Saturday, 31 December 2011

(I Am A) Half Empty Cliché

as we kiss goodbye
to a powder bruised sky
bid adieu to this
year of denials
stand fast and true
with strength renewed
and prepare for yet
further trials

Friday, 30 December 2011


vivid crimson moth
pinned opened by tongue of I

butterfly hovers
over full bloom ring-a-rose
until the rain falls

Thursday, 29 December 2011

Drawing Out

so the solstice passed
can you feel the days lengthen
no neither can I

Nothing New

now the crows set
upon on my face
and libido
oiled laughter
a haven, there for them
to procreate

now becomes assured
my place
in the chain
of natural fools
where your
candied floss lies
cast aside
adorned with my
sour dripped jewels

now this ragged dog
ambition hid
hairy eyes
revives the
and dons the devil’s
delicious disguise

Tuesday, 27 December 2011

After The Dance

wallowing in a post
yuletide fug
that assured stink
of contentment
served in slices
barrel gutted
sweet pain of excess
with loosened belt
and bulging dresses
where furniture shrinks
before your eyes
from your body full grown
a couple of sizes
shared observational
grunts and toots
while the idiots lantern
in the corner
casts its hypnotic pall
over conversation
till one by one
the drift begins
into a snuffling
roll eyed
noxious hebetude

Monday, 26 December 2011

Constant Companion

56 hundred hertz
no coded morse remission
messageless is this
tinned whistle

inexorable hiss
but if no lip stirred
air quivers
tympanic wafer

then what internal currents
pulse and roll to
incite this phantom
cicada strain

Friday, 23 December 2011

Menelaus and Agamemnon

Joe’s stone deco boys
eighty more years here we’ve sat
roaring less and less

Thursday, 22 December 2011


petrol bruised tarmac
like weekend misadventures
revealed by the day


smutted thumbprint
upon this eye
sooty gauzed ocular hood
not cloud enough
to eclipse the clarion
rabbit orbed shock
around and found
despised clown
bloodied fireflies
twitch and prick
the middle gloom
livid hackers
who colour my tracks
these notes mere extracts
no exact
from fearful iridium
retinal flashback

Wednesday, 21 December 2011

Humbug – In Jubilo

on the hate-th
day before Christmas
began the phoney war
with the normal
on hiatus
came that inertia
I abhor

Tuesday, 20 December 2011

Given A Chance

some might call this
an act of desertion
but I expect
with a little sweet coercion
we could swing this round
and write another version
though while it may smack
some of desperation
and it can never return
to that perfect union
there might just be chance
to shore up the undone
footings of that we
once proudly belonged


when I spoke
those words
you have to know
I was only yokelling
it was all for show
a colloquial jokester
delivering cheap schlock
I didn’t expect
such dislocating shock

Monday, 19 December 2011


that facet professed
obmutescent as sunlight
you should practice now

Saturday, 17 December 2011


snout deep
cracked badger’s
honey kink
snake in‘n’ baking
‘n’ shaken sac
whip crack a flay
the way
you wear those
ankles so well
that far back

a la mode
cherry high
pie and cream
no sweet
reluctance of
bristling itch
eye screwed
incontinent twitch
from mondo
hush-pushed niche

Friday, 16 December 2011

Winter Down

bread stuffed, puffed and fluffed
downy quackers coast over
somnambulant trout

while algid weir
tumbles chattertoothed over
this burgs glopped muddle

and oscine carols
burst jocund sweet notes through a
hawkish hiemal spit

Thursday, 15 December 2011


as I explode
into that ecstasy
which bedevils
the lonely
I would that those seeds
could ride invisible currents,
sustained aloft
to the plush shores
of your abiding Amritan

Perchance To Die? (Redux)

does a garden dream in winter?

can it garland itself
in balmy memories
or does it quiver
in a febrile cold sweat

in its frigid pall
with deadly fingers
around its throat

unsure if this time
it will awaken
in a springtime
phoenix resurrection

or remain entombed
in a solid,
sodden mire
of clod and dreck

Today I drove past fields of wind turbines, not coping with the winter at all (Redux)

Those lordly giants
may bestride the fields
but typhoon arms,
are now forced to yield

by such ironic air
that petrifying blast
of Boreas’ stare

turbines becalmed and dumb
skulk shamefaced
under a glacial sun

A Blast of Wind (Redux)

anthracite quilled
this atramentous
flight of storm surfers
hang ten
clear from grasping
wooden claws,
vaunt atop an invisible buttress
hurly burlied
leaf and
twig and
before alighting
high cabled staves,
ebony notes waiting
to be played

Wednesday, 14 December 2011

The Last Breakfast

it is said that garlic
is good for the heart
but served with stake
in the graveyard dawn
it will thwart all those plans
of eternal return

Tuesday, 13 December 2011

Fuck Karma

were that I as sinful
as the visitations
seem to mitigate
or that I’d had as much fun
as the punishments
would blindly dictate


that call
unknown number
of a stranger
crackle cold
arctic night-time
winter cold

“there’s been an accident…”


keen three tone spoiler
digital prod which forsakes
honeyed qarînah


the page needed turning
my hand between her legs
scorned a classical warning
that girl got an untamed
grit in her eye
the proper reflection
of an unalterable sky

Sunday, 11 December 2011


flic flac

you have me sat here


where dreams run

flic flac

so speak to me now

what shall you say?

all that you must

flic flac

but waste

no brackish

sorrow over me

flic flac

do not

short change

your sweet heart

flic flac

flic flac

Complimental Drift

sometimes it is dry
as if stepped back
to 1975
from a village nestled
valley side
on chapel outing
itchy backed coach ride

sometimes it’s effusive
all ‘77 punk bluster
arrogant abusive
yet coherent in
its narrative
with arguments
seductively persuasive

nowtimes though it’s coasting
mired post millennial dankness
grey verse in a drizzling
where my petty ego
sits bleating
and I’m convinced
she just can’t be listening


this pregnant sensation
begets a total suspension
of new word gestation

and I, born of conflict,
morals now trafficked
and principles kicked
like a gutter down addict

yes it’s christmas time
rotgut and woodbine
so comes the killing time
for my cogitative rhyme

Saturday, 10 December 2011


this file is corrupt
and witches clamp binds my tongue
to impotent verse

Thursday, 8 December 2011


ruffed violet bruised eyes
wincing in the cyclones wake
mask a gibbous loon

Wednesday, 7 December 2011

The Crystallophone In You

your body could
like fine cut crystal,
as smooth digital
orbits roam around moistened
like china of bone
finger flicked
with a sonorous
as seraphim armonica
such dewy friction
studied devotion
of tactile affection
music for
the soul coaxed from
dipping dripped droplets
to harmonious pitch
so much sweeter than

