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.

there are no beds
so they are contacting
God
to see if there is a vacancy
but it looks like
not even that entity
wants you yet

I have seen them,
lost among the rows of Marble and Granite
quietly whispering conversations
left too late in life

tears flooding from ducts
that spontaneously leak with sorrow
emotion they have no control of
bursting from deep within

they lay flowers
and sometimes trinkets, imagining
somewhere
the person they are talking to
is watching over them

last weekend it was my turn
for the first time, laying my offering of roses
though I didn't know what to say
except,
"Happy birthday Mum"

I became hard
not like a man
but like a stone
impenetrable
camouflaged
a pebble on
the beach
able to blend
in with all the
other pebbles
and let the tide
wash over me

a hard man doesn't need to shout
threaten or front it out
a hard man can crack an egg
without breaking the yolk

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

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

We dip our toe into life's pool
and watch the ripples
affect the lives of those around us
hoping not to offend
but fit in, without too much disturbance

we may even walk a little way off shore
considering ourselves brave
to have come this far

but there are those who
regardless of how cold the water may be
will plunge head first, screaming
into the blue

I watch them, jealously
hesitating in the shallows.

she giggled and said
let’s play hide and seek
it’ll be fun

she ran off to hide
in her books and her friends
her job and Saturday nights out
soaps on tv box set marathons
long protracted telephone conversations
with her mother

I looked for her at breakfast
while busy running for the bus
home late I failed to detect
the warm glow of a relationship
cooling along with my dinner
eaten alone in cold isolation

one day we bumped into each other
in the hall dodging from side to side
we could not shake
an encounter that had to happen
sometime in a one bedroom house

she looked well though older
a few laughter lines
on her face I’d not made
around eyes that no longer smiled
for me
she giggled and said
found you at last

but sadly too late

Inside this scaled down life
We move like goldfish
The pretence of an ocean
In four small rooms.
So many other lives swim
Within the same space
One upon another
Surrounded by the din
Of each other and the world
Passing by.


Is it any wonder
We have become insane
Looking for ways out
Expression through graffiti
Escape through drugs
Destroying the symmetry
Of our own environment
To mimic the bounty of nature
Destroying each other, for peace
And a chance to sleep alone.

they are selling sunshine
on these ***** streets
offering escape
at bus stops
beyond the ride home
with hoarding speak
dreams, new worlds
new life, new you
away from this ****** existence
we all perceive
step into
the advertiser's dream

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

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

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

we put on our road face
grill mask to intimidate
motorway warriors
"make way, make way"
weaving in and out of lanes
twin exhausts show our power
important tints
"you can't see me now"
travelling in the same direction
to all our different destinations
individuals on our journeys
through time and space
this is the human race

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 ***.

He gives her the butterfly as an act of beautification
Hoping nature can exemplify his feelings; A fragile life,
Balanced between death and existence in his fingers
Making sense of all the nonsense in his head.
He gives her the flowers in an act of affection
Even though they both know they are dead,
Only water prolonging the inevitable demise
Of colourful blooms returning to the earth
From where they once grew, like their love
Beautiful under the sun, natural and charming,
Until you told them that love is shown with silver
And gold, diamonds and pearls, chocolate and cards
High octane fast cars, exclusive meals in top restaurants
Theatre tickets and front row concerts, but the butterfly
***** it’s wings and somewhere in the world,
There is a hurricane.

I'm listening to records
not heard for thirty years
I've carried this collection
gathering dust on my shelves
needle scrapes across vinyl
music to my ears
an old friend not seen
for a while, but it
feels like yesterday
my kids look on in awe
even with their MP4
as I spin the black circle
I'll make collectors of them all
and I'm not old just retro
and it's still rock 'n' roll

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

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.

everywhere I go
there is time
on my computer
via internet
on the radio marked
hour by hour
by DJ’s with nothing better
to do than spin three minute tunes
on my alarm clock
on all the clocks
in all the rooms in my house
on the cooker
in my car
on my phone
time is everywhere
except with me
sometimes I have to escape
and forget it exists
slowly and quietly
eroding my life
marking my days
sometimes I just want to be late
as though it doesn’t matter
and nobody minds

