Biography

I'm untutored & everyone but me, can see the glaring faults in my work. I believe in the principle of, "simple living, high thinking"; I try to simplify my life, as best I can. For example, by travelling on foot as much as possible; which could mean walking as much as 30 miles in a day, to attend poetry readings around the country. I find the events at the www.writeoutloud.net, gig guide. At the end of May 2013, I walked to Manchester from Leeds within 48 hours. Having attended readings at Cleckheaton Commercial & Ring o' Bells, Middleton, Lancashire along the way. Sadly the Manchester readings were cancelled, & rain & sore feet prevented me from going to read in Wigan next day. Another time I cycled to Birkenhead for the 'Poetry Spoke' at Gallagher's on Chester Street. It took me 46 hours to cover the Leeds & Liverpool Canal. Arriving at the Liver building at 7am, on Thursday 20th June 2013, with approximately 2 hours of sleep during the journey, having cycled approximately 130 miles. At Lunchtime I dined on Samphire from mud flats at Birkenhead. The gig was great, I cycled back via Manchester with renewed vigour; attending 'Manky Poets' at Chorlton Library, before catching the train to Bradford, & cycling the rest of the way home, as the rain began; completing an estimated 190 miles of cycling, in 5 days. I also walked to Macclesfield, for the 'Speakeasy', fortnightly Tuesday, reading at the Snow Goose, Sunderland Street. I continued down the Macclesfield Canal, a beautiful walking route, but due to heat & sore feet, after 140 miles walking, I failed to get to Birmingham, for a Saturday reading there; turning back at Stafford on 12th July. 3 & a half weeks later I walked from Leeds to Stalybridge, much of the way on the Huddersfield Canal; took the train the last 6 miles to central Manchester,& attended a spoken word performance at the Castle, Oldham Street. On the last train, I used the return half of the ticket I'd bought in Stafford the previous month, then walked from Stafford, mostly on the canal bank, to Cradley Heath near Birmingham, for a wrongly advertised gig that didn't take place. I must have done a good 500 miles, under my own steam, chasing poetry events Summer 2013. I'm eager to set off again, as soon as the weather is mild enough for me.

Samples

1: Growing Up. Life; only, sugar & toys, school-teachers; killjoys; friends; bullies, or snobs; siblings; torturers; toy cars, plasticine, secondary smoking, Sunday, to Church; parents; hungover. Wine sometimes, lured Mum in, tottering after communion; back, to smirking kids; stopping chortles, with a fist. Trust, something, yet to learn, but knew affect, of drink; learned to act, Mum & Dad, were, threatening. Depreciation, of relations, brought, resentment. Prescriptions; kept 'em quiet; for a while. Fights broke out; as, booze ran out; but can't part, bully, from cow. Inured to each other; they learned to love; 60 years after; lust, drew them together. 2: Ragged Lounge Lizard. To paint my life; any way appealing; would misrepresent. I'd feelings; mostly selfish; didn't care, for others' pain; bald-headed, scheming; all about me. Lustful interludes; interspersed intoxication; ragged, lounge-lizard, wanted everything; price; sincerity; too much to pay; I acted, mawkish; she made, a leap of faith. No honesty, but mutual; exploitation; more we got to, know, each other; more, we seemed, different; painfully, obvious; at her parents'. House in the country; swimming in the stream; a break, from bedsit-land, but we felt; shallowness. Empty as, promises; back to, cattle-market. Downward branching, heart lines; show disappointment. Sign of Moon, mount of Mars; madness. 