Monday, 5 December 2011

Did I?

that thief,
foul despoiler,
chanced in the dying hour
left no opportunity for

five hundred miles
might well have been
when that arresting call

no mind how swift
my progress cross
land sea or air all chance
to bid farewell

naught then but to
tear and howl
obscenity heaven bound
while dirty tears

strained grimace
could not recall
whether spoken
“I love you” was

that hateful day
we left before
you were gone
forever lost

Terror Incognito

when each clock in the house
one hand at a time
not by dumb luck
but by cryptic
comes fear
of the kind you can taste
through your ears
pestilent worm
bitten of it’s own
spiteful fang
yet still it crawls
crushing your lungs

Saturday, 3 December 2011

Grimm und Grimmer

could there
ever have been
aught but harm
from such shrew whipped
an abusive storm

where it
lead through
the corpse grass
crumbed trail
of bloodied path

stumbled upon
weather torn
enduring pile
chimney stacked
nefarious smile

that leering
single tooth
like fabled hag
who feast on youth

sat silent
now this
sated quietus
belies a violence
strewn before us

as kaolin
dry flurried
bear vestigal token
to fancied grillings

Pants on Fire

I make things up
when I write
just tiny stories
by a misheard sound
or fugacious sight

Friday, 2 December 2011


one bee
from final frigid flight
I brought it in
to warm its tiny
venous wings
and to my surprise
it did revive
now what am I
supposed to do
with this buzzy guest
the winter through?

First Chill

through limpid darkness
in thrall of a quarter share
of silver dollar
there unwary flesh
feels the first
capillary bursting bite
from this opening night
of Jokul Frosti’s
freshest advance

Thursday, 1 December 2011

The Dark Matters

that wise bard once quoth
“more things in heaven and earth”
never words truer


seventeen percent
what horror lies hid in that
lost four score and three


those tricks of the night
need more fearful attention
with chances so high


inscrutable dark
nature in majority
one day ascendant


perhaps already
mere specimen tank keening
through a darkened glass

Wednesday, 30 November 2011

Shoulder Pork Ham

one click
flavoured russian cum asian
first though herbal
fruitful extension
such friendship
one clit-k sensation
new phone
who phone
whore moan
fear & gear
solutions are here
with 1 or more I
sinful maybe

Tuesday, 29 November 2011


November’s last splash
wet whipped backhand across face
such stinging rebuke

Fucking Fuck (careful I say fuck a lot)

fucking write it
twelve feet fucking
write it
so the fuckers
sting like grit
in the fucking eye
just write the fuckers
somewhere anywhere
write it in the fucking sky
just make it seen
every fucking where

Monday, 28 November 2011


the malfeasance
is to swallow
easy plaudits
parochial praise
dutifully held peer
nearest words to those
wished to hear

such a cost in
air expired
bemired captive
plunge naked
into the wake of
intellectual diaspora

brain drained
long fled
spoon fed
red topped reali-tv
could be you scratchery
be low
be common
be not

we aren’t listening
we don’t
factor out the X
oh we do so miss
our puppetry
what do you
count for
sweet self
ghetto confinement

Sunday, 27 November 2011


nearer the bottom
you realise the less it
may hurt if you jump

Saturday, 26 November 2011


dreams may never lie
they do
most often die
through this conceit
with demeanour
fell and thick of skin
vitreous exposure
of egg shelled heart
makes unendurable
a trail where
once held hands
truth abjured
in withered heresy

Something For The Weekend

Olympic sized
black synaptic massage
diced sliced
blood moulded
bloomed red vine
in thermal distress
golden bounty of
Albion's fields
beaten baked reheated
unfulfilled fowl spitting
in rendered seed bed
feathered fungi popping
butter sweet
with daddie’s dulcet dark
duvet drenching
1/57th of Mr Heinz
pressed sunshine
borrowed from the south
oh yes
English fullness my friend
come join me

Plus Ça Change

reality shifts
minute by minute
as a shadow
in the suns ardent remit

Friday, 25 November 2011

Bottoms Up

this tawny coolness
tock tick toxic keen as the
sharpest dissection

Thursday, 24 November 2011

Oh I Don't Like To Be...

under the gaze
of murderers moon
dirty towns
that insult the sea,
such that she
hides away for
the longest part
of everyday,
waft a
pheromone laced
lambent neon entrapment
urging dirty moths
lay out their silver
spill briny, tinny vitality
amidst vomitous gore
over what dignity

Salus Carnotense

come captain, sail,
crystal hulled atop our deepest cartography
observe and then fashion a fable
palatable enough to lay at the family table

though do it, I beg, as if mute
with such a silent eloquence
that mouth’s no questions of consequence
instead try reading  the captions

unmask the tension etched deep in the fabric
the text amid the creases burned through the years
of caustic neglect
then, good captain, draft us a new chart

warn us, where be dragons and terra incognita lie,
navigate these doldrums that we may yet be saved

Monday, 21 November 2011


our unshackled hearts
are easily lost
as they wander
in a haphazard dance of
bewildered wonder

Sunday, 20 November 2011

You Should Try It

I dig to eat
some days
of late
it’s my only guarantee
of food on a table
once amply laden

31.0°N 64.0°E (Then On To The Next)

breaking the neck of speed
rent splintered from
bluffed zonal comfort
whole organs
now foreclosed
allusion to
mere scraps
of bloody conclusions
for history’s reckoning

Just The One

and one asked
“are you OK?”
that one said
“do you wanna play
or would you rather me
stay away?”
and they
I daresay
have their own slavering
demons to slay
but regardless gave
and that kindness
will be repaid

Just Do It

break this glass
carve the nouns across my chest:
liar / cheat / whore
let your cigarettes burn
adjectives upon my limbs
delinquent / base / vile
aim (v) that verb
and plant (v)
your boot in my face
for all it is worth
an imprint
so much more than I

F(b)ook It

fickle and faithless as it is
all forsaken I heed the
cobalt headed siren
expectant each time I enter
buoyed by latest world proclamation
often only to be met by tumblweed dry
oppressive quiet the chorus to my

Saturday, 19 November 2011

Before The Fact

nights like these
when you recoil from my touch
revulsion scored deep
excuse dog-eared
primed ready to go
at page 53
I fear that I will
never again enjoy
the needful tender embrace
of a woman
while I am sill able
to offer back
anything less than chaste
and in some
lugubrious future
if taken to task
about some transgression past
you accusatory “why?”
will need one simple reply
“do you really need to ask?”

