Father told me, when i was young, that his mother told him ‘if you can fit pinky to thumb around your wrist you are too thin’. When I managed to grasp my arm half way up, pinky to my thumb, I saw success. It’s hard to see sadness when you are sick. Mother taught me forgiveness was not earnt, but expected. So, when you lied to me I knew what I was to do next.

    

         The cathedral was o...

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When I close my eyes I see the sun rising over the ocean. I see a succession of cars. I hear you laugh. I see knives in the flesh. I see fireflies surrounding your body. I see endless trees and a forest I have never known. I see barbells and birds. Lots of birds. I see the moment you decided to give up, I see you vomiting in the toilet after taking the pills.  I see you telling me you thought the ...

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Black woman you’ve come undone

Carrying the weight of the world on your weary shoulders

The pied piper has come to collect your last remnants of sanity in exchange for sleepless nights 

Constant thoughts flood your mind’s eye

Strong, Independent, Sassy, Abrasive

Adjectives assigned against your will 

If only they knew you were

soft, needy, earnest, kind

In a hopeless state ...

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Woken up Rudely by a wide awake kid 

Her iPad starts blaring , that one that you hid,

 

It’s 5 in the morning , but she wants to play,

But you’ve hardly slept, not ready for the day ,

 

You’ve been up all night , on the edge of her bed,

While she sleeps so soundly, sweet dreams in her head,

 

8 comes round it’s time to get up and go, 

But now she is ‘ tired ‘she’...

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Guilt Rebuked!

You liar!

A wretched bully’s sidekick

                    claiming nothing of your own.

You don’t even know when to agree

                                                 – just agree with everything, always.

 

And your answer is always the same.

 

Coward!

Whisper your poison and 

                         look away as if…

But I know it’s you;

I...

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last night's pleasures

 

The maiden walked through

the village's cobblestone streets

to the small white chapel

seeking forgiveness

for last night's pleasures.

 

 

\

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I hear the hounds whine. The dust rises as they stomp and claw the dirt before me. Eyes made of moonlight and their breath, the stench of pain. I am no longer their mistress. Forsaken them for a heart. Oh wretched beasts forgive me. Allow me one more day's light above the shadows.

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planning one's escape is never easy

even Steve McQueen found it hard

guilt made me especially queasy

I was writing your last birthday card

 

my escape strategy was meticulous

armed guards would have missed it

such carelessness left me incredulous

normally your vigilance took the biscuit

 

I timed your every movement with care

then I waited till you left for the gym

...

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"I want to tell you" she whispered

his heart cooled in the

sudden ice of their bed

"dont get mad" she urged

she'd been only fourteen with

a married man then

her mother taking charge and

from a long way off something about

a clinic

but what got him, sucked the love from him

was the tears

that claim of continuing loss

she'd even given him a name

no guilt

he ...

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Repitition was key

But never the key to success

The key to her chest

Was hidden in the black depth of her soul

 

Repitition was inevitable

Outsiders were impatient

And also knowledgable 

About what was likely to happen next

 

Repitition was boring

A different mask for her to wear

To hide the recurring sadness

That she endured from his actions again

 

Re...

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I start the day with little to no inspiration

Much like everyone else in the world

I also start this poem

With the repetitive voice of exasperation

 

The sirens are blazing late tonight

As souls are being set on fire

But because of some peoples' perseverence

Loved ones' bodies are also being set alight

 

Recreational parks are not essential

Travelling out of the wa...

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Getting acquainted with the moon 
behind glass
we exchange so many glances
and on my back
a thousand heart-attacks roll past
My fingers beside, cross and uncross
as you sleep, so black
back in the real world
paid up entirely
on your subscription
to actual reality

O would you bring me a souvenir
from the envious depths of endless peace
perhaps a child or a patient nurse
or some cont...

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Friday night we walked along the beach
talking over a static sea
through all we wearily witnessed this year
still we speak in riddles
the way men often can
it only gets harder as you get older
weighted with expectation
You didn't turn to face me
kept your eyes fixed on the horizon
said 'she's pregnant' 
with a pregnant smile

Black boots kicking stones across wet sand
choking out cong...

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My studies have given me a legacy of interest in many and wide-ranging social, moral and ethical fields and concerns, as well as the politics of power. This piece is a manifestation of that legacy.

 

"The world is splitting open at my feet like a ripe, juicy watermelon." Sylvia Plath.

On her gravestone: “Even amidst fierce flames, the golden lotus can be planted.” Wu Ch'Eng-En.

 

He...

