that say
Please don’t touch and
No photography.

He was a tourist who conquered worlds
Risked his life for his souvenirs,
Instead of visiting the gift shop
For some token piece of plastic crap,
Or magnet to put on the fridge door
As a reminder when they got the milk,
Of adventures they never had;
Wishing they could’ve walked
In the footsteps of the ghost,
Of a tourist.

you can see the forward
in my eyes
skin lined with the people
to so far thank for the ride
if you delve into the chapters
there's a need to sit down
this is no fiction nobody's clown
the story will end
right in front of your eyes
where I am standing
without my disguise

you walk with the ignorance of youth
to live forever
tomorrow as throw away
as any cigarette ****
or boy that bored you
who mentioned LOVE
an indestructible force of nature
but once I walked with you
arm in arm laughing
a moment of time we shared
forever
you were fleetingly mine
before we parted
strangers
on a Saturday afternoon

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.

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

No fiery fate awaits my ****** soul
In Dante’s infernal inferno, on Level Five
I will swim beneath the wrathful
To permanently drown, with bulging eyes
Gasping for a breath I can never take
The River Styx, the embodiment of my sorrow
Liquified unhappiness, stagnant sadness
My sin? To live my life with a glass half empty
Having found no joy in man, nor God, nor the world
Which has already left me feeling punished.
I wonder if I’ll get a break down there,
Or will I still have to work my ******* lunch hour!

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

what is worse
a picture of a *****
or a picture of a gun
for some reason
we have it in our heads
a **** is wrong
but somewhere someone
is thinking how cool
it would be to shoot someone

we are all anonymous now
not even a face in the crowd
defined by the mask we wear
rather than the one we hide behind
eyes open to the world
staying alert to danger
our breath filtered just in case
we’re the enemy everyone’s looking for
our smiles are silenced
our glares turned to frowns
friends become strangers
we are all clowns
family and allies
our new kind of tribe
supporting our bubble
that’s both strong and fragile
this is the aftermath fallout
where beauty and ugliness
stand side by side
walking in unison
stride for stride

everyone wants to improve me
with self help videos
and pithy advice
on diet
exercise
mental health
wealth
meditation
10 reasons to own a cat
15 reasons why dog owners
are happier
5 books I must read
before I die (bit dramatic)
10 places to visit before my demise
I don't have time for perfection
envisage some great plan
for my own re-creation
don't really see what's wrong
being shabby
******* up
and writing **** poems

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

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 daughter wants a lift from work
she pays me with frangipanes and pasties
and tubes of sour cream Pringles
(half eaten)
my wife sleeps on the sofa
annoyed
I woke her to say I'm nicking her car
'cause the air con works
(mine doesn't)
dad is in the capable hands of the
undertaker
who are looking after him in the meantime
while I get documents and certificates
to say he died
but none say I was there
none say how much I hurt INSIDE
or how hard it is to pick up the keys
and give my own daughter
a lift home
(from round the corner)
as though it were any other day

Across an ocean
Across the world
A voice calls solemnly,
Asking of the murky waters
A reply

Half a world away, a sign
Comes down the ancient lines
A little faded by ships
Pipelines and submarines,
But still there

Like a faint whisper of hope
From the dawning of time
Very nearly from the grave
The voice of a mother
Calling to her child

Braving pollution
Harpoon and disease
The whale will swim,
For there is no voice as strong
As the voice of love

Calling you home.

a possibility the machine is broken
a pause, a stutter
a halt in locomotion
sometimes the parts wear out
not made for the harsh road
travelled
sometimes a weakness will shout
to demonstrate a need for slowing
but after all we've been through
to be betrayed
this far on the journey
I'd chop you in for a new one
if it weren't for the fact
I'm human

when we were young
everyday was an adventure
the farthest we could walk
the fastest we could run
ten minutes was a lifetime
when a lifetime was just begun

no guilt could outweigh us
no conscious could ***** us
sleeping blameless sleep
only our own dreams to keep
darkness hid no demons
because we had never met

but then the world moulded us
told us to be responsible
sensible, obedient, subservient
we could be whatever we wanted
if lines were towed, rules obeyed
it was our oyster to be enjoyed

but with clipped wings
we can never fly
the appearance of a freedom
we can never find