Raw Candy

despite the allure
and if I’m to be forthright
the water tested
when the truth is told
I’m only here to fuck with
your beautiful minds…
…except for you

Friday, 18 November 2011

None So Blind

I did not see you there

onion eyed panda
tight in the corner
with your full proof cohort
sucking on the empty vapour

I did not see you there

cold in crumpled sheets
counting the winning lies
harsh knee clenched pillow
lying in spinning divides

I did not see you there

mired in absinthian
spectred familial grief
reconditioning the same
hackneyed lost motif

I did not see you there

I did not see you

I did not see
I stopped looking

Thursday, 17 November 2011


on this or some
velvet morning
wild bulls
couldn’t drag me
from this tragic queen
where dreams
are writ in tangerine
my guilty orbit
around her brightness
one seven, seven one
more or less
but doomed bee my role
in this timeless tragedy
welcome cursed death
dragged swift by the sea

I Don’t Like These Re-Runs

smoked and ghosted
dismembered remembrance
through chemical ordnance
just the discard dog ends
of a long vanished audience

oh! sorry!
I forgot
you never do
each day afresh
new penalty due

Aujourd'hui Pas Amour

today is one of those
hate you days
when all you say
is full of bile
every bark and growl
cruel and vile
yes today
I really
fucking hate you

Vin de Moule

from you
I shall
for you I will
redolent will be your answer
bedroom wine
fresh flowing
pressed fruit twixt
thumb and four fingers
from fleshly vine
enmeshed embrace
your vessel tapped
will be my bounty
sop soused and sodden
a happy sot
infused by
osmotic transfer
flesh through flesh
jism through plasm

We (View)

she will play fuck
and she understands
that some days I look
but I will make no demands

Wednesday, 16 November 2011


I am not damaged
but a wasted soul
whipped and ridden
I’ve taken it all

beyond mere stoic
and self control
rolled every punch
shit duly swallowed

like weathered oak
all storm withstood
stolid but inside
not understood

the depth & breadth
of sad consumption
consequence of
eternal presumption

not mourning having
missed those boats
put it all down to
one long bad misquote

I am hollowed rock
that must endure
the shifting sands
on exposed shore

All Ears

to my nakedness
do you not hear
come closer
tighter sweet
let me whisper it
in your ear
can you not discern
my heart
other than fear
breath that shortens
and quickens
once our intentions
are clear
you hear it ?
come join
and we’ll spear
the night
as I descry
your nakedness

Tuesday, 15 November 2011

Just How Grey Is Today?

a battleship sky peppers my
ashen eyes
summer’s sombre tombstone,
oyster grit scratched, granite
elegy lain over smoky pyre

rising as dingy dove soon to be naught
but cinereal ash
all life seems blanched
by grisly lividity pallid,
 heather powdered,
to abrogate all hue and tincture

where the gaudy fusillade
of fall’s chromaticity?
such the capitulation
to leaden neutrality

drab iron clad
slate dust dusk
where even mouse
can stand as vivid array
in this dullest
day of greys

Kitty Say Feed Me

each step
draws a bow wave
into which leap
pileous dolphins
riding the wake

dancing below
my every stride
furled around
my naked feet

constant villous squadron
remora fearless
tangled trampled underfoot

talk about love
though I’m sure
the only variety
is cupboard

If You’re Listening

I could sing of the moon
or write of the sea
but how would those morphemes
acquaint you with me?

that I sleep with the sky
or dream of fishes?
though not one disclosed word
of my broken wishes

so I loose those voices
inside my head
that I shouldn’t inhabit
and share their dread


pluck the light from the eyes
of those who feign closeness
cripple their thoughts and
render them wordless

then I’ll tell you of me
without flowered allegory
but with words that cut true
not just one more hard fuck story

Monday, 14 November 2011


the circling black
signposts ahead
rummage sale
for nebs and peckers
tossing and tugging
through the years discard
a golden litter
in death still giving
though some escaped
that bargain barrow
settled on pathway
in swathes of yellow
but now stamped as
transient fossil
printed ghost
of shallow relief
atop their concrete host
not burned there
by a sleepy sun
but made shadow by
a perishing fusion
and ex comrades
green and scoffing
still hang and taunt
don’t heed dry rusting
that signals seasons
fast decline
and their coming fall
on winters line

On Hearing The First…

pig from elsewhere
beating the bush
screaming the ream
in the wrong nest
working a sweat
cooking cooking

cuckold cold
if you tolerate this
repeat repeat
compete or die
gotta try harder

Sunday, 13 November 2011

Not Like One

vagabond beneath
from high
lookee me lookee me
and I look
but don’t see
and they call
lookee me lookee me
talking to me
lookee me lookee me
what urgency
and I can hear
what they need
of me
so tackled tree
branches and bark
painful sharp
lookee me lookee me
climb climb
still the call
through foliole
and parting bract
what I see what I see
branch upon branch
like me like me
and I sit and I set
and exult from on high
lookee me lookee me

Prancing Horse

nah !!!
comfortable ride
but can show
a remarkable turn
of speed
and great control
around curves

It's Where I'm From

it were looking black
but Bill’s mother
coulnt see it
cos it were ovva er
and she’d only scrait
if she could
an I worrent wi’er
any road
she were wi erssen
not summat I were
proud of
but I were puddled
from the ale
and that page owl
I pulled last nate
were reet
up ma street
she larruped hersen
all ovva me
mi duck
am tatered now
but I’ll chuck mi claarts on
and you can gimme a croggie
up road
so she wont be so mardy

Remaining Unconvinced

this passage
never taken
hedonic ingress yet
that such deep surrender
coud ever be so sweet
to allow the most
intimate of plunder

Saturday, 12 November 2011


c’mon sweetness lets
tessellate our bodies mould
our geometry
like nested tables
slot ourselves neatly away
in captivus lock
it is a dangerous table
at which to feed
but such
sticky fingered
I’m not ready to leave

End Games

no more now
than filament leaf,
skeletal relief
too long
suffocated under water

Friday, 11 November 2011

tinker tamk tank

iced around boards
inbound honey
thooid howl
and thyestean vigour
what depth
your thymopathy?
no timoneer able
to correct this tiller
and at the tinchel’s mercy
any wonder
become tiqueur
no safe tmema
can tolypeutine
tonlet rescue
for my heart’s
tonus quiet
reliant topomancy
a torporific

any of the above may do

hear poet
harken scribe
your heart dealt
living welts
ring hollow
audience rapt
and trapped
word tied
world wise

Thursday, 10 November 2011

Try Harder

I consider myself
a petty poet
I think
therefore I lie
I drink
one day I’ll die
I love
most days I sigh
I stink
at much I try

