I see the world
through the lens
of another mans eyes
shared experience
shot at 1/500th
of a second
f8
rainforest at sunset
a whole knowledge
of technical skill
expressed in an image
I can walk into
grateful
to be a part of it

the weather has changed
storm clouds overhead
while wars rage across the land
men women and children
indiscriminately die
for the cause of peace
that no one seems to find
the weather has changed
battle carried to the skies
we fight our own environment
all of us on the losing side

"I cannot help you
with this publication"
it said
a closed door
a full stop
even an exclamation mark
you are swimming with the sharks
trying to run
with the wrong pack
basically you're a loser
your work just doesn't cut it
I recede back into
my protective shell of defeat
enclosing me
with the force field
of self denial and hate
here I am safe
nowhere to go but down
failure such an easy road
I travel with the crowd
all rejects of the elite
unwelcome in their kingdom
worse than unbelievers
we are the unbelieved in

I drink a perfect summer
fermented strawberry red
with a hint of liquorice aftertaste
from when the world was better
summers warmer and longer
and I wasn't even alive

At first you will love me
With an honesty and truth,
Before you learn to use me
And abuse my love for you.


After a while you will hate me
Everything I do will be wrong,
And no kind words will touch you
Or cure the ills I’ve caused.


Then one day you’ll meet me
As an equal in life,
And find you never beat me
Or turned my love from you.


When you become a parent
You’ll understand such love,
Given without condition
And more than you can tell.

I have worked out small talk

two people ask questions
of each other, neither
want an answer to
and without listening
to what the other comes up with
think of the next manoeuvre  
until they are locked
in meaningless conversation
that no one can break
like music, a symphony
of nonsense with the guy
on symbols waiting
to crash out at the end

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.

needle idling
leading in
taking flight
across the groove
crackling into life
unchanged since 1889
black disc spinning
revealing secrets
from the darkness of vinyl
rumble of base
crash of high hat
lyrical weavings
entwined around
a density of sound
unmatched by digital cleanliness
the smell of aging cardboard
with artwork
fit for a gallery

I gave my sadness to my cat
it fitted his deadpan face
and generally glum demeanour,
he had the personality for it
besides it made him cute,
and a massive hit with the ladies

of course, I couldn’t really
give my sadness to my cat
apart from it being really unfair,
on my best friend and only true
companion, it is ridiculous
to think that an animal is depressed,

though I am, even with his support
endless nights listening to my troubles
his expressionless face understanding
every word, he helps me of course
having to look after someone who relies
on you, makes you feel wanted,

useful, almost powerful in some ways
but after all he is just a cat, however
much I try to make him human,
did I tell you he talks, not really
I think I probably need a therapist
and he just needs to be a cat,

it’s what he does best after all.

Holidays are a falsehood we must endure
Lulling us into a sense of freedom that
We can never own, like the soldier from
His barracks or the prisoner his cell,
We are all afraid of our liberty, needing
Monotony in our lives to occupy the hours
Between waking and finally coming to rest
Again, yearning for the courage to escape
But lacking energy or initiative to act,
If ever our chains are cut we become unemployed
We lose our identity pulled down by responsibility
For rent, food, bills, our social commitments,
Turn tail and run, from the very door that
We are so afraid to open.

I lit a candle
to finally say goodbye
it felt better like a pill
had cured me
of all my anxieties
you burnt down the wax
like another life
one small light
in the cavernous space
of a church
no more room for blame
no more room for remorse
I've let go of the kite string
like I wish I'd let go of your apron
ties are cut
heaven awaits
I am at peace
and you are at rest

I have denied you during my life
Blasphemed like a docker or soldier
But I know in the end you'll be with me
As the Devil looks over my shoulder.

You make sense of words
that I cannot

you write phrases and synonyms
allegories and metaphors
that leave my heart empty
which makes you a poet
and I not

you are praised, applauded
eulogized, complemented
a voice of our times
though without rhyme
or reason in my eyes

you write to confuse me
to fool and bemuse me
but thats what makes you great
and I not.

I have bawled and shouted
stamped my feet
blamed God my mother
AND the universe
but I'm still here
spoilt petulant little spec
on a blue green planet
infinity never heard me
or gave a ****
about a small ape like creature
spinning around
and around
at a thousand miles an hour
going nowhere
it's time to take
the bitter little pill
and just get on with it

I found you between the covers
Laid bare before me,
A beginning a middle and an end
All there for me to discover,
On white sheets, in among the small print
Along with accompanying photographs
A catalogue if you will
In chronological order, unchangeable
As this is now a past event.