I wield this body like a weapon
crash test dummy on a suicide mission
all journey and no destination
pulling fuses while the car is in motion
bodywork beat up but engine still functions
travelled to the moon and back
in miles but not realization
put here on this torture track
an illusion of freedom mixed with
fear and excitement
the windshield has gone
and the seatbelt is broken

I'm glad there are
still mysteries
like the wind in the trees
to ancient beings
faith
rather than understanding
how unbearably smug
would the human race be
if we knew ******* EVERYTHING

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

he cuts the grass into stripes
annoyed that the fence
doesn't run parallel

he will sit with a beer
after a long day
watching the sunset
his OCD screaming
it's not symmetrical

it's all he will see
amidst this natural
beauty

they reported my passing on Facebook
all most people could manage
was a sad emoji

*******
as though still on the breast
mother nicotine brings her comfort
warm feelings of belonging,
coming home

just five minutes to **** myself
grabbing a moment from life
to lose it from the other end

not the courage for suicide
instead
dying by degrees

dancing with the darkness
I kid myself I live
on the edge
pushing the envelope

but I'm a sad sack
with yellow fingers
looking for an answer
as flimsy as the smoke
that pollutes my lungs

love is a fickle thing.

The piano in the corner is silent
Now Johnny’s gone, shot down over France
And the bar is so much quieter
After Toby died with some Fokker up his ****;
The reality of war has now hit us
The next scramble could be your last,
So let’s have one for the road, boys
Because outside its dark and its cold
The wind sounds hungry to take us
To places we’d rather not go.

The man we all know as “Red Leader”
A *******, but a ****** good laugh
Now dreams each night he is burning
His screams voicing all of our fears,
But we’ll still put a brave face on it
Stiff upper lip and all of that jazz,
Although it feels like we are waiting
For the very last call to arms;
But the bottle on the bar isn’t empty
And death still stands in the wings.

The drone of a “Doodlebug” overhead
On its way to London Town;
How much more can the poor buggers take
With another street blown to hell?
Today, I believe, is Good Friday
So let’s raise our glasses to a man
Who sacrificed life for all our sakes
As we may lose ours for our freedom:
But there’s still some feeling in my body
And time for a few glasses more.

A young kid, just arrived yesterday
Looks at these haggard faces in awe,
To him, this room is full of heroes
Not the ones who have so far survived;
Trained for half the time needed
He is willing to go to war
Only nineteen, but by this time tomorrow
He’ll have aged about ten years more.
So let’s drink to you, young fool
May you live to see a better day.

Coffee
Rich and dark
Slowly spinning in a white cup,
Therapeutic aromatherapy
Creating a warm feeling
Even sophisticated,
A smell that sells houses


Breakfast
Sizzling, crackling into life
Taste-buds still blurred
From the grogginess of sleep,
Bacon and eggs
Like Morecambe and Wise
An inseparable odd couple


Newspaper
Folded and re-folded
Onto an article of vague interest,
Words from another world
Unimaginable, war torn, desolate,
Colder than the rain-washed street
Outside this café window


Cigarette
The first of the day
Smouldering between yellowed
Fingers moulded to its shape,
Smoke slightly burning eyes
That are awakening to
Another fragment of life

I feel love trip on the stairs
carless footfall of a suicide damsel
I see love fail in comfy chairs
the silence of a Netflix series
I taste the end of what seems like
a lifetime of omelette Wednesdays
I hear love crackle with all the excuses
of working late phoned from pub car parks
it's faint call from the bedroom door
"are you coming up to bed soon love"
the click of the refrigerator door
***** of another cold one the psst
of a bottle opening giving it's solemn "no"

