Incubus Drive
is when me and the neighbours fall out
it's not just the volume
furniture moving bass
but I have to sing
full shout
I know all the words
you see
cos I played it
so many ******* times
it's ingrained on my beer brain
all my inhibitions
blown out
I'm on stage
in front of the microphone
air guitar
I'm no Brandon Boyd
but by Christ I'm on fire tonight

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

Our fragile souls
Mere wisps
Trapped in aging shells
That one day will no longer hold
Substance
Released, where do we go,
To dance among the stars in heaven
Take our place in it's mantle
With the constellations,
Or do we disappear as though
We never existed, mere dust
To blow across the earth
And never settle,
Reincarnated perhaps
To right the wrongs of previous
Existence.

When the night is long
And sleep evades me
I wonder
What fate awaits me.

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

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.

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.

I wish I still smoked
**** yeah
It's the ritual
the need to make time
to die a little
opening a new pack
shiny cellophane
the lid flipped back
paper seal for freshness
pulled out to reveal
20 happy moments spent
inhaling, coughing, thinking
the soft packets
where you flicked the
cigarettes out like movie
stars and the Marlboro man
who are all dead now
roll ups, kit form bronchitis
liquorice flavour papers
combining childhood flavours
with adult life takers
the smell clinging to clothes
and hair dragon breath
but we all looked so ****** cool
so adult so grown up
so ****** clueless, *******
on our manly pacifiers
I wish I still smoked
**** yeah
just don't have the courage
some how

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

You are so cold
My breath steams

Wraith
Come to haunt my soul

Goosebumped skin

Peripheral vision
Glimpses your true form

Though you hide among the shadows
Behind lies and laughter
That cackles.

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

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 never know how long
you have them for

experiencing a loss
so close to home
so recently
every visit becomes precious
an event on it's own

trying to make sense
of a life already spent
while trying to paint a future
of alone

and I wonder if
it will ever be me
waiting for a phone to ring
someone to call round
for tea

I sit with my dad
in a house full of dreams
that perhaps
were never fulfilled
for either him or me

Your muse sits on the draining board
Swinging her legs like a child
A quizzical look on her face
As you make yourself a coffee
Eyes follow you round the room,
You haven't spoken in a while

Pen and paper lay where you left them
Since the last time you were inspired
Writing words to shake the world
Simile and metaphor straight from your
Soul, but even though she whispers, nudges
And cajoles, you continue to ignore her

There are other poets in the world
Screaming out for inspiration
Begging for the right word to guide them
Bring them to the ****** of creation
Don't leave the door too long open
She may slip away without you noticing.