3: He Stands Alone. Has-been in the, pick up joint, desperately going, nowhere; stands alone; nowhere else to go. Will he find, a counterpart, or get, more lonely? Probably, go home alone. Is it all his fault; such a bad sort? Really, worst in the world; 'cause he's, over, thirty; & can't keep, eyes off, girls? Still young; going bald; being bold; couldn't catch cold. Has-been in the pick up joint; becoming hated, can't be tolerated; does all the don'ts. What's the meaning, where's the point? Wants to be a parasitic, male; selfish scheming; centres on his groin. Don't waste a minute; he's indiscriminate; anyone's, but no-one's his. Exacerbated, need; douse flames, with gasoline; don't go near; he smells like cheese. Sexual consumer; self-abuser; helpless victim, of hormones. Hedonistic culture, makes men, vultures, instead of, husbands, you'd love to own. Has-been in the pick up joint, lascivious failure; on the bone; no-one wants to know. 4: Objectification Frustration. It's not for you, she's made up; dressed to the nines; low cut blouse, high hem-line; not for you, she click-clacks; in sling-backs. Don't dare look at her, you old sod; go buy a newspaper. For 60p, you can feast your eyes, till they bulge; but never, ever, ever; touch. 5: Gut-Rot. How many drunken people, will you be let down by; till you recognise, a lie? Seem to like you; full of beer; then sober, won't come near. How many drunks, will you be allured by; till you realise, they're fly. Seem to want you; full of drink; but sober; think, you stink. So if, someone, goggles you; consider intake, don't try to, talk, when they sober up; you'll be embarrassed, when you get rebuffed. Alcohol, tempor'ily relieves inhibitions, that help, avoid, bad situations; hangover, affects us opposite way; splits personalities, 'tween night & day; till daytime drinks, seem needed, to face; the problems, we're making ourselves. But, we're not, facing them, in that case; not at all; running away; like piss down a drain; to hide in seclusion, of a dull, damaged brain. Alcohol thrills, then kills; really doesn't help; every sip; a step to hell. Every sip taken; makes you fake, until you're someone; you really hate. It turns you into, someone; you don't want, to be; even if, it seems to, make you, feel; happy, & free. Alcohol based social life, must be damaging, if the only time you make friends, is when they've been drinking. Is alcohol, all we've got? Even in Church, they dish out; gut-rot. 6: Saturday Before Christmas. Seven o'clock, Saturday, drunks croak karaoke; piteous sound; poor fools’ paradise; frozen town. No-one speaks, in the street; cold as concrete; gloomy as guilt. Middle class, so aloof, drunk lads; uncouth; intoxicate; ad nauseam. Nervous smiles; slurred words, staggering; girls'; thighs wobble; as they step; toward regret. Drunken, beggars, flower sellers, girls with phones, attached to ears; screaming sirens; flashing lights, slobbery kisses; fist fights. Accordion players, line the road; I lean on a wall, rhyming scrawl; to warbles of accordion. Gypsy, hopes you'll throw a coin, if you're tipsy; hopes you, won't throw, a punch; if you're drunk. Christmas, lights, illuminate beggars; intoxicated, mithering girls; angry lads; & a, hopeless; poetic, tramp. 7: Kirkgate Sunday Morning. Empty cans, lie; black & white, like magpies; joys gone, forever. Real birds, strut 'round, grave-stones, knocked down; making way for change; no-one cares for old, graves; why should they? No-one knows, the bones; whose headstones, are pavement. Bells ring, this morning; deacons, stand as doormen; stopping; homeless; making pews, beds; old men & women; stagger in. But smiling, unlike minxes; passing by with cases; lines etched; on sad, young faces. Cars flash by; aeroplanes fly; another day of luxury, for a few; or poverty & freedom; for undeluded, lucky losers. 8: Lucky Loser. If you think, you've got, to sin, to win; you're better off losing; If you feel, the need, to cheat; to succeed; you can't afford, to feel that way. Piety's more valuable, than money; as you'll find, on your last day; not false piety; self-righteous, but truly, honest. Lucky loser; gladness chooser, defeated, but free; satisfied, with simplicity. If you give in, to a ruthless, social system; to get paid; you can't afford, to be, that way; time's more valuable, than money; as you'll find, on your last day. What price freedom, from wage slavery? You might have to relinquish; mundane respectability. 9: Evergreen. Rhododendron & Holly leaves; shroud, leaf-mould, ever-green; bare trees, reach, high above; moss capped, rock. Rosehip, & pink berries; spot, ivy-clad escarpment, rushing water flows; beside, the path. Clouds come from ocean; river from clouds; cycle unbroken; ever new. River, relentless; as time; estuary like entry; to real life. Fish, to sea; we progress; to the limitless. Beyond changing nature; vapour, condensation; sadness, gladness, Summer; Winter. Mortal feelings come & go; deciduously. Love Supreme; evergreen. 