But these aren’t your words
There are quotes I’ll give you that,
But not an autobiography, this truth
Belongs to someone else’s twisted opinion
Through research and interviews with also
Rans, so where are you really, not here
Not raw emotion, frustration, devotion
No one saw inside your head, plucked
Your thoughts and put it down on paper.

Written after seeing the film of the same name, starring Robert De Niro.

I drive these lonely streets at night
Picking up shadows from under street lights
I'll take anyone, kooks, pushers, hookers
I'll travel any place, don't bother me
Not my business the hours these people keep.
The rain lashes down, blurring the bright lights
Like a watercolour painting, mixing, blending
Some day a great rain will come
And wash all the **** off the streets.

I feel inside me a change coming
Someone must somehow stop
The users and abusers of the innocent,
There must be one to make a stand.
I see young girls, fourteen or fifteen
Walking the sidewalk for the pleasure of creeps
Selling the dream of teenage ***;
What dreams do they have locked away
Washed into the gutter by the rain.

I see drug pushers selling people's lives
On the dream of a trip to the wild side
Everyone is trying to get out, escape
But the streets have a grip you cannot see,
You can buy a potion to get you high
But from this hell there is no easy exit.
Some come to this circus to trade
They need to live their life of lies
And I am the ferryman to the other side.

Some day a great rain will come
To wash away all of this ****,
Women will be able to walk safe, alone
Without looking over their shoulder;
I feel a change coming in me
I must be the one to make a stand,
These children of sin need a home
Somewhere to shelter from the storm,
Then maybe I can sleep nights again.

You pull me apart
Like petals from a flower,
Love me, love me not
Tearing at my very being,
Until my innards are exposed
For all the world to see,
But no beauty in my nakedness,
Just exposure
Of my anatomy.

problems problems problems
we all look for answers
in sunsets
songs
the smile of a stranger
alcohol
mind altering substances
the therapists bill
but it's just ******* life man
you can't expect to go
from sun up to sunset
cruising like a jet
you're bound to crash sometimes
you need to see the earth
as a friend
somewhere to land
spend some time
just staring at the sky
wishing you could fly again
and you will
when the thermals are right
to lift your spirit heavenward
but be careful what you wish for
the heavens are full
of shooting stars

I feel my phone vibrate
in my jeans pocket
even though it rests
in front of me on the desk
like a severed limb
can still itch

“Come in and sit down”
said the celluloid voice,
smooth as silk.
Cautiously I stepped
through the TV screen,
to take my place.


“I will show you a world”
it continued,
“That bears no relation
to what you consider as
REALITY.”


The air around electrified,
as the set was powered to life.


Beautiful bodies playing on a beach,
running into the foaming sea;
sun ripening skin, bleaching hair;
Then, from nowhere a can appears,
elixir of every surfer, sun worshipper.


Somewhere in the distance
a distinctive throaty roar,
the romantic throb of a Harley;
ridden by a pair of jeans
giving identity to,
some muscular male *****;
A dream of America
and freedom.


Slow moody blues solo
hangs in the air;
a guitar talking to a journeyman,
familiar but not remembered.
Every note sustained, holding breath,
then carried by a riff
from a bottle of bourbon.


Outside the set
beautiful bodies are burning up,
through a hole in the ozone.
(Too many limousines and Harleys)
The alcoholic looks on, wide eyed,
trying to see a way in,
really believing there is one.

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

they want to take my toys away
'cos I won't play the game their way
but they don't understand my vision
see through my eyes of contradiction
the gatekeepers have closed their realm
standing strong for what they believe in
I know they'll never let me pass
they have a hatred that's deep entrenched
I'll carry on regardless though
in my one man delusional show

Nothing sadder
Than calling for a mate no longer there,
Last of a kind
Singing into the darkness.

Ousted by the human race;
One small light extinguished in a universe
Of satellites and jet powered aircraft
Metalled roads and all night diners,
High rise living, where we even invade
The skies to get a better view
Of our formidable world,
Lighting us into our own oblivion.

