we build a bridge
one brick at a time
that will hold our weight

so we can run into
each others arms again

you had so much clay
to mould into
the perfect shape of existence
why did you punish so many
on their road to Damascus

angels dance in the inferno
of creativity
untouched by it's heat
just illuminated in flame
while I stumble through
a forest
with trees I couldn't bring
to life on a page
but Blake in his divine
madness
saw angels in the branches

I'm going through a quiet patch
the voices have lost their urgency
turning to annoying whispers
sometimes they give me a line
and I ignore it, try to remember
then regret not writing it down
it's almost nice, the quiet
I still have the urge, but not
the spark to carry it out
like an old dog that lies
on the step in the sun dreaming
that once he could've herded sheep
but it's beyond him now
so dreaming is all he has left
but the sun is warm on his back
and there's always tomorrow

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

you can only have one
box of eggs she said
but we have to make omelettes
for five
well you just can't have them
she reiterated
now cashiers are making
culinary decisions in my household

everybody wants you dead
bad guy
villain
in every tale
told to children
looking under beds
for nightmares
disease ridden vermin
universally hated
no more than fifteen feet
from any Londoner
on the street
above sewers where little feet
scurry among excrement
waste from those above
what did you do
you furry little **** faced
******* to obtain the moniker
of the embodiment of all evil
looking almost cute
oversized mouse
who missed out
on the distribution
of love among creatures

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

We are the recorders of history
weirdos, winos forgotten souls
sideline shadows watching
for someone to fall, so we
can write a verse or two on tragedy
twist it out of our tormented minds
to show we care in our special way
but we do not change the world
for if there were no misery
we'd run out of material to write about

I see
the impermanence of it all
the stuff we can't take with us
that we hoard
in second hand shops
car boot sales
charity shop windows
end of childhood
end of relationships
end of fashion
the end of lives
set out for a new generation
to claim ownership of
who will buy my memories
when I'm gone

"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

my body is a temple
that has crumbled to the ground
my hands are not too delicate
and neither are my thoughts
my religion has been flawed
believing I am right
the only path to follow
into the darkest night
but there are embers in the ruins
that still burn even now
a fire I can't extinguish
it just won't go away
if you save one of God's creatures
you become one of his kind
so let me save your soul
so I can save my mind

work robs me of my life
without paying enough
to compensate
for the crime
I wasn't made for the
nine till five
corporate passion
is not my style
I'm for the weekends
the holidays
work to live
not the other way round
I want the time back
to sit and stare
for boredom
drinking
self indulgent dreams
never fulfilled

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

I have taken my daughter
back to where she now lives
but she still calls this space
home
a word that describes so much
more
than just four walls and a roof
this is love, this is sanctuary, this is
roots
as long as we exist on this earth
this will always be where you
belong

I follow the slow funeralistic parade
Too late to escape, warning came
On the radio, way past my last exit
I wonder who has died today?
Cars pass what were once shiny projectiles
Such as they, but are now soulless wrecks
Burnt out, like X-rays.


Who fell asleep at the wheel
Or made that last telephone call
That just couldn’t wait, while
Still chasing time in the fast lane,
To catch up with a schedule that now
Is as redundant as the chunk of metal
He was still trying to pay for.


Flashing lights mark the perimeter
Of some executive’s last stand
An accident? Perhaps, but maybe
Life just became that bit too quick
And caught up with him
An overdose of technology, leading to
A breakdown in human capacity.


We, the survivors, look on with grief
That could’ve been me! But not
Thankfully today, speeding on our way
Soon forgetting the graphic lesson
Someone gave their all to paint
But we have to look, just to see
If anyone has really died today.

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.

I have worn this shroud
For long enough;
The darkness of death
Has clipped my wings,
Weighing down pasty white flesh
Cold, prodding like fingers
Kneading, massaging skin
Into shivering numbness.