Keep It Up Boi

in my lungs
fuck no
one more
two lungs should
one lung
pine in da hood
no its good
hit me up
just a small one
say when
cold dawn

don’t stop till
you get
fucked up


so hard
stringing together
stopped turning
liar layered
dried and listless


what’s under my skin
is such a wonderful thing
so glad you made it


threw beauty
across my path
“thank you”
I said
“but was it
looking for me?”

and beautiful
a warm
and wordy
and a little bit bawdy

then lightning bolt
that moment
startling candour
surely not
cross dressing
tax inspector?

thank goodness no!
but facts disclosed
might find ugly
belonging in
the deepest core

Wednesday, 9 November 2011

30.5 (for two voices)

give me your foot nylon net webbed
take my foot
and arches divine
a sensory trail to meridien mines
my thumbed impulsion rolls a gentle heat
your thumbs yes gentle
to such somatic implosion my hands
your hands your hands
explore your shapely ankle

yes further
yes, yes further!
five painted rosebuds across the way
five more patient
silken suspension bathed fresh
and oiled for my attention
your attention only yours
or take in your hands
let me take you into my hands
another solution?
another solution!

Get Out

I hold no god
there is
no measure
of my sin

how then
do I feel
an evil
deep within?


gilt stitches
by androids
the guilt
sanguine sap
in cheating
with last words
too late
as always

Tuesday, 8 November 2011

Lay Down Thine Pen

painting pictures
without words
I would be
a happy mute


painted myself
not forgetting
on my fuzzy ass
that I might
stand a chance
of fooling those
soft coral folds
to permit
my probing search
for a candied hit
proboscis divining
pestal deep
waggle dance
albeit briefly
stigma gripping
six legs tease
a song from
my burgeoning host
on a musky breeze

Monday, 7 November 2011

Eating Out

could I interest you in the menu sir
why you silly girl
that’s what I’m here for
good good
our starter consists of clarity
I see
I see
and next?
an entrée made from honesty
generosity and just a little flattery
but for dessert can I tempt you
with the sweetest lies
no no
a little cheese if you please
coffee at mine?
don’t mind if I do

Our Eyes Scales

the dead keep dying
plus hi-definition
truth remains hidden
a long held
British tradition
the sum of all these tears
our happy outrage
dispensed through
a brutality
we’ve always revered

Diminishing Trend

I can think of a favourite
way I’d like to wear you
beloved friend
but that might burn a bridge
we could never mend

would happily die a death
by a thousand paper cuts
as I searched for the right words
to say sorry
devoted friend

but don’t pretend
this didn’t hurt a little
behave like your heart
isn’t quite that brittle
my troubled friend

Long Haul

no, I don’t miss you like I used to
after so long what did you expect
but it doesn’t mean I don’t love you
anymore, or any less



and with this sigh the light

just got bored
of explanation
so with that act of exhalation
lookee here y’all
the revelation
that your gods
they all got tired
from waiting
went off to ventures
more exciting
looked through the glass
in bitter reflection
“in our own image?
what were we thinking”

Sunday, 6 November 2011

Deceive Yourself

I am sometimes convinced
that their attention is more
than ephemeral

that in spite of all the ego
there is something stops the passage
of the cerebral

in a fog, that
licentious abandon prevents
honest meeting

of souls that belong
caught dovetailed through
real belonging

but then I wake up
in the dusk of my reality
asking who am I fooling?

Animals Watching Fireworks

a llama wandered out
to, maybe, look at he moon
“holy shit!
the sky is consumed”
so he rushed and he gathered
his reindeer companions
and they came and they looked
really just to indulge him
but replied
“you’re not wrong mate,
it’s a bit of a state
now pass me a corn cob,
some butter and those shades”

You Don’t Know Jack (as well as me)

me and Jackie D
we’re gonna spend some
time together
take a walk
down the road called

feel I’m all about the
throb and hum
causal diarist of
this humdrum
persistence of existence
with little resistance

yet I want to fly
with that caramel magpie
for marshmallows
from a wyverns eye
even raise a glass
in the devils hallows,
but I’ll let you know
how badly that all goes

and while you're all
for me to emerge
with another flat stanza
or dirigible dirge
clink the ice in your glass
and have one on me
and wish me throb-speed
through this mashed odyssey

Saturday, 5 November 2011

I’ll Remember Remember This Fifth of November

lazy day waking
with a morning wasting
channel surfing
create and crafting
but the afternoon comes
and with it the fun?
so we’ve ridden the iron buffalo
braved the flumes chilling spray
ah yes, this is England
where we come out to play
when its wet and its windy
and its cold and it’s grey
where it’s got to be shouted
though there’s nothing to say
through the nicotine nurture
send the kids on their way
then retreat inside to squared four corners
flying finger thumb traces
there’ no local engagement for
these blue reflected faces
but we’re everyone waiting
for the burning main event
of dragon guarded pyre
one more night of Guido’s torment
and what a conflagration
would have done King Jimbo proud
peeling off the reddened flesh
of us closest in the crowd
the guardian wyrms
they dont last long
fall crashing
in a crackling song
and confused smoky ducks
dodge the fiery sprites
launched skyward
into the not so black night
ill defined blooms
in the distance, smudges
light distorted by this
inferno’s searing vapours

then to our left to our right
it seems all around
trees of light blossom
to a delayed resound
serpents and flower heads
stuff the sky full
to the oohs and the aahs
of this field full of people
and as is always the case
it is over to soon
and in gold embered showers
we’re all headed home
where sausage and onions
slow cooking all day
steeped in hot gravy
are awaiting their fate

Capitol Attraction

Lundonia Raga
itinerant girl
fight the urge
of that vagrant call
stop for a while
come out to play
and know this welcome
you could never outstay

from out of the blue
came your timeless aura
but I’ve known you forever
my anam cara
but like foundling kitten
left at my door
your ragamuffin spark
brought me so much more

the sweetest flicker
of your attention
springloads my step
(and much more
I daren’t mention)
and I’d like you
in my life forever
though I know one day
despite best endeavours

I shall watch your reflection
fade from my sight
and I know my dejection
will dessicate and swipe
a vital sap and
the leaves from my heart
but every winters end
must have spring for its start

Friday, 4 November 2011


a man
flawed and flesh
neither all that I wish
or all which I should
of wizened wood
but I am

Thursday, 3 November 2011


still have 17 years
left to repent
of my 25 to life
should have
chosen to rent

Fuck You

so incredibly deep
is where
you’d like to keep
your head
in the sand
forever asleep
or up
your own ass
you self centred creep

