Slam Poem
It starts with a bit of confusion at first
Maybe a question about me
And some daily occurrence
With me hoping I can work it through
So I pick up the rhyme
On the street of the stage
Cos in this age of poetry
Not on the page, the beats from within
sing inside of me
And now eternally,
the rhymes come internally
And through these rhymes
that ain’t no crim...
Monday 25th June 2018 9:36 am
Vanishing Point
When I was a man leaning against walls
and that was all I did with my day, the walls:
pebble-dashed, bricked, wood -
I was just a man that leant against walls.
At some point something changed and I ceased
to be a man who leant against walls and more
of a man that salted cucumbers.
The cucumbers would arrive in packs of ten
and, with method, I would apply the salt,
...Tuesday 25th April 2017 12:47 pm
Animal Cruelty
Here is an elephant.
He knows not of what is going on
or how he got here. Neither do we.
He divides opinion, like the foul stench
of an onion in a warm room.
Some chant of its values,
smell only what they want.
Some simply cry.
The elephant fixes his tiny eye
on a mate.
“I’m gonna grab that cow by the pussy
with my tusks,” he thinks.
Followin...
Thursday 10th November 2016 3:15 pm
Selected YouTube Comments from Mark Ronson’s Uptown Funk, Ft. Bruno Mars
Why is it under Mark Ronson's name?
Bruno Mars sang almost the entire song.
It will be realised I am the one billionth.
It made me happy so you are wrong.
How quickly they forget....
Am I the only who heard Stalin?
I love Bruno Mars/Peter Hernandez!
(My friend's dad is cousins with Peter)
It should be Bruno Mars - Uptown Funk ft. Mark Ronson.
Bru...
Monday 19th October 2015 9:52 am
The Lines
I stand and admire the lines,
not always so straight.
The concrete veins through the places of old
we once walked,
through to the quagmire paths
where you first found my arm after stumbling.
The burrows, dark and secret, where lips pressed
against the soft feel of ripe naked fruit.
Canals, rivers, brooks, streams we have strolled along,
flowing the only way the valleys a...
Tuesday 30th September 2014 10:15 am
Everything Is Documented
A damp light from a table candle flickers,
revealing tomorrow’s faeces
– braised red cabbage, filet of beef
and a quarter glass of red wine.
Everything is documented.
The pout, strained through the rush of alcohol
at a flash that shows lifelessness
behind heavily mascaraed eyes.
All for show, an image portrayed
to those that follow, but how hollow
the bones that ...
Thursday 29th May 2014 11:37 pm
To A Lover, Overcome
To a lover, overcome with panic and lust,
think back to that summer and that first song.
Sinew inside the mind, a singing black slug, snug,
leaving lines in the cortex, a tune of dementia.
The ticks, tremors and sounds of envious children.
A wilting, sad cluster of flowers, dropped.
Crescent half-thoughts into action as the song ends
and steer vitri...
Wednesday 31st July 2013 12:20 pm
Supercilium
She had that arched eyebrow,
a black eagle’s wing.
This eyebrow asked
what you are worth to her.
I liked that.
She said she was from the dark end of town,
that place where thievery smoulders
and street corners are plagued by crows.
None of that mattered.
I imagined that moment
after our first time in bed.
The weight...
Monday 10th June 2013 4:15 pm
Caroline
Caroline talked in her sleep last night.
She told a story about a cat.
“The cat sits amongst the flowers,” she said.
“The cat is happy.” And that
was the end of the story.
She sometimes sings in her sleep, too.
Murmurings of lullabies,
sugared lips slightly parting
mouthing the words to forgotten songs.
As she sleeps, tells stories and sings,
...
Monday 10th September 2012 4:19 pm
Growing Flowers By Candlelight
Ambition expressed in the raise of an eyebrow.
History yet to be formed in the eyes.
The lifting of a neck and turn of a head
following a Mother’s voice.
The tiniest grip on an oversized finger,
an instinctive need for security.
Filling a mind with nonsense words,
hoping something sticks.
The wonder at disappearing, appearing faces.
A reacti...
Wednesday 7th March 2012 11:31 am
A Ghost-Boned Wet Dream
There’s a woman who thinks she can
Have a wet dream about a vague man
She's ghost-boned with an ear to the floor
She hears whispers from the room below
But you can’t have a wet dream over vague men
There’s a baby crying for a mother
There’s an old man screaming out for another
Another daydream of times gone by
Another nightmare of a long goodbye
...Thursday 20th October 2011 12:02 pm
Charles Loves Julie
Charles stares at Julie through the window,
sees the flick of blonde hair framing her face.
He strokes his chin as she points at something in the room.
A friend she is with laughs and waves.
Charles needs a plan.
Something to grab her attention.
So with all his focus, he defecates where he is sat.
He stares at his waste, picks it up
and with his...
Friday 9th September 2011 3:17 pm
Keeping The Scent Of Insignificance From The Door
The apple scent throws me back to my childhood
picking apples from the family tree
in a grandparent’s garden with a sister.
Her up the ladder; me, holding it steady.
My gaze follows the upward flow
of her arched white socks as she balances,
straining to reach higher.
I see straight up her skirt, up to her cotton-white
knickers and the smooth dark creases th...
Thursday 9th June 2011 12:47 pm
Spitting at Bus Stops
Graffiti under a bridge: a cock; kev luvs liz.