So how do you grade
The importance of a creature,
Not particularly colourful
With a dull song, not very loud,
That no one will really miss as it shuffles
Off the stage of the world,
No great eulogy, no curtain call
Never an encore
To join poor Dodo in the glass cased
Museums of what we have destroyed.

she bought a new dress
made of boyfriend material
it confessed how desperate she was
hugging her nymph like figure
just begging for it
whatever 'it' is

We will come to you in the end
On our hands and knees,
To worship at the altar of nature.
When money has become worthless
Cars are chunks of useless rusting metal,
And all the technology in the world
Hasn't saved our sorry ***.

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.

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

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

I walked and watched the seasons change
Through the winter cold and rain,
My coat zipped up to my chin
Hands gloved with woolen mittens,
I saw my breath like steam escaping

I walked and watched the seasons change
Saw spring wave it’s magic wand,
Bringing life to trees and plants
A fantasia of riotous foliage and colour,
I felt alive, my stomach fluttered.

I walked and watched the seasons change
In summers warmth the spreading shade,
Gave welcome relief under treed avenue
Where I grew each day and never knew
I headed towards this present day.

To me now it's always autumn there
Along the road I knew so well
Colours fading into golden brown
The walk is over, the mystery gone
My winter of discontent will follow.

she comes to me

with her chemical haze
dulling my senses
warming my veins
clouding my mind
with her seductive ways

she comes to me
to take me away

we are all accomplices
the plate cannot lie
something murdered casually
so we can finely dine
oozing still the blood
that once coursed it's veins
a rare and gruesome pallet
enjoyed with chips and peas

yet we pet the dog
call him companion and friend
invited into the family
like a furry surrogate child
stroke the cat on our evening lap
cooing and talking
like they understand
they have the protection of PET

otherwise we'd be cuddling a snack

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

Virginal linen
Clean sheets that are washed of sin
Unsoiled by past loves

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

She waved to him
From the island of the sofa,
Surrounded by her magazines
Mobile phone screen ablaze
With her usual social media,
Attention on her mind
He, headphones on was in the zone,
So many times the trance
Had been broken,
Inner world invaded by trivialities,
Today he just turned his head away
He had balanced the perfect mix
Between beer buzz and musical bliss,
This time he was going deep
Diving, fish like into sonic waters
A Pink Floyd sea of euphoric escape
This time, she was just going to have to wait
Until he broke surface again.

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

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.

the blind is broken
on the back door
where I try the handle
maybe one two three four
times before bed
my foot treads
wear a furrow
into carpet pile
patrolling by the mile
a circuit I navigate
from door to window
and back again
checking checking
my doorbell's camera eye
spies on the street outside
intruder alerts on my phone
warn of incoming......
something
all so I can complete
a nights sleep
with one ear open
tossing turning
I have covered all eventualities
except the Bogeyman
in my head
under the bed

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

where Hollywood's celluloid dream
is reflected off silver screen
into the consciousness
of audience's expectations
sitting
in amphitheatre auditoriums
amid
whispered conversations
plot revelations
spoiler alert
sweet packet crinkle
coke slurp
popcorn rustle
where held hands
make promises breached
bases reached
love declared
for a fumble on a back seat
childhoods spent
getting out from under
grownups feet
the good guys won
the bad guys wore black
where a thousand shots fired
nobody died
in the end
aching legs brought to life
to leave with
a head full of stories
unrelated to real life

I can hear the noise of the world, always
In my ears, like the sea never leaves the shell,
No matter how far travelled by a beachcomber
Who takes their souvenir home.
No matter how far I roam, the world follows up
It’s chaotic tone, voices shouting, ringing phones,
Cars with car horns rushing to be late
Somewhere they really don’t want to go.
Fools, vagabonds, gypsies, businessmen, wives
Police and thieves, cannot escape the gravitational
Drag of the world on their destiny.
I can hear the swish of their existence in my sleep
It never leaves me, like the restless tide it creeps.

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

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

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.

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.

slowly I process them
like tracks on a record
giving nature a helping hand
to enhance the music of light
and as I sit and look at them
they sing to me of memories
of Welsh hills lit by God
brought home as a moment
I can play over and over
until they become the soundtrack
that always makes me feel
I'm alive

Like a bird against a window
I am convinced paradise lies beyond reflection
through  this force field

constantly chasing your shadow
I believe it guides me where I want to go
though it feints movement to fool me sometimes

I have bashed my brains out on false promises
and shadows are only after all
human shaped darkness

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

I have a theory
that when the world ends
for mankind
all that will be left
on a piece of wasteland
is a Coke machine
still lit
it will sum us up
perfectly

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.