La Chaleur

my my my
kitties got it bad
kitty got her tail up
kitty yowls so sad
kitty rolls around the stairs
kitty wants to show you
kitty wants to share her wares
kitty is a cougar
poor poor kitty

Wednesday, 2 November 2011


imma let my words go
with a natural flow
less rhyme and no reasoning
but with a little extra seasoning


staring stock still
on that bridge over
such dirty depths
I ponder could
I take that last step

my body to be
splintered & shattered
in a final flesh strimming
ecstasy of
dreadful oblivion

Tuesday, 1 November 2011


I dreamed last night
cold sweated an immersive fancy

imagined time was solid
built of countless basalt blocks
but here and now was fluid
not governed by mortal clocks

my yesterdays became today
right after my tomorrows
and life ran on a different track
no set causeway to follow

and all my being occurred at once
right then or now or is maybe just about
to flow between the cracks
and cast reality into doubt

Monday, 31 October 2011

Sunday, 30 October 2011


I don’t share
because I care
I share
from a despair
that I need
to fill me
and spread
is maybe
less likely
to kill me
so you really
need to beware
of your dealings
with me and
my sweet talking
poisonous wares


that dress may hang for
eternity and a day
before I let go
and the
grim armoire recoils
at every mortal effort
to steal it’s treasure
not one of these four
walls can forget her fragrance
as they bleed her scent
who everyone loved
remembered even by the
rooms through which she moved

Saturday, 29 October 2011

What's Your Excuse?

no comfort here and
we’re fresh out of strangers
till death us do part
or something else rearranges
how did it arrive
so frigid and profound
life’s frightened excuse
for just hanging around

It's Not About You

I drink as much as I need
to breathe
I think as much as I need
to please
no one else

This Is Why I Dont Keep Friends

you know how it is
out loud
and worrying
if I might be allowed
about the cloistered confines
the self celebratory
that circle jerk of the
cozy community
seeking out faint praise
for an awakening
dimly phased
so it's
a poets imperative
to turn their acerbic glass
upon themselves and ask
and I’ll take that prerogative
and once I have found
my “because”
I will push for my
limitless sky
I might struggle to find
the how
the where
the when
but be damn sure
I’ll be spitting
hot hornets
until my then

My Exquisite Corpse

one hundred years from today
will my spirit dismay
shadowy guardian of generations
who somehow didn’t happen
lonely wraith walking
through blackened ash garden
or as honourable spectre
revered and respected
content in a bloodline
vigorous and sublime

Friday, 28 October 2011

Telling Tales

its good to tell a story
something far removed from truth
as baring your soul in a hundred words
can bring those chickens home to roost

Wednesday, 26 October 2011

What You Get

I try to write my words
and I know they sometimes come out
but I’m writing how I’m feeling so
can you not see
that to couch them any differently
simply wouldn’t be me


I swam naked in France
a few years ago,
La Plage du Verger,
part nudist beach, yeah, I know

but I did it at the end
where you shouldn’t show
the part where you’re told
to keep it clothed

but I’m not so brazen
as to let it all swing
sunkissed and salty
swaying in the wind

no, grant me some degree
of British reserve
don’t brush me with a reputation
I don’t deserve

I waited till the ocean
had me firmly in her grip
before I let the speedos
triumphantly slip

and so there I was in freefall
all hands pointing south
when it slowly dawned on me
there’s things down there with mouths

who might take a shine
to morsels dangling in their reach
so the trunks were swiftly re-engaged
and I raced back to the beach


startled by a peeping sun,
sky and earth revealed undone
leap apart with shamed abruptness
forlorn lovers interrupted

Tuesday, 25 October 2011

We Were Expendable

no more rush for the factory gates
or bleary welcomes after whistle led race
no longer the shouts of “what shift you on mate?”
and befuddled replies “earlies, no, lates!”
the comforting throng of familial mass
at the end of each day that held no disgrace
when a days hard work meant a days earned pay
something they somehow forgot to replace
as our livelihoods fled eastwards to cheaper climes
and our citadels of labour fell rotting, debased

Monday, 24 October 2011

What's In A Name

born of sun and lion
I was griffin
protector of divine

but golden youngster
turned to sand
abrasive and malign

Wake Up

I don’t like sleeping
feel like I’m being cheated
half my days stolen

Words Blend

with such singular
vision the only have eyes
may be coloured blind

to the hidden prize
the sub-text in the margins
that fill the plot hole

Saturday, 22 October 2011

Ain't Frit

and now  the voices start
those grody sounds that stop your heart

beneath the floor within the walls
the precedent for dull footfalls

calling to us one by one
with no clear sight of saint or villain

a spectral round of hide and seek
directed by a floorboards creak

each time we search there’s nothing there
but of this guest we’re so aware

was it here first? we cant be sure
it wasn’t brought  from distant shores

as never had it raised its head
until that gift from land of Vlad

was carried over our threshold
but did this herald something cold

the bearer of an ancient fear
something as of yet unclear

or are we merely in the thrall
of phantoms more explainable

Please, Shut Up

I’m bombing it,
bombing it
tried to swallow back
the honesty
but I drank too much
my mouth has rushed
and now I got to vomit it
and spread the truth
around my walls
and slowly watch
my kingdom fall
in walking waking faking dreams
with worms of words
that wound and keen

Good Morning

with the cup of your ass
planted firm on my hips
the curve of your spine
pecked by impatient lips
strong arms are freed up
to reach round and caress
while hands do that thing
that you always like best
my love in you grows
as you grind to your rhythm
and before we both know it
we’re in the full grip of heaven

Thursday, 20 October 2011

This Soul Will Not Be Coerced

just here for the entertainment sir,
left all that contrition shit at the door
whats that?
an exclusion order restrains my ass
from communion with your holy mass?
I mean those flaming swords, dramatic touch,
but maybe just a little bit too much

see your man made laws they cant prevent me
confronting that holy trinity
and asking “what have you done recently
to help your pet, humanity?”
that silence is a deafening roar
“hey! watch it when you slam that door”
you might get me once I’m in my coffin
but until that time you’re getting nothing

Tuesday, 18 October 2011

Full O’ Shite

I never could write

when I was

I thought Carole nailed it
when she said

my composted self
was the soil
for the fertile verse
of maturity

but then
here I go
shooting my mouth

I have no story to tell
nothing guaranteed
here then but

Poetically Active

not inside
seems the best
thing to
while the
and forms
ready fit
so to
unleash these
as physical
would diminish
the power
we hold
in our