10: Bulrushes. There are bulrushes, growing on the warehouse roof; carpet of moss on the wall; sign says 'To Let'; but I bet; it's about to fall. Brightly packed, putrefying, food, in superstores; infertilised with insecticide; die if you eat more. Poison fumes, from vehicles, transporting, one; too wealthy to be healthy; impoverished mentally. Under tarpaulin, breathing fresh air; enough to feed on, fruit & greens, no-one else goes there. Discrepancies between; righteousness, & what's respected; mean principles, get rejected. 11: Nobody. Unless you've got a degree, you're nobody; scholars agree on this; unless you're framed, on the mantelpiece, with hat, gown, & rolled up paper; called a diploma; you're persona non-grata. An ignoramus, lacking graces, required for recognition; as human. No social standing, without understanding, higher things in life; etiquette, elocution; psychological submission; you're a naked ape! Lower stage, of evolution; but wait... Darwin's been disproved; & higher schooling, is a self-serving system, of privileged distinction; tailored to tastes, of those who can afford it. A place to find a mate, for the academic classes, & learn to turn your nose up, at the masses. 12: The Frosty Resistance. Society seems, to be, gripped; in a, pseudo-intellectual, guilt trip; foisted in the position; formerly occupied, by religion. Professing toleration; icy frost, shows condemnation. Icons of the age; radical revolutionaries, but Gandhi was, not; politically correct; nor Marx, nor Greer; we constantly, change ideas; in word juggling acts; evading the fact: This contradictory doctrine; discriminates, against things, it claims to protect: Cultural diversity; puts them in a quandary; free speech, at university; a thing of the past; swear in class; get, kicked out, on your ass. Working class idiosyncrasy; banned at university; widens social divide; poisoning students' minds, against proletarians, in name of political correctness. Society seems, to be in the gripped, in an all consuming, guilt trip, foisted in the position; formerly occupied, by intellectual freedom. 13: Lav' Loaf. A loaf of bread, in the bus station lavs; 29th June 2012: Bright, white, bread; glowing under halogen; stood on end, toilet side. Eighty-nine pee, price tag. Crust gone, like the man, who ate there; on the watery chair. Lining his guts, to shoot up. Left his loaf; for the next junky; in the station lavatory. I wondered, could someone; be tempted; to take it home; to save, from starvation? 14: Bloodstained Barathea; Wakefield Market 1986. Tuesday, half drunk, as market closed; among Nazi regalia, she found coats: Ancient, woollen, hand-me-downs; she tried one on. She noticed; Yiddish names, on pocket labels; a smell; dried blood; & holes. Some say, it didn’t happen; this was Jewish tailoring; bullet holes, & stench; of death sweat. You think, it couldn’t happen; Wakefield market, sold rags; of death camps. Bayonet & bullet holes, in girls' coats; ten pence, she bought them. Never such tailoring, or sadness, she found; as rags, of Hitler's victims. 15: Match of the Day. On the doormat, leaflets; for poison food; cheap; with election pamphlets; poison, of deceit. Litterbug postmen, litter the letterbox, straight in the litterbin. Unwanted like, minority, elected; politicians: Closing schools, & hospitals; open nuclear power stations; scapegoat the weak. Jobseekers, log on; to fill forms, never read; murder by attrition, Machiavelli's not dead. Docs write scripts; 2 grand a week; on strings, of drug companies; like police & politics; they're puppets. Kids at school, on opiates; Winter in dystopia; freezing cold; ice-creme van's go round; ringing out; metallic tones; night & day; ringing out, 'Match of the Day'. Police, don't want, culprits; instead search, for weaklings; scapegoating, keeps peace; with politicians. Poor ex-cons; might prefer; jail, to signing on; now so fraught, with oppression. Night; Winter, & ice creme vans, still go round; ear splitting loud; in freezing cold; 'Greensleeves'; metallic tone. Ice creme vans, keep us awake; 'Match of the Day'. 