Bodies half developed, tufts of pubic hair,
and they need to check if their penis is still there.
A fast food job to top up their EMA.
Getting away with as little as they can,
taking the fight, on the streets, to the man.
A cap on a head, not worn backwards anymore,
an ASBO sewn violently on a sleeve
...
Wednesday 13th April 2011 2:23 pm
Memory Sketch of Adolescence Part One
Expectations of a life to live
Blow jobs in back alleys
An elfin girl lost to a car wreck
A father to believe in
A cigarette stolen from an auntie’s purse
Ambitions to be realised
Bad advice from a counsellor
A career in the army
The bad corner of a lane
A secret kiss under cotton covers
Ambitions yet to appear
Warm your hands in mine
The s...
Monday 7th March 2011 2:38 pm
A Man Walked Into A Room
A man and a room.
A man walks into a room.
He's a man, definitely a man.
Not a lady, or a unicorn,
or an urchin.
Does he seek out virgins?
Not that I'm aware of.
Was he at any time a lady?
A man walks into a room.
The definite article of a man.
Walking into a room.
Is he Our man?
Our man walks into a room.
Tense?
Our man ...
Wednesday 12th January 2011 9:16 am
The Psychology of Doodles
You curl up with the phone,
favourite pillow on your lap,
coffee on a settee’s arm,
ready for conversation.
As you dial you pick up a pen,
doodle on the back of a bill
the face of a clown with stars in his eyes,
You tell me of your empty day;
soup and ham sandwich,
a queue at the bank,
and I groan and console
in all the right places.
...Wednesday 8th September 2010 1:38 pm
How To Fix A Broken Man
Today is thoroughly sad-sick.
She is in the garden picking peas,
I’m in our wardrobe, masturbating, slow.
Sandalwood sneaks around the house,
Frank revolves from another room
as we prepare for tonight’s repair.
I am a lover in her reality
but a liar in her dreams,
a big pumping heart on legs
that beats to the sound of love’s drum.
Where...
Tuesday 29th June 2010 11:06 am
Pandora's Box (Blind At The Root)
He stands with his back to the world,
teetering on the edge of a cliff,
trapped in the twilight hours of day and night.
His laughter is nervous,
sends waves of fear up his spine.
He doesn't speak a word.
Everything we need to know is buried in the dark pitch of his eyes,
where the shadow of the moon hides.
The waves, more than two hundred feet b...
Friday 28th May 2010 1:39 pm
The Search
Sink into the bible’s words
Tales on a page as old as the wind
Crash into the rocks of knowing
Hear the alarm call of birds
Taste aniseed and coal
Dream of big bangs, atoms evolving
Greet the stranger, take his hand
Feel your body begin to rust
Look for the warning signs of death
Let your feet sink into the sand
Monday 19th April 2010 2:50 pm
Paper
[Original version]
Monday, I played with her clitoris
Thumbed the little bump of her bliss
Asked politely for a certain type of kiss
Tuesday, told her everything was fine
Watched her dance through the fug of red wine
Hung clothes up outside on the line
Wednesday, cut her hair with a knife
Said I would make her my wife
Not thinking it wou...
Saturday 27th March 2010 11:05 am
A Short Meeting With My One True Love
Saturday 26th September 2009 4:24 am
The Waiting
Wednesday 23rd September 2009 6:09 pm
Conversations About Miles Davis
Tuesday 22nd September 2009 8:36 am
Oh, To Live In Chechnya (thoughts on an afternoon)
Friday 3rd July 2009 11:29 am
The Point
Monday 29th June 2009 11:45 am
Sunday Afternoon
Thursday 11th June 2009 9:54 am
The Fool Who Ate The Gruel
Like a log taken from the arse
of the corpse of Marilyn Monroe,
and kept on a satin pillow
in a shiny glass display case
in a museum of Fetish Bazaars.
This morning I awoke and felt like a dog.
I felt like the Greek dog Cerberus,
with three swaying heads,
a serpent’s tail of menace,
a lion’s claw of words,
and a mangled mane of snakes.
I felt like Cerberus, guarding
the Haides Ga...
Sunday 7th June 2009 5:02 pm
What Salvador Dali Said One Time
Tuesday 26th May 2009 12:40 am
Dave's Bird
She seemed to hold the weight
of a hummingbird
and had the flutter
of an owl in her eyes.
Carrying fragile arms
like sparrow wings,
she reached out
and touched my lips.
She told me,
not with a squawk
but in a whisper,
that the Devil
is an optimist
if he thinks
he can make people
worse than they are.
Tuesday 12th May 2009 5:15 pm
The Importance Of Magic In The Void
The ironblack eyebrow of Hughes
raises an inch as I arrive
and like a sad A Minor Chord
Kundera sits in his corner
as I walk through this place, the void.
I’m offered a whiskey tumbler;
taste my soul in its afterbreath.
Virginia Woolf, the curve of her
intelligent nose running through
her prose, gives a toasts to the void.
JD Salinger pours red w...
Monday 16th March 2009 9:25 pm
Stop The Clocks
Time, by now, surely needs a rest,
To deservedly put up its feet.
After working long, hard and fast,
Without relative pomposity or frown,
It’s due some sort of treat.
A sugary, savouring pause,
While the rest of us stop
And give much praise and applause
For Time’s endless countdown.
Its tick-tock clip-clop
That has completed our...
Wednesday 28th May 2008 6:42 am
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