Talkin' It

you got me
rhyming while I’m walkin’
it’s the truth but
whod’a thought it

this addiction
of transfixtion
lends my fiction
an affliction

and my diction’s
from the station
of inaction

in addition
my reaction
to predictions
of elation

leaves a notion
of devotion,
and affection
non deservin’

Taking Stock

sweet Ariel on the wing
let loose your heart to sing
hold not those chains within
for every end must first begin

Sunday, 16 October 2011

Its Hard

I dreamed of you
as I lay
in that half light betwixt
night and day…
then way we played

I composed
a quiet symphony
with my lips
on tender breasts
and eager hips

but my hands
they played a fiercer game
and you drenched
my fingers with
honeyed rain

so when our bodies
finally meet
the shapes we formed
grew firm and tight
as one complete

and this embrace
warm and slick
glides and groans into
something more urgent
than playground frolic

unleashed and exploding
into one another
but then I’m awake
with nought but hard memory
of forbidden ardor

Saturday, 15 October 2011


the quickest way
to lose a friend?
an opened heart
that no longer pretends

this barren cupidity
can be allowed
by the veracity
of my here and now

but that doesn’t
resolve my burning
need for someone
to share these yearnings


my heart’s not for sale
its free in a box of your
favourite cereal

Stay Away

may be the day
I fall so far
beyond your fair

try as I may
there is no simple way
to spill
those truths my recreant
heart compels

torn, dissolute
and tormented
into explosive
fits through passion
I cannot share

the charming works
harbour such
rapacious sin
this way with words
a beast within

but I fear
no final reckoning
what frightens me
is the pain
that I could bring

to those
sweet souls
defiled herein
by proximity to
my amoral collapse

Friday, 14 October 2011

Pequeños Besos

those small kisses
can mean so much more
than liplocked
tongued drenched
face eating gorge-outs
the tender brush
of lip on eyelid
and gentle peck
down length of neck
that don’t require the lights out
soft grazes
of your wrists and hands
as a butterfly alights
with dewy lips writes
passages of the devout


I want so much
I’m not entitled to
and lose my heart
in places it’s not meant to go
I cannot give
what I could promise you
and should remove
my stain away from your virtue

October 14, 2011

this golden fall day
offered up a false promise
of springtime renewed

Fresh Delivery

this air smells new found
mine alone

not the promiscuous fug
of city gas

Thursday, 13 October 2011


my heart opens quick
and warms in earnest fullness
just to be left ash


find me
a periodic table
with all the elements
of my life
so I
can balance the equations
that bring me so much
fucking strife


me convenzo a veces
que la atención es más
que efímero

eso a pesar de todo el ego
hay algo que para
el paso de las mentes

en la niebla que
el abandono licencioso previene
una reunion

de las almas que pertenecen
ensamblado a través el
pertenecer verdadero

pero por una parte completamente despierto
en la obscuridad de mi realidad
¿quién son yo que engaña?

One of my favourite poets is Pablo Neruda. His poetry translates beautifully into English and I thought I might try and pass something back the other way (I'm not kidding myself I'm any kind of Neruda). I would love any Spanish speakers to comment on whether it really makes sense and if it is at least vaguely entertaining


I play my part in the tragedy
that which life calls upon the human race
and with words never right enough
for the evil that desire wishes to write
forgetfulness of who I am
opens the gate to a garden
where fidelity forbids admission

Cada Corazón (gracias a Leslie)

mi corazón
mi corazón
qué corazón no bailaría
a esa canción
pero no convoque a
mi corazón
podría caer
donde no debe
y abra una puerta
en el jardín en donde
la fidelidad

Tuesday, 11 October 2011

Monday, 10 October 2011

Here We Go Again

today fear renewed
itself in my quivering
new job first day nerves

No Excuse

this ghost in my house
that lacks corporeal mass
must learn to close doors

A Kind Of Heaven

I remember this kind of heaven
and right now its where I need to be
corner sat in a midnight dive

drum, double bass, piano
with the icing on this cat’s cake
a redhead on the mic.

languid deep sliding
seducing my willing spine
and wire brushed rims coax

maundering ivory doodles
into lovelorn incantations
my smoky angel invokes

she’ll pour her shattered heart
into my icy tall Jack and
I’ll drink deep of her sorrow

until amongst disheveled wakening
I’ll kiss her soft back and wonder
where did the morning go

Sunday, 9 October 2011


disembodied discs
shine silver at the stair top
both cats sat on lap

Saturday, 8 October 2011

Lies, Damn Lies & The Weather

the weatherman
you can see it in his
he tries to mask it with winks and
and friendly laughter that
his speech all ciphers that
yes, the weatherman


sepia confetti
as summer’s rusted brides fall
their contract fulfilled

Friday, 7 October 2011


bottle poured grey slug
oozes full Jabba manner
then flicks the meter

Lune d'octobre

cold reclines the moon
on her flocculent cradle
in serene slumber
icy balefire
distant, beyond distance,
affords chill lustre

Thursday, 6 October 2011

Loose Lips Sink Ships

I have a somewhat chequered kiss-tory
never wholly about sexuality
rather something simply more friendly
though my wife she tends to disagree
and thinks my frankness terribly tawdry
that I possess a certain moral laxity
quite often it was people kissing me
a distinction that she failed to see

Such A Price To Pay

down hometown lane
moth pulled
to the beacon blue
thick siren wail of
death’s ghastly debut

spiteful pother
masked sight
of the wrecking ball
that snuffed my young friends
flavian candle

grisly mound
flecked with scarlet dew
which grim grey blanket
can’t hide from my view

wires bind my legs
but run
with blood like cold lead
while by the schools yard
I was the one dead

had preceded me
with news
of corpse with fair hair
many gasped and cried
as I now stood there

united in tears
we sang
with dust motes dancing
in sunlit eddies
“Morning Has Broken”
This one of those true moments in my life story. When I was nine years old I came across the immediate aftermath of a friend, called Paul, who was run over and killed while attempting to cross a road in thick fog to get to a candy store on the way to school. We all used to walk alone or with friends to school from a very early age back then. This was the first encounter with death in my life

Wednesday, 5 October 2011


fruit rusted through
the pathogen
escaped from Eden,
damned before even begun

Tuesday, 4 October 2011

Get On

doesn’t mean you should forget
like remembrance
shouldn’t cause you to regret


I dug the hole
that welcomed her home
to the earths resolute embrace
I opened the urn
of her powdered relics
for the wind to blow in my face
I cried no tears
as I laughed with her,
still fooling from some other place
I lay her deep
under roots of wild cherry
for her spirit to surely grace
I walked away
from fresh planted copse
forever now a sacred space

Thursday, 29 September 2011

I Am Bad (but you would)

