Sulking in old boots and smoking dry tobacco into ringlets of fug there is a beautiful untouchable riding my memory like slow waves. Free to ramble through all my day-to-day wonderings this wisp of a witch leaves hints of her passing arse and brushing breast but refuses to shed light on any corner or artifice?! She chooses instead to skulk around corners and tease from the dark hollows of her once incandescent beauty. I am weak and willing and glad of her smokey company. This mirage of memory kindles warmth in my cold dark thoughts. She is far removed from reality by time in my head and far more intimate with me now, even thru her clouds and footprints… evaporating each time I try to get close.


I’ve got this curly-whirly music
twisting through my brain

When I try and disembowel it
the tunes just run again

The time when I was happy, just
to hear it trickle through

Has gone away and left us
with the birds it up and flew

Lying in this crowded room
my shrouded mind lays dumb

If I try to lift my feelings now
my heart will only drum.

One More Song

One tiny verse
sung tight-lipped,
as it all gets worse.

Lost the bounce,
gave spring away –
Time tears at my eyes
and squeezes my day.

Thoughts pound my brain,
old thoughts; so sad
as still I clasp
at lives I’ve had.

Short painful routes
are all I see:
They scream my name
to recapture me.

Still the light dances
just out of my reach
so I follow the shadows
that lead from the beach.

Veto Tiger

In my dark night you snarl
with your elephantine memory.
Like a fox you sneak into my last thoughts
and tear at my heart

Please let me be.
Please slip by in the night and don’t come knocking.
But like the ticking hands of time
you call on me most regularly

As the gulf of days widen
between me and what you say you are,
The skillful play of my beleaguered senses
blurs and scuffs your edges…

Until at last, I can believe – in time –
that you got lost: Unable to claw a way through.
And there I can sleep and lose myself to dreams.
Free from your growls and echoes of snarls,
free to love again.

Song from the shops

and crazy airs-of-graces
Slew my love
so quick, to call her dead!
Culled so young
and cruelly filled with fluid…
Slid to death –
the slide was in her head.

Eastern Shores

On these eastern shores so dark and late at night
cold waves break over stones and wash them clean
Beneath the fat moon floating proud above the belching surf
A sinking ship of broken dreams slips quiet from the scene

Shortly as sun cracks its fiery whip on the day
and bathes this stony silence in sweet blue
Straggling at the waters edge the shadows of last night
worn and tired and wet this sunken crew.

Lowestoft Beach January 2015


clouds 2007Smoke curls gladly
through my iris
reflections in recess.
This is my first
I can’t let it happen
I shan’t let it happen
Easily said…

So my lungs numb
to music in my brains,
humdrum, passages.
And outside, somewhere,
someone else;
another one, is shot!

Impersonal formality.
I pay no heed to this atrocity…
Still my cigarettes burn
Still my minds yearn
Still I don’t earn…enough to smoke!!


Letting myself go
and I know –
though it’s slow –
that this dragging
will just keep on going.

Such hopes you could see
were the balance of me
and this dreaming
kept all my time busy.

Passing by: time, stopped to ask:
why I was still here?
Why I was the last?
I blinked, he looked tired
then he flew on…

So cringing alone
my old brain to bemoan.
Of the others?
They grew up,
then grew on.

Avenged Beast

Suffer in silence
insolent pig!
Grovel your sorrows
tragic cow!
Pray for forgiveness
wretched dog!
Show not contempt
pathetic beast!

When you were not so lowly
not cowering on the ground –
you spat upon my helpless corpse
I needed not your curses;
so when your dying starts to bite
how can you expect forgiveness?

Now you are going, insolent pig.
I know not where
tragic cow.
I will not watch wretched dog…
I do not care.
Pathetic beast.

takers rhyme

Someone takes it all
She knew
There’s someone takes it all
The sick heat of our
everywhere city-heads
crash against the wall

And in the broken bones
Of your crap dreams
Where cash has poisoned thoughts
And done-in trees
There are no wings
Nor cherubim’s

Giants of mirth ground down
She saw
Her giants of mirth ground down
Under weights of debts and pressure
So many ways to grind you down

Someone takes it all she knew
There’s someone takes it all
No floral wisps or sun rays
Dry her tears from this bleak floor

Who takes it all? Do you
Who stands fast taking
All the all?The liars robbing even bile
There’s always more to take
Take more

Bo Ditty

You cannot save this, we haven’t time
I don’t even know, the problem’s not mine
Bring your ideas to the panel enquiry
We’ll hunt a scapegoat and write a story

With not enough hours left in today
To possibly find a possible way
Our enigma’s lost in convoluted drama’s
We’re busier than Barrack Obama

Weighted down by the rush to push
Never quite close enough to close, leaves
A feeling of ambiguous feebleness
Far from any routes culminating at Trust

Each of us in all life’s stations
Knows there’s more that can never be known
Moments die to a beat so sinister
Being busier than Barrack Obama

And right behind you
In your warm footprint
Another soul flairs on a familiar sprint
Repeating, reflecting, what you half captured
Still busier than Barrack Obama


I rode, one day, in summer
to the house where she was found.
The lawn was high from growing;
tall grass hushed me all around.