I would hibernate
Sleep until the warmth of spring
Brings life and colour again;
But I am not allowed escape
I must suffer a polar landscape
Inside nature’s fridge;
Live through this cleansing freeze
Dull and lifeless like the trees.

Said the girl who sleeps ‘till noon
Long past ****’s crow,
Through dawn’s chorus
Rush hour, breakfast news
Until the lengthening of shadows;
“You need to live a little”
On the edge, close to the perimeter
Blade of a knife, cutting life
Do the drugs, drink the alcohol
Put the time in, whenever you can
Then sleep ‘till noon
Long past ****’s crow,
Through dawn’s chorus
Rush hour, breakfast news
Until the lengthening of shadows;
Night is where it’s at
Out with vampires,
Following the werewolf’s howl
Where creatures of darkness prowl,
You don’t need light
Darkening skin and bleaching hair,
Ageing you beyond repair;
Here you can party
‘Till there’s nothing left to party for.

disposable breed
cogs in a big engine
they'll never know
the size of
infinitely replaceable
vending machine
of humanity
missed for a day
memory fades
with morning coffee
new recruits to train

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

I'm out here on the periphery
a ghost of a voice
barely heard
except in the extreme
of silent screams
if you listen carefully
you will feel my words
fill your silence
as tears start to fall
desperation creeps
to the top of the hall
by the stairs
to the bridge
dark water below
the rope tightening
before the chair fall
and thoughts of lights out
game over
do not pass go
flicker across a fragile mind
I am out here
on your periphery
I can break your fall

a sculptor
I chip away
making some form
from time
changing shape
then direction
sometimes the hero
others the villain
whatever it is
I leave behind
I know for sure
will never be finished

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.

depicted on her arm
hieroglyphs and pictorial charm
tattoo sleeve deep dive
into an ocean of everything
she finds so hard to relate
left hanging in the air
but don't question it
like the elephant in the room
move right on stranger
it's not speaking to you
there is a cult of believers
a religion based on trust
if you need to ask the reason
non-believer you are lost
in a garden that's a secret
that's already cast you out
you'll never know her freedom
it's a dish you just can't taste

rain illuminates
the pathway
by virtue of street lights
iridescent
in the vapour
past the drug dealers house
to the dark shadows
of conifers
whose outline hides
the shape of potential
muggers lying in wait
I watch through the arrow slit
of the bathroom transom window
of my fortress home
cleaning my teeth
while my ring doorbell's
paranoid cyclops eye
keeps vigil

I have built this temple
I have mounted this throne
made myself ruler
of a cold empty world
passed my own laws
that I flout everyday
for mine is the glory
of my special way
I have been left deprived
of love and affection
now I give myself
everything never left wanting
you can enter this realm
maybe sit yourself down
I need someone to polish
my oversized crown

*** is a journey taken by two people together
travelling to different destinations
not necessarily arriving at the same time

I am shadow
An unnoticed consequence of light
Tracing footsteps, oh so bright
They blind with their gift
Of brilliance, illuminating
Out shining those of my like.
They don’t want my darkness, my pain
It disturbs their spark with its melancholy,
They know me as soon as see me,
One worth kicking back into touch
Into the darkness of my mood,
Even though I mimic their form
I am un-appreciated, not the same.
Just a little love please, people
Without me you have no outline
Something to define you, give shape
Contrast against your heavenly form
You need me, I make you look good
Following so you can plunder every
Weakness I have.

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

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

She is moving away:
Not in any sense of going,
It is a spiritual thing
A space between us,
Like there has never been.
She sometimes looks at me
And I don’t recognise her at all
But still see how she once was,
Recounting stories of childhood
Which always starts a row.
For all this space between us
I feel she needs me more,
To bridge the gap that teenagers
Feel as they move away;
Not in any sense of going
It is a spiritual thing,
I must take the slack up
And see her as a woman.
But I can’t help always finding
That little girl inside,
And want to reach and hug her
Tell her everything’s alright.
But I am not supposed to do that,
Because the space is there
To prove she is a woman,
Who can survive without her dad.
If she keeps on moving
But not in any sense of going,
My spirit will be broken
And my heart full of such pain;
I love her as I always have
To me she hasn’t changed,
She’ll always be my little girl;
Here comes that row again.