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i am never one to say ‘i was only kidding’

i am the type who experiences guilt

physical and mental

never mad at those who snap at me

deservedly so

but

patience is something that i need

so please

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My pain, guilt are nothing ... if compared 

With your miraclish feel "self-value"

(Nothing evident).

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Can starlight fathom the distance it has traveled?
Does it count the time in hours, parsecs, even knots?
If I turn on my DVD, will I thunder through the
Cosmos as another wave of noise until the hand
Of time comes to switch off the hearing-aid of God;
And then, even as the webs of interwoven disruption
Traverse the galactic heavens, the only ears to hear them
Will have been deafened by the ...

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Within that morning abyss, 
I saw an imposing figure - 
Shamed from guilt, 
She shied away. 
Oh, the sight I saw - 
A figure so small, 
Hunched over - 
A lack of senseless pride.

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And now I must recover myself

Left, after centuries of fearful neglect

Washed up to dry on a sunless beach.

 

And now I must plait my hair

Dull, after nights of washing in grease

The guilty searches for lost affection.

 

And now I must return home,

Home, where I’ve never been

And sit a while and say sorry, I’m sorry, to me.

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I pull you out 
Smoothing your creases 
Lying you flat so I can 
Fill you with 
A sweet mixture of guilt 
And poison
There's artistry in my fingers
As I roll you expertly
(From years of practice)
Along your length
Into the shape I desire
I lick your edges 
Firmly sealing you with a feather like touch
I place you lovingly between
My lips
Flicking the flame 
That will bring you to li...

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Glass sides tip away the hope of perception and cameras flash away any hint of reflection
at this hub of metal minds and stiff bodies.

This soft grey raven digs for existence among the steel nest of discardment.
Every sip a taste of us, our residue his everything.

Around me, gold fingered bird-watchers with their fogged up binoculors,
tasting their uncessary glory.
Molten pride down th...

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Falling from the grace of God, not really caring where my faith has gone, Lost my way upon this road, like so many times before if the truth be told
Send away my sweet caress, bring me nights of guiltiness,
Break my heart and break my bones, this is the only way I've known.   I fade to grey so suddenly, not half the man that I used to be, The peace in my heart has gone, I wonder whic...

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Digital Clock Blues

the pulsing dots on my digital clock
are slightly out of sync
with my thumping heart and spinning head
I’m so drunk I can’t think

I see your face like neon taste
it makes me want for home
my hair’s a mess my clothes un-pressed
Oh Christ! I need a comb

my love’s shot down in rainbow ruin
I’ve played the game and lost
now the drinking’s stopped me thinking
and I...

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you are ticking the subscription of a shotgun smile

the restless reminder, the stranger behind you,

twice barrelled quarantine of lush glories

tar fingered around the ringed copper, broken and unworthy,

smoking in the buttoned up knowledge of hereditary tracts,

winter tracks and the plastic penance of a youthful slaver

“x” shan't mark the spot where we shall bury you

a shallow...

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That Which Autumn Leaves

 

The clowns were funny in the ring,

as they joked and tumbled and fell -

but in the camp, after the show,

they made our young lives hell.

Still in their masks of garish paint

and drunk on Vodka shots,

they cut and bruised and beat us,

hatching cruel, twisted plots.

 

I never saw the demons

lurking safe behind the masks

...

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Encounter (This Motorway’s Mine).

 

A black crow struts down the central reservation,

pecking at the remnants of undefined road-kill.

The white dotted line stretches out forever –

reminds me of the perforated slip on a tax form –

something that’s required but causes great effort

to tear along regardless, and sod the consequence.

 

A lemon-curd sandwich, parke...

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I know I’ve got a lot of stuff and no, I don’t need much more.

I know advertising’s full of guff and persuasion is what it’s for.

I know others needs are greater, but too often I forget

As I’m a self-berating splurger, oft wracked with deep regret.

 

No matter if you’re measuring in common, pounds or pence,

Too often it would seem that we have more money than sense.

I kno...

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August spawned a raging storm

four nights we watched our TV burn

we wrung our hands in shock and shame

then looked for someone else to blame

 

gazing over the fresh grown rubble,

the long term surplus of borrowed trouble

it begs a question with which we must wrestle.

if it’s only the threat of burning petrol

 

that makes the truth of now more palpable

...

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I’m stuck for what to buy for my 11 year old

So big sister prises herself off Facebook

to help spend my money 

(an honourable cause, in her books)

and suddenly we’re flicking through the years

as she remembers the day Santa died

a friend’s house, a dinner table

how adult and child laughed as they stuck the knives in

how she’d wanted to cry, but joined in

ten ...

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