Windows, light and open,
bade my wary body in,
and that door (once black and solid)
graced my entry with its grin.

On the well-bleached floor,
still stains of blood sang red and proud,
stenches rank and pungent
forced my lungs to whinge aloud.

Where the log fire once warmed
was now a pit of fears,
as I walked about that friendly room
I could not dam my tears.

Once bright curtains – long and green –
would soak salt spies away.
Alas no grown-up hand
would draw drapes from my eyes today.

I sat for minutes,
hearing every creak and squeak and drip,
whilst in my head the flood of thoughts
got all my brain to rip!

So as my new blood mixed with hers,
all gushing through my nose,
my last thoughts were of how we change –
how quick dead memory grows.

I left so slow and choked up
that I found a memory then,
and though I try and halt it,
still flows freely – from this pen.

Broads House

Bubbles and Ducks

The sun was cold
(a fresh wind thief stole all but light)
as she reached the freezing pond.
watching bubbles and frogs,
ducks and other birds – mindless
to the observations of a pretty girl.

No one here;
nobody to hear the still waters part and
feebly argue this alien entrant any room.
Nobody to see
a sad pile of clothes – abandoned, desolate,
left ashore – weeping for a body to wrap?
This body is wrapped in a garment complete.

And there is nobody,
by the pond.
Just bubbles and frogs,
ducks and other birds – mindless
to the vacant clothes and lost breath.

Black Holes

I see black holes
Great black holes everywhere
Stella spaces in the ozone
Gaping holes in the land
Black holes in our house each night
And those that death demands

Black holes
I see black holes
Big black holes around about
The black holes which you see through
Those to whisper from and shout
Black holes at the end of guns
Black holes to let shit out

I see black holes everywhere
I see them all around
The holes we open in the air
The ones we bury in the ground.

Harlot Nights

Once a lady laid her love on me –
spread it thick and luscious
round my heart.
Told my ears of sweet times spent
regarding me.
Kissed my lips she’d loved
right from the start.

Each day this new love grew up fast
around us.
Each entwined within each other’s stare.
Till one day I went to love my lover
as I woke I knew
she was not there.

Had I over-loved this girl who loved me?
Sweet and true, pure wrapping love
too fast.
Did I fall for one so live and sexy
while she loved me
she lived in her past.

So I did the right way I’d been taught to –
said goodbye although
my love’s not there.
Closed the door and walked along the roadside
so that tomorrow night
I will not care.


Cults of criminal violence breathe
Inhaling youth
Exhaling disease
Regularly stealing hopes and enjoyment
Cursing hard workers
And praising deceit

Where is your milkround, realm of the damned?
How do the misfits
Somehow find your band?
As the gravitas simply pulls all to your feet
only those like minded hardballs think freely!

At night when you’re busy
All calm and unwise
Don’t let my bleak torch
Burn truth in your eyes
Digital con’s, or pickpocket prizes
Broad as this country
You’ve no more surprises!

Lost only heart things
And not much there to start
Each day out to strike
May be one day your last.


My sore friend
His heart
It stuck in her throat
Sad day
She cried, he lied
He cried they tried
Poor sore pal
Lost hope
No dope
Got gal, oh how!
Drops fall
And rolling off sour cheeks
The tracks tears leave
Dry slow

Once more down

Once more down
As romance comes around
Where bad winds blow hard
Drowning poor dogs barks

Once more down
Only noises drown
No springs bring fresh rain
Cracking dried dead drains

Once more down
Violence is still grown
Fighting spills into streets
But even tears no longer weep


Singular Heart

Out of the reach of love
Standing clear of the paths that others dream of
How did you get so lost?
So far from warm hearts in this long frost
When worlds get close enough to touch
Your lonely tide draws all heat off

Here’s no blind old preacher
Crushed by the weight of a heart breached!
Just turning the other cheek
Keeping thoughts clear and pain out of reach

A rising chorus of lovers wail
for lost chance and misdirection
Somehow your drive is stuck on fail
When teased with a threat of emotion
And this shield that is fear’s
Some coarse protection

Unwilling to tempt a hope of union
So you stand clear of the
rough hewn path
And let those pass
Who promise what love desires…


Crowning walls of mass denial,
walls built in aggression
and felled in reprisal.
Quiet now relics standing –
few number though –
a presence held that’s whole commanding…

This vast domain
where the sun is in reign
where a single slow river
is all that’s not slain…

Tower Luxembourg 2015

A velvety cushion (for grass is the master)
encasing the body
that lasted the Blaster.
Now struggle-free captive
with no breath left to breathe
lies still while its mettle’s
lifted free on the breeze.

A buxom republic
that’s lost all its public
that’s empty and rustic
and awesome and tragic.