tonight I am a poet
but that could just be
the drink talking

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

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 witness the cruelty
I feel the beauty
what hurts me is
I'll never know
if you see it too
I hope you understand
how much I miss you
a life stolen from us
by the everyday events
that separate the way
we want to go
it feels as though we steal
the daylight we share sometimes
an almost guilty pleasure
not something we should
have a right to

her mind is chaos
thought after thought
chase each other around
a brain that never rests
half finished jobs
lie strewn across a kitchen
table where we cannot eat
and if she's lost something
watch out, better to let
the hurricane settle, for
storm winds to blow
themselves out than
disturb a train of memory
I have books and cd's
in alphabetical order
love the peace of our fish
swimming in their tanks
I am the eye where calm
persists and she sometimes
visits to rest her brain
I have learnt that love can
conquer so many differences
and this little ship we sail
has never threatened to sink yet

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

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

loneliness
is a misunderstanding
of what together is
a feeling we need someone
to complete us
in truth
people are a pain
in the ****

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

no sunset tonight
clouds cover the grand parade
of the dyeing of the light
today will end with a whisper
not a shout
we will not notice the passing
of a time we won't remember
to forget
no tears of sorrow or laughter
or regret
nothing exciting ever seems  
to happen on a Wednesday

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

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

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

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

unparalleled views across town
from fourth floor windows
taking in the changing autumn landscape
(an estate agent's *******)
the quiet room where moments
are spent contemplating a life ending
visitors wondering will you be here
for their return in the morning
but you survived your Armageddon
against all medical expectation
tenacious old man
a shadow of who you used to be
with a whisper of a future

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

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

I held the door open
for the man who let me in
but he decided to stay
and grace us with his presence
for at least a while longer
a chance
to get to know who is
inside the armour
a putting down of the shield
hidden behind for so long
even after great personal loss
he gripped my hand
with affection rather than
hanging on for dear life
and every time I leave him
alone in his hospital bed
I feel a slice of the great loss
I very nearly experienced

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

it's late August
the roads are still quiet
while a workforce
bronze in European sun
and children
sleep till noon on seemingly
endless summer holidays
staving off the winter blues
just around the corner
with Christmas decorations
already in the shops
the big push to do it all again
bigger and better than last year
is on
but today I am content
in this moment
almost
just almost
happy to drive to work

I want to lose so much weight
even my own phone won't recognise me

Henry Moore, the sculptor
has in his kitchen an original
Picasso
on the wall above the fridge
so every time he made a cuppa
he was reminded of his friend
not a fancy canvas in a frame
but a drawing on A4 sketch pad page
you can imagine the pair of them
discussing art and Henry giving
some small token to Pablo
of his work
and saying you know you should
paint some blue cows
it'll be good for you
you can invent the Emperor's new clothes
as often as you want
if you're a genius
and they would laugh over a glass
of whisky
Pablo went on to give life, of sorts
to his blue cows
oh, and I used to deliver whisky
to Henry Moore's house

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.

this is a poor mans heaven
rooms lit by a golden glow
as the sun shines for a moment
to illuminate it's kingdom
before dipping behind a horizon
where only memories can light
the way to a promised land
it is fleeting moments like this
that feed my soul and elevate me
spiritually to a kind of epiphany
the same sun man has worshipped
since his beginning of time

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

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

he forgot how to human
all the competition drained from him
sitting at the lights
in the midst of blaring horns
the gateway open
go green
go green
no one caring that HE'd broken down
looking at an event horizon
drawing him from the crowd

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

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

a rocky place to call home
metaphorically speaking
by the side of a road
among the detritus of motorists
thrown from car windows
as was he, just a core
from an apple in an unfinished
lunch box eaten on the way home
that somehow germinated
I call him, him because
it makes me comfortable
to give gender and character
build up some sort of empathy
in the winter a sad skeleton
silhouette against a slate sky
bur every spring blossoming
to produce apples for the birds
where no human would dare
wander unless broken down
I admire the consistency
of nature and the hope it brings

a knot of traffic
unravels
to reveal.... nothing
no reason for delay
no great drama
just
too many people
in too many cars
in one place
at one time
wanting to be in front
all more important
than everybody else

he tripped through the streets
towards home
still light of foot
under the LED lights
but another unsuccessful hunt
meant he'd be hungry tonight
perhaps he knew it was
the last time
familiar sounds and smells
preying on his mind
tonight he'd sleep
under the stars outside
curled up to keep warm
on a mild spring night

I found him under a conifer
still in a fetal curve
some time later
nature had taken it's course
his brush was still there
and some of a thick red coat
but the putrid smell told me
he had chosen my garden
to take his last breath
and I was honoured
to give him the burial
he deserved

they are in the grass
beneath my feet
their fear distilled
into the trees
where the leaves
dance as their banners
and flags once did
in the cool breeze
a river of red where
they bled their last breath
now flows clear
no winners or losers here
the lush green foliage
tells the story of how
it is fertilised
by the bodies of men
who lost their lives
centuries ago
I can still feel them
in the landscape
they have grown

he said he had a bad back
(the front wasn't too hot either!)
playing for my sympathy
looking for a pity party
trying to be the bigger man
struggling on through
the storm of pain

I hurt every day
because I'm supposed to
it's how I know I'm still alive
I didn't tell him
he might've cried

if you want to find me
I am slightly left of centre
at the back, a different colour
more drab, grey even
quite unnoticeable
an extra in a street scene
there to make the numbers up
a voice in a choir drowned out
by those around me
probably mouthing the words
half remembered
a shadow on a sunlit street
where everyone is having
a good time, or on the beach
sitting staring out to sea
no small talk, not even hello

my mind is shooting
gathering experience
like tracer fire
target secured

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'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

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

a door opened with one magic word
and a world appeared
my secret garden
trees, grass, sky
but they were mine and I understood them
they understood me
it all made sense
the other side from where I came
was madness
everybody else's madness
but I know now how to deal
with the hostile world
I've hidden in for so long
like a spy, an interloper
mirroring how to behave
just to survive
I have somewhere to go
where I am at last home

it's not that I'm antisocial
that I want to be alone
or friends are an intrusion
to my fragile state of mind
it's just that I'm protecting you
from the madness behind
my eyes

if you can look at a cat
but not see a creature
that is both cute
and cunning
a hunter
and a scavenger
loyal yet with a pure sense
of it's own self importance
you're not ready
for people yet

tongues tied inside our mouths
eyes closed to the endorphin rush
from sensations of feel and touch
as we explore the possibilities
of just how far we want to go

tongues tied inside our mouths
from intimacy to strangers now
separated by fear and trust
the spell is broken magic dispelled
what's been seen can't be forgotten

when I first tried it
on the world
it was a loud incomprehensible
yell
but they came running
pandering to my every need
though sleep deprived and ragged
I was the centre of their life
but as I grew they stopped listening
despite the advancement
of language skills
I became dismissed
an irritant
so it got quieter
reduced to a whisper

they take my blood for their machines
to analyse
the very heart of me
laid bare to scrutiny

a diagnosis
of an ill I never realised
I needed a prescription for
just to survive
so nice of them
to save my life
but I feel fine

someday I'd like to sit
in my armchair
by the window
bathed with sunlight
book open at a portal
to drift off into storyland
like Alice
down the rabbit hole

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

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

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

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

flowers by the roadside
tell their tale
all things must end
prematurely sometimes
you move on to enjoy your day
a little lighter
a little brighter
sometime
it will be your flowers
your story
but not yet
now is time to celebrate life