I am fiendish
I am fickle
I will break you
if you’re brittle
I am reckless
I am hateful
I am Cain
slaying Abel
I am feckless
I am feral
And my words are
so very cruel
I am heinous
I am hostile
my tongue will cut
you like a scalpel
I am callous
I am carnal
when I take you
you will buckle
I am scabrous
I’m a scoundrel
but I know you’d still
let me fuck you

Bag It

once green knotty glade
bespoiled by hasty repast
our selfish discard
wind gathered aegis
now caskets for the careless
in the dirty shade

Wednesday, 28 September 2011


for each trigger pulled
another mothers child lies
lost beyond all sight

Spider Town

It’s suddenly
that time of year
crawling up my bedroom wall
racing down my wooden hall
lodging in the bathroom fitments
laying claim to dingy basement

I’ve said before
they don’t agree
with wife
and daughters
all quivering three
but these intruders they abound
not even hiding in the background
and brazenly they chase around
their polished laminate playground

Morning Fog (Wednesday)

Woden clamps frigid
gauze over my hungry eyes
masking all but grey

Tuesday, 27 September 2011


roots entrenched
though now
haggard stone,
drawn and quartered,
an ancient demise,
suffered this venerable
harvester of wind

looked over
from high
and risen anew
modern Titans
offer new solution
agents burning fire
caught fresh from the sky

Morning Fog

sleepy Earth breathing
opaque dreams spun gold fire by
the Sun’s waking rays

Autumn’s sharp fingers
roll a coruscate quilt over
somnolent glebe

Monday, 26 September 2011

Bod Teircaill

From below a trail
of floury footprints
aspic set
in the high deep lapis

tired of dancing
the up down round
of rain above
the furrowed ground

Bod Teircaill shakes and
with arms arrayed,
fanned fingers wide,
shrugs of the Earth

catching full hold
of Cymbeline’s draught
he peeee-uu’s aloft
and re-marries the sky

domus phasmatis

that wraith
no more
backwards glanced
dim corridor

legs alone,
less or
phantom danced
trapped echo

ashen, dusted
now reanimate
grim memoir

Saturday, 24 September 2011

Domestic Godhead

Yes I bake
So fuck you!
If you leave me your wife
I’ll fuck her too

Friday, 23 September 2011

I'm Batman

Dirty towels tied tight
around neck, down back
each little boy thinks
he’s the man come bat.

But terry cloth just wasn’t
fine enough for me
and to my ever patient mum
I did tearfully plead

“Make me a cape
of the darkest black
with that badge so yellow
of my hero’s bat”.

And when next I gazed down
from my bedroom lair
a little girl pointed
and shouted “Look there!”

Then I rushed down the stairs
in my cowl of nylon
stood hand hipped on the street
and decreed “I’m Batman!”

Thursday, 22 September 2011

Did I Really?

can I have a singular heart
when my heart’s not in it,
be averse to risk
but never shy of a kiss?

so you thought me sleeping with the enemy
though we weren’t really sleeping
and now you’re keeping me awake
with all your gnashing and crying
all that “how could you”, “I hate you”
and “what the hell was I thinking?”
I thought it was just a friendly kiss
but, well, I had been drinking

we’ve been through thick and thin,
the both of us, and back to fatter
and I thought we’d reached the kind of place
where this sort of shit really didn’t matter
now twenty years long beyond that night
with tankers of oil poured on that water
in our abiding winter of fragile détente
I probably shouldn’t show you this photo


clandestine glancing,
surreptitious crushing,
social networking
or indentured stalking?

Hello Again

Dawn’s flashlight
scours the high bellied stratus
while retreating billows
feed aurous rays
like the spreading fingers
of a child covering a torch

NO Doubt

so many faces of guilt

but once reason is stripped

and justness is kicked

into the long grass at the side of the road

the mere fraction of doubt

remains doubt enough

to arrest that

which cannot be undone

for no matter how we deliver

a man his final breath

there is no parole

from the singular face of death

Wednesday, 21 September 2011


why do I feel?
for every hurt this world has to offer
why do I feel?
the need
to cradle every broken bird left on the roadside
why do I feel?
grief doubled
for every tale of caustic loneliness
why do I feel?
why do I feel?

Tuesday, 20 September 2011


TRUTH written down is truth denied
TRUTH revealed is truth ignored
TRUTH explored is truth defied

, once observed,
is truth distorted,
the altered state
of measured fact
TRUTH abhorred is TRUTH

Dawn Redux

From the Eastern Marches
a Battenburg dawn
boils and scorches
the puffed, gilled denizens
swimming through
a pelagic heaven
rising higher and deeper
braided then shredded
by a roaring whisper
laying tracks of gold

Fallen Leaves

the arborary mantle slips,
dowager dry lentigo browned,
to dance tiny pirouettes
with devils of dust & grit

Monday, 19 September 2011

I Should Stay Blind

I look,
but know I must never touch,
this beauteous raven
garlanded with bewitching jet
silken and slick cascading
over her troubled coronet

Morning Reflections

my morning begins
in diurnal margin still
black as my coffee
rose and tangerine
a pastel explosion through
smutty cornflower
feathered filaments
paint a hazy smudged montage
of smoky misfits
speeding on & by
the relentless passage of
steel caged isolation
commuter driven
rush of single occupant
selfish luxury
rent final grimace
begs bloody reflection on
my fragile tenure

Saturday, 17 September 2011

We All Float

And then the echo from beyond

Drowned in the mud pool
Stripped to the bone
You nailed my skin to the dragon tree
But there is no gravity now
No attraction here to hold me down
So count the footsteps as you walk
Hear the dread echo in your heart


A word of warning. A lot of my work is observational and does not reflect the person that is me, especially this one. I have anger but it is never focused in the direction of these words. I'm not sure it works so any comments gratefully received, public or private

do you love me? I love you
if you loved me
you would
a jar
a jug
the pollywog thug
the welt
the stripe
backhand swipe
be a good girl
I told you
I warned you
you’re mine
you cant leave
you wont breathe
if I choose
you might die
then I’ll lie
next to your
fathomless sleep
mine to keep

Wednesday, 14 September 2011


Empty timbered cradles
float in the sky
like ruinous piles
exposed on a crag high

above the reach
of earthbound danger
now stripped of all façade
no hint of comfort or cover

an arbour of skeletal fingers
twisted and twitching
in brittle ebullience
threatens to send all crashing

Like, Whatever

Yesterday I wasn’t here
Today I will tarry
Tomorrow I will be no more
This my only certainty

Well I Never

I never questioned that torn photograph
of my young, beautiful, blond mother
sat on a rock with a phantom arm
draped around her slim shoulder

I never understood her eager receipt
of those brown manila letters
addressed to someone not quite her
that she hid with such discomfiture

I never knew until she was gone
even the name of my absent father
that I was officially “bastard child”
of a man they called Trevor.

