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

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

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

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.

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.

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!

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

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

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 hid here
among the words we write
expressing ourselves
anonymously
using synonyms
similes adjectives
verbs nouns
to voice our fragility
our vulnerability
and self-doubt
implanted by years
of subjugation
intimidation
manipulation
bullied
into self-loathing
self-harm
even suicidal thoughts
well here we are
come find us
I challenge you to a duel
your intellect
against mine

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

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

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

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 scream at the demons
pushing over indiscriminate objects
tripping me through clear doorways
knocking things from my feeble hands
laughing constantly in my head
like evil clowns

we don't share saliva anymore
tongues fighting in a mouth arena
we don't lie in our sweat anymore
our battle won ****** achieved
we don't stare those stares anymore
the ones that look into the soul

I know you and you know me
is that the end of the story
or is there more to tell

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

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.

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.

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

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 saw the fear in his eyes
of defeats endured through childhood
bruises inflicted by a fathers rage
although now faded
cigarette burns under tattoo ink
hidden but never forgotten
he was mean when he was drunk
no particular sin apart from existence
I almost forgave him
the black eye and broken nose

I write lines that are sublime
I write lines that aren't mine
words are written on the page
by my hand but not my mind

an inconsequential lyric
battles an annoyingly catchy tune
and I'm reminded of you
this was our song baby
three minutes of tortuous
heartbreak memory stew
this actually used to make me smile
before memories shelved
come tumbling down
like tomes from a bookcase
we built with our glue
that couldn't even keep us together
I was never honest with you baby
I only ever liked rock n' roll

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"

There is a girl
With flaming red hair
And tattoos that talk to me
As I follow them inside her shirt,
Everything about her screams
Look at me, look at me!
So I do
Then she creeps into my head
And undresses.

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

she is nice because
of some new desire
making him drinks
a nice lunch...

he's made her tea
in bed every morning
for years, simply
out of love for her

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

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 watch him eating his dinner
while he digests
it devours him from the inside
the unwelcome guest
they sit together to watch tv
every programme chosen to forget
what no one wants to talk about
the unwelcome guest
he never knew when it moved in
but we're way beyond eviction
they will share that armchair
for the rest of their lives

I love you ferociously
With the anger of protection
The heart of a lion
The soul of a unicorn
Indulged your every fantasy
Secrets kept between you and me.

one day son
all this will be yours
I give you the sea
for sunsets and meditation

"but you have plundered the waves
and made a desert of water."

I give you the sky to fly
spread your wings to foreign climes
discover a world of antiquity

"but you polluted the clouds
left vapour trails across the blue
perfect mantle claiming
conquest of the heavens"

I give you the earth
to travel freely and discover
it's beauty and marvels

"the earth is my home
where I thought I was safe
but a poison chalice
is all you can pass
to my parched lips
to quench a thirst for life
already taken from me"

"I am the most precious thing you have??"

"I thought you loved me beyond
the moon, the stars, the sea
the earth, beyond mortal life"

"but it seems you only loved yourself"

not a word written
not a word uttered
thoughts stream
like traffic on the motorway
so many journeys
so many destinations
not even sure
if they all make it
Sunday fades into a sunset
Monday looms with it's onset
nothing to do but wait
a perfect moment passed
a perfect moment lost
darkness descends
this will be no more

opinions and thoughts die
like unwanted infants in the womb
beautiful but doomed
never to see the light of life
shunned by a world
looking the other way
I feel sad, I really do
for never knowing the truth
lies perpetuated by a cruel world
always knowing better
than those under fire
better
than true desire
politicians oligarchs
self inserted gods
in their houses of cards
time for us to rise and shine
a velvet revolution
from the velvet underground

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.

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

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.

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.

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.

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

it's not about the melody
it's all about the energy
if your ears aren't ringing
the decibels aren't delivering
you have to play it
LOUD
to reach the individual
in the crowd
this is more than just music
it is a life choice
to fit in
belong
to a family
a brotherhood
only each other
understand

I lie on the bed
trying to read Bukowski
resting my head on the headboard
which is stupid because
just below is a pile of sumptuous pillows
my cat comes purring
like a V8 ticking over
settling on my chest
he wants love and attention
and I have a kind of affinity with him
abandoned by his mother as a kitten
mine stopped loving me
when she found out I wasn’t the girl she wanted
and had a *****
and a disgusting boy’s brain
so I stroke him
wondering how it feels
to have someone run your hand
down your body continuously
never really having been hugged
two broken souls
from two different worlds
give each other something
of what is missing in their lives
even the pain of a wooden headboard
is bearable
more bearable than never being loved

2am
listening to the song of the gnat
as I sit having a crap
book in hand
I always read here
since I had small children
the only place I got any peace

the song stops
I can feel the itch
tiny legs massaging skin
looking for a way in

more people killed than are alive today

quite a reputation for one so small
we always called them gnats
never mosquitos
the gnat sounded more diminutive
less of a threat
but as it turns out
they are connected through
their Latin name, Culicidae  

so I wonder about malaria
how it's coming back to our shores
as I finish the paperwork
and hear the song resume
disturbing it's evening meal

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.

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

The shiny blade cuts
Running with the blood of the forest
We must have trees for books
To pass on knowledge
And political ethics.

So we destroy the world
Telling everybody how bad it is
To destroy the world.

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

Out of place
In a displaced world,
There is a frailty in your touch
A dampness in your kiss
Childlike gestures belie your years
Alice through the Looking Glass
An ****** dream, beset with innocence
Lost many years ago
You are out of your face
In this displaced world
Whirling around my head, spinning
Sliding down the stairs
Laughing at the silliest things
All I want to do
Is *******.