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

I will watch forests grow and fall
see the seas rise and swallow countries
the sun dim into a minor star
be able to take a return trip to Mars
witness the folly of man squabbling
like infants, fighting in the dirt of life
while knowing what infinity is
though I'll never see an end to it

I shall become alone, afraid of love
see my children born and bury them
watch the loves of so many lifetimes
wither into old age and die leaving
me heartbroken knowing I can never
follow them into the darkness
death and I will sit and talk about old times
and all the moments he has stolen from me.

you always buy a ticket
got to be in it to win it
life is a lottery
a game of chance loss or gain
betting on a horse that’s lame
always loaded to the dealer’s hand

wake up
wake up

from the dream
tomorrow is another day
because you see it that way
the moment is now
never before lived
the place may be familiar
but take in the landscape

forgive yourself the pain
bad decisions flawed refrain
your future is here and now
step through the door
take a bow

We have spoken many times today
Unheard,
We have touched a thousand memories
Without words;
I can be with you anywhere
We have been, or yearn to go;
You fit,
Like the cliched jigsaw piece
I was born without,
Not just my other half
Another part of my life.
Friend, lover, soul mate
No matter where
No matter what,
You are always in my thoughts.

I enter what I can only describe
as a waking dream
staring into the future
I see him, a hint of recognition
around his eyes
grey hair, no,  more silver
like the light has brought it
alive
far wiser than me
more forgiving
I realise that for all
my chasing
hunting the sunbeam
it has always been there
in the landscape, captured
by my photographic obsession
it never left me
I have always been a part of that light
and my future self
has been struck
ignited
like a lightening bolt

put this in the old thought engine
to mince
what if this isn't the right pen
the perfect paper
a location worthy
of provocation

a lie all this time
when somewhere there is truth
I thought already found
interlaced in these words
that eludes me
and I've never had the gumption
to look

content to carry on
a thought pattern
already designed
a mind set
already plundered

a hard cold fact
that chills me to the marrow

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

as I left the theatre
she held the door open for me
the hint of a smile on lip-sticked lips
slipping into her leather jacket
to combat the cold night air
leaving an intoxicating trace of perfume
I'm just a face in the crowd
that she never noticed or will remember
" cheers " and an attempted smile
as we interacted for the only time
in our lives, but I miss her
she stole my lust
and a youth I never had

******* on a can of beer
I'm sure the answer's in here somewhere
diversion of my mind map
fools illusion, mirage'd secret
a child again
stupidly laughing
at the stupidest of things

I could conquer the universe
just as long as this bubble
remains unburst

my body starts to question though
just how far I'm prepared
to go
beyond the veil
beyond the pale
the edge of insanity
a dance with the devil

crash comes through
outer atmosphere
splashdown
of this spaceship
in a sea of pain and fear
what did I do last night
dare I answer that texted phone

people are still dying
the war is not yet over
the enemy is invisible
from which we all take cover
doors they are no barrier
no defense and little comfort
our adversary could be with us
sitting on the sofa

sat on a park bench at noon
he dressed early charity shop
other people had already made
his fashion decisions for him
cast aside like they cast aside
his son, his visits less and less
frequent now, his name is
uttered as a mere whisper
except in anger and in war
he has less strength than when
faith supported his mental health
shouted from the fortress pulpit,
blending in on the seedy side
of life where the real people are
when asked about the second
coming, he said I gave you all
free will and look what you did
tell me, would you send your
only son to a God forsaken
place like this AGAIN.

I have finally found you
In St. Enodoc Church;
Home is where your heart rests
Not your place of birth.
Summoned by the three o’clock bell
A pilgrim across the eleventh fairway,
Towards a crooked spire that protrudes
Like a drowning swimmer,
Signalling to be rescued from the dunes.