September Hares

Amid the long shadows
of a furrowed field
sunwashed by a chill
Autumn sunrise
I delight in
the lopsided loping
of those lop eared
children of dirt

Monday, 12 September 2011

Wind Rover

head stock still
while fingers of heat, raised up
to caress my downy plume,
gimbal me and hold aloft
my obdurate observation
my quilled sweep
rapidly whirs
while eyes track
through grass,
over stone
I see you now!
I will hang steady
with effortless demeanour
though without
those invisible breathy hands
I could not prevail
The callous scimitars
that lead me earthward
hail you, bringing tidings of
a singular minacity
though I bear no malice
I have one purpose


Like freshly dug earth
I smell it before I see
that advancing wall

of swarming silver
peardrop bullets from above
singly crystal clear

but at muster
a turbid shock of steel to
sack and claim the land

Sunday, 11 September 2011

The Beat Goes On

the dogma
from itself
which still marching
to the
count of
persists in its
relentless pursuit
of wealth

Saturday, 10 September 2011


In my garden I
can physically grapple
those deep rooted anxieties
and thorned dilemma

grasp a real nettle
it’s a place I can show
my true mettle
and should the rhizome

prove elusive or slip
from my grasp
I can chose to dig deeper
or let things lie until

implacable shoots once more
beg my attention so
their basis might be addressed
or buried "de novo"


In a foretaste
of ecstasy
I consider
your firm
rain dashed
and sun splashed,
where my tongue
slips along that
curved groove
until my teeth tease
a tiny stalk
atop your swollen
violet fullness.
I split you
and revel
in your entirety,
as your essence
pools a purple nectar
upon my lips

And In No Time At All (testament to youth)







Friday, 9 September 2011


This is the whole
of the swallow me hole
that almost stole
my careless soul

while out for a stroll.
Waiting like troll
this hall of mole
‘neath grassy knoll

which pressed by sole
needed none more to cajole
and greedily bowl
me one fathom below

Wednesday, 7 September 2011

Tuesday, 6 September 2011


We were all American

THAT day.

A shock stock still

multitude of

mirrored Munch

we watched,

as helpless infants

in an infernal pit,

the devil at play.

While the

corollary citadels

static and inviolate until

THAT day

burned and crumpled,

razed in seconds

what took years to raise,

in a surge of sinew

and iron and dust

We attest that matter

cannot be destroyed,

that from which were are made

will last forever,

but too much that mattered

passed beyond our belief

so our hearts hardened

then you bared you teeth

THAT day


My sweet daughter
she still skips along
at an age where in many
innocence has gone


I thought I saw
such sweet sadness masked
within the whisper of your smile,
but staring past the ties
that cheese wire our hearts
your eyes betray
a disintegrating lie
and you’re showing me more faces
than a game of ”Guess Who?”

Monday, 5 September 2011

All Our Fears

There are people
in this world
who would kill
my little girl
just because
she was born... finish this tale
of fear that is universal

The Change Is Unchanging

black ribbons,
flesh and feather and bone,
ripple the sky twixt and around.

copper backed
scarlet jowled rollers
in fear of shot hug the ground.

red white smudged
tardy ebony arrows
pack their bellies, Africa bound.

I went to sleep
in Summertime,
I next awoke
to find Autumn crowned.

Friday, 2 September 2011


the kernel
which is me,
Roll up
take your shot
bring your fires
your bowls of pitch,
the feathers
are on me.

Thursday, 1 September 2011


Consider the dismal
assemblage before me.

Where the pearl jewelled trove
with such beautiful lustre

that which I plundered
amid the bespattered bluster?

Wednesday, 31 August 2011

August 31, 2011

In sheep cropped pasture
where clouds chase ghostly shadows
sun brittle bones scream

Free Vortex

Not quite the Maelstrom,
Nordic destroyer from Poe,
but when I grow up

What Makes A Poem

It's gotta rhyme
else it ain't worth a dime
though I strongly disagree
with this philosophy...
...awww crap

By A River

Amidst dewy dawning
and distant lowing
scrambling over
tangled root stone bedding

neath hillside glowing
from cloud stalked
cold shock
to sun burst warming

flows river umber
running iced tea
tarnished and malty.
To this tumble

comes happy dog
snout near rabbit deep
wary cottontails peep
from behind mossy log.

While hedgerow and tree
with gummy slap
and spittle spray of sap
shed and share their berry

bees, silver backed
full droning bluster
drain all they can muster
before dragons snap.

Damp ochreous sheep
like tea-bags spent
connote what ferments
this tawny creek

Steaming hummocks
draw up the eye
to a full weighted sky
where the swifts run amok

through a rising feast
and with like minded purpose
the bubbling surface
is equally policed

Soon, oh too soon
throughway is blocked
each gateway fast locked
by authority oppugned

from this unfriendly zone
we turn on our heels
retreat cross green fields
to man's enclaves of stone

Tuesday, 30 August 2011

Runswick Bay

Through stair-rod rain such
precipitous descent leaves
breath in short supply

Over warm wet sands
swallows run low to the ground
feeding black arrows

Stone finned sharks encamp
below the beach awaiting
careless tourist feet

Wind scoured detritus
rewards each searching foray
fresh discoveries

Wave chiselled dark caves
Invite exploration of
dank interiors

Stone cast dead shadows
ciphers from Earth’s callow bloom
lay broken cast-offs

While the village sits
atop its haven of rock
in pretty repose

Hill fed lees stream down
shit littered weathered causeway
in doleful disgust

Monday, 29 August 2011

All The Time In The World

Hewn in antiquity
of fire and ice
rough fell born
in flash and fury hurled
from the high ground

set in motion
artlessly impelled
downwards tumbling
by such attraction
that demands all
obey its draw.

But my life’s course
stretches far beyond
your mortal grasp
and moves at a pace
measured in millennia
as you count days

I may rest bestilled
in quiet backwaters,
with fragile gossamer
dancing suitors,
a heavy quilt of moss
my besplendoured bed

Then torrent and
boiling spume,
surging anew
cast me seawards
towards a destiny
you cannot follow

I may reach the ocean,
traverse the abyss
arrive diminished
on alien shores,
or waste away
before that mark

But beyond your
temporal sight
I will subside toward
that searing core then
enkindled, compressed,
emerge once more

Sunday, 28 August 2011