I wrote silence
it made more sense
than anything else
I could think of

The atheist walks
Past the supermarket
Seeing only shoppers,
Buying their daily bread
Earnt by working nights on security, or
Days serving zombied customers
At drive through takeaways
Getting abused, watching the litter
Pile up from don't give a toss
Attitudes diving immaculate cars,
He sees shattered dreams in the homeless
Begging to survive another day
In pavement poverty,
Preying on good will by sliding doors
In the rain,
Teenagers pushing prams, abandoned
To a cruel world of benefits and scams
Just to make ends meet,
Men wheeling six packs to their hatchbacks
Hoping they have enough *****
To block out another weekend
Of the wife moaning about never going out
And the grass needs cutting,
He smells the pollution of all the cars
Driven a few hundred yards
For a pack of cigarettes
And some dried noodles for the kids for lunch
Just to shut them up,
He sees only individuals
Railing against each other, falling
Over their directionless lives
All wanting to be somewhere, NOW.
He pushes past them all
Never looking up, never acknowledging
A single face, knowing his place
In the crowd.

But I see the woman who stops
In her nurses uniform
Tired from another 12 hour shift
Smiling at the beggar she drops him her change,
Takes her shopping to the car
Looking forward to a family meal together,
Waits for someone to pull out of their parking space
As she leaves for a humble home
Built on love,
I still see a light in the darkness.

I live my life
with the blindness of the sun
searing days with nuclear rays
burning, burning, everyone

Removed from paper inner sleeve
shiny black disc
catching light, rainbows across the groove
carefully placed on turntable's
spinning platter
to keep finger marks at bay
spinning, 33 1/3
snap, crackle, pop
the needle takes flight
leading in to
the rumble of bass
crash of high hat
singer's lyrical weavings
a density of sound
the smell of vinyl
a whiff of aging cardboard sleeve
artwork fit for a gallery

In nature
The colour black does not exist
Man himself invented it;
It pleased his eye
The density, its ability to swallow light,
Blacker than the blackest night
Darker than the darkest skin;
He made it evil
Made it sin
But always it attracted him,
The way it swallowed everything.

we never put lampshades
on all the lights in this house
I'm never sure if we meant
to stay or if we we're always
looking for a way out

A whisper
Caressing, touching
More than any flesh could touch.

A web, spun
Of the finest silk
Beautiful, but easily broken.

A gem
Shining bright, if only
It could be brought into the light.

A weapon
Atomic words
Mushrooming to cover a bright day

Then, fallout.

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.

the defeated man
sees the possibility
in grey skies
the hope of sunshine
cleansing rain
the defeated man appreciates
a moments silence
kept from useless words
empty promises
failure is a trophy worth winning
now life can begin
now it means something

Tattoo'd songstress,
Contralto vocals from a
Broken heart, Cohen's bird
On a wire, exalting freedom
All the while tied to intoxication,
Those who loved her
Wished her well, but she was
Pressgang'd, harassed
Until she finally flew away,
Leaving only that voice
Her Spirit trapped in a CD case.

Omnipresent
Voiceless, faceless  hatred
Unwillingly accepted
By data communication,
Even when you're not there
I feel you, words piercing
Through flesh, deeper
Than the love of family ties
Criticism, every little thing
Scrutinised.
I am left with one door open
Follow me if you dare.

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

I'll pay a ransom for my art
the ivory tower must release
the fair maiden
my muse
for freedom of expression

I want to draw
what is in my heart
cathartic pictures
screaming the pain I feel
but I have neither the talent
nor the ink to express
all the skulls I see
dancing in the subset

There is a voice that’s very clear
Talking to me on the verge of freedom
Its sound is warm and reassuring
Stating simple obvious facts
But danger lies within such sentiments
Fear and anger have no place
Like,
Walking on the cracks in the pavement.