I take the tray from her lap
evening over
blinds drawn to darkening skies
we have weathered
the fury of another day
she sleeps, and I will have to
wake her to go to bed
those rosy coloured dreams
when our bodies and minds
were young and naïve
have caved in to reality
travellers on an epic journey
we have survived so far
who knows what lies around
the next corner
for now I'm happy to do
the washing up
tomorrow can wait in the wings

even the dimmest light
on the darkest night
shines bright

I'll trudge
this shingle beach of a week
days hurting my feet
like stones
two steps forward
one back
I'll not be defeated
the weekend
we reach our pier
rides on the waltzer
roller coaster
ferris wheel
helter skelter
until it ends
waking on the shore again

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

Never had an object
Been imbued with such faith,
Spinning in the air
From rifled barrel, towards
It's target, aimed and released
To the freedom of atmosphere,
A short flight, where it was
Just a piece of metal
Until deadly intention was found out,
Sinking into warm flesh
Momentum gradually lost,
In skin and internal organs
To rest, job done
Inside a victim of circumstance.

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

we can never experience silence
our unquiet minds seek solace
in the noise of our creation
from the hum of the womb
around us as we grew
to the murmur of traffic
past our window
the rhythm of life plays
our tune
silence would be deafening
it would **** us all

We walk
In glow of silver screen,
We talk
In acronyms and SMS slang,
The star
Of an everyday movie
Camera man, script writer, director
Floating in the ether
Weaving our tapestries,
Between radio masts
Life on earth, live on earth
Spaceman, time traveller
On a voyage of discovery,
Walking and talking to ourselves
Without noticing the outside world,
Only interested in our own
Biographies;
Time for another selfie…………….

if ever you wondered what purgatory
looked like, it's here
whatever these poor ******* did
they have paid
in spades
here on forgotten streets
among the flotsam and jetsam
drifting
from the higher echelons of society
this is Skid Row
the lowest you can go
doorway to hell
Skid Row is everywhere

I see your inside outside
smiling at me
topography of your personality

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

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

I never felt a part of it
had a plan of how to spend
this gift of 24 hours
so if it's ok
I'll leave the curtains drawn
and sleep on into the afternoon
let me know
if this is likely to happen again

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

all I want is to do, do ,do
but I'd like to smell the roses too

you are venomous
I said
she smirked
and gave a little hiss
we are washed up
on snake island
a one bed flat
where a monstrous building
has been converted
into lamentable
living spaces
for lonesome souls à deux
neighbours plague us
through paper thin walls
but we have found our own
strange happiness
in our serpent coils

is like someone
holding your ******* eyes wide open
shining a torch into your brain
everything revealed
no shadows
dark corners
hiding places
disguises
pretences
bolt holes
you are who you are
and all you want to do
is come up and drop out
turn the light out

****** dropped bombs on him
It was nothing personal
There was just a war on
He came under the heading of enemy
Blew the ****** front door in
His mum got shot at by a Messerschmitt
In the middle of the street
So he had to do the shopping after
Its dangerous out there send the kid

Served his country in the Royal Fusiliers
Made it to sergeant teaching squaddies
How to read and do their sums
Posted to Germany as army of occupation
Did his bit as the saying goes
Then back on civvy street worked in the city
Steam train took him every day
From the market town where I was born
To smoke and smog and daily grind

Now I am teaching him the iPhone 6
At eighty seven he’s doing great
From a socially acceptable distance
Of course so we can keep in touch
Face to face and he won’t miss us
Now by himself rattling around
The big old house where I grew up
How times have changed
Still he should be used to queuing up