16: Dangerous Thing. People, who are, slow as treacle, take time; to live the life; cyber-dating sites; are money grabbing lies. Freedom doesn't start; at 5:30, but when we realise, spiritual unity; unique but identical, in quality; to all there's ever been. As equals; we're amiable; even if we're evil, we can be recycled; feeding, good instincts; smiles & kindness; instead of suspicion; irrational fear; animal reactions, based on appearance. Grow your own, tolerance, happiness will consequence; naught to fear, in death. Dangerous thing, is thinking oneself, above someone else. Most dangerous is, considering oneself; the best. 17: This Wise. Wisest of wise; all knowing God; highest science; spiritual knowledge; this is simple logic; wisdom of wisest, scripture recorded. Following scripture's injunctions; wise establish missions; for propagation of wisdom; wise follow footsteps of wise. But, arrives corruption; with egoists, within such missions, distorting the instructions. Lies don't corrupt the wise; wisdom never dies; wise follow wise; not liars. 18: Different Now. [ www.prabhupadabooks.com & http://krishna.tv ] How depressing was life? I'd run out of luck; now life’s changed, reading Prabhupad's books. Like, Bhagavad-gita, As It Is sung, by Krishna; translated by, A.C. Bhaktivedanta Swami; Prabhupad. Now, be careful, please; imposters pose as leaders; International Society, for Krishna Consciousness; ISKCON is, usurped by demons. Feeding, Prabhupada, poison; changing his books; ISKCON's, all corrupt. Prabhupad lives; in his books, usurper guru's; murderous crooks; posed as renunciates, indulge their senses. In changing books; their potency is lost. The originals, are re-printed, avoid imitations, sold by demons. Don't give money; to bogus gurus, or their cronies. 19: Rise Above. If we could see eternity, we'd notice temporality; material existence; like a prison sentence. When, soul can, rise above, material attraction; abstinence is, freedom; detachment satisfaction. But how does, one achieve; this transcendent position? By concentration, on the Absolute Person. Chant His name; in mantra meditation: Hare Krishna, Hare Krishna, Krishna Krishna, Hare Hare, Hare Rama, Hare Rama, Rama Rama, Hare Hare. 20: Creation. God made sharks, God made wolves; & men & women; unless we obey, His rules, we act like, wild-men, hiding disrepute; behind expensive suits. God made tigers, God made pigs; & me & you; without, His words; don't know what to do; fake respectability, conceals immorality. 'Neath veneer of quality, reside; predator families; sinking teeth in flesh & blood, washed down, with caffeine cups & toxic, hating, liquor; "Like a top up vicar?" Wait! "Be not among; wine bibbers"; "riotous eaters of flesh!" Hear what God said: "Behold I have given, every herb, on the face, of the earth; & every tree, in which, is fruit of a tree, yielding seed; to you; it shall be to eat." (Genesis 2:29) God made crocodiles & vultures; He made our children; unless we, teach; God's law; they'll be, criminals; dealing death; eating flesh. 21: Voices. Don't listen to voices that say "kill"; listen to the voice that says "forgive". Don't listen to the voice in your head; listen to the voice in your heart. Forgiveness plays, an essential part; in spiritual development. Jesus said that, & we have to believe it. 22: The North. Solid rows; humble abodes; soot-stained sandstone; on roads; composed; of rectangular stone. Fragrant gardens, overgrowing; crumbling walls; kiss; smooth paving-stones. Spires, black with coal tar, of engine smoke or hearth; peer above trees, in churchyards; gravestones, likewise, black. Preserved; by their patina. Unlike, denuded, disasters; ruined by, sand-blasters; trying to blend colour; with new, shopping centres. Such was Halifax, Town Hall; once black with coal tar; blasted back, to former glory; then algae; turned the spire green; giving it, sub-aqua, image, through the endless, drizzle. Blasting again, wore it away; vanity, wrecked; this gem; tearing off, the smooth finish; crumbling the beauty. The caption, carved in stone, that read; "act wisely"; now; ironically; invisible.

All poems are copyright of the originating author. Permission must be obtained before using or performing others' poems.