As I enter through the gate
Your headstone greets me with a shout;
A marvel of the stonemason’s art
Explosive script from marbles cold darkness,
Radiates your humour and warmth.
I am not humbled, sad nor afraid
This place is fitting to rest your phrase;
Looking down at where you lie
I try to imagine that lived-in face.


Archibald lies at your head
Old and trusted, faithful ted;
So much heard, but nothing said
All through the years of pressured steps,
To follow where your father led;
But you had other plans and instead
Were drawn to words with rhythmic thread,
That made you Poet Lauriat, a knight
Who finally has found some peace.

Speed king

Stolen car
Tyre scream
Rush, adrenalin

Forget cops,
Don’t stop
In flight
Across night

Take your fill
Ride the thrill
Like a wave
Surfing on danger
Pushing limits
Better than any pill

Evidence
Cauterized
Charred remains
In the countryside

Someone’s pride and joy
Will be announced dead
On a doorstep
In the morning.

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

on the sofa
binging on bargain bucket box set series
and copious volumes of alcohol
warm in our shared delusion
that the end of the week
requires celebration

butterfly
in the killing jar
made object
made art
preserved perverse pleasure
collected
displayed as though
some great master
to prove the beauty of nature
pushed one more step
into extinction
pretty colours are there
for camouflage
from idiots/predators
to keep the bounty of nature
outdoors
for everyone
to enjoy

I have danced the dance of this flame
Been lit in my own despair,
But my shadow put me to shame
A beacon that found me in a darkness,
I thought no light could penetrate
Shared my anguished heart,
Then stole my love away.

I have read the story of a life
Lived on the edge of existence,
Let down so much by those
Professing only love and acceptance;
I know that the end is the end
For history tells me so,
This is the end, my beautiful friend

And the darkness envelopes you.

Kurt Cobain has died again
Whoever reads must live this pain,
The truth has helped to shed some light
But Curt Cobain must die tonight.
Last chapter by my bedside lamp
And I live again with the consequence.

Member of the 27 club, too young to die
Too fast to live, only lent to us
A break in the clouds that let some light in,
Original flash of inspiration jumping
From my radio to shout, music isn't dead
Too soon to leave us only wanting more

A train to the big city
Where the pavements are of gold
A job, a life, a future

A cardboard box in no-man’s land.

Why do they come? Refugees
From their own poverty
Here to share in ours.

There’s a boy in oblivion over there
A needle in his arm
And **** in his hair;
Sold to the dream of another world
Not here.

Some walk the streets you know
Teenagers, offering their bodies
Hoping to save their souls;
Pawning dignity for a take-away,
**** in sin city
For the rich and gay.

There is no gold here, you fools
Under the same sky you sleep
On the same wish you weep
Crying yourselves to sleep
Counting lambs to the slaughter.

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

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

Sly looks and sly smiles
Sly remarks on points of style
A little slip, a little quip
And you could be the **** of it

Laughing behind hands, they stand
At the corner of the bar
Each victim carefully selected
Each remark perfectly directed
A ***** of a time
A little jealousy, a little crush
A little misplaced love and trust
You can almost feel the knife stab
And as you go down, they laugh

Sly looks and sly smiles
Behind each others back as well
Laughing behind hands
Looking out for trusting friends

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

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!

It fell from my lips
like a curse

death of truth

betrayal of trust

leaving a bad taste
that with time
would grow worse

feeding upon itself

it always does.

the screen is shattered
the fourth wall crumbled
a brave new world
we have to be part of
lost in a sea of brands
wants and needs
that give us identity
blurred lines between
reality and dreams
they have us and we don't
even know, sleep walking
into their life show

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

I love lighthouses;
Lonely, desolate, cold
Grown out of rocky outcrops
Designed by monolithic architects,
Where only ascetic souls can call home
Their light, a beacon in the darkness
To protect sailors from the smouldering sea,
And all her whiles and trickery
One lonely light, that shines out
Like faith, like hope, like love
So mariners will not plot a course
Into the shallow depths of death,
Book a room in Davy Jones’ Locker.