july 2016


...with my many faces I drift

between the urgent and now emollient voices

to find only the harmless sinews

of my hands twisting with age

as though still trying

to authenticate joy

and span the world

with some destitute wisdom

a lie that grinds bricks

into my face and eyes

this skein of smart, sexual promises

in praise of menus and mawkish celebrities

their laughter exponential

as is the unquestioned duty

to always be entertained

by oranges and rape

the viral, OMG blitzkrieg

the last, inescapable heaven

twisting and grinding bricks into my face

as I attempt yet again

to seize the chorus in my head

and quieten the unquestioned onslaught...





...the wind bursts through the night

and the black trees stretch starwards

reaching for life’s dark euphoria

their waving arms bringing malice to the fore

a nameless, metallic lake

that sits on the stomach

and pushes its verse upwards

a heavy, greedy imperative

eternity out of control

words, rats, obsequies

crawling across the brain

the wreckage of endless divinities

a blade drawn limitless

through the human mind

the night wind bringing release to the fore

a place where the dark trees

explode with iridescence

and freedom now has nowhere to go

but the stars...





...each day waits in abeyance for each day

for the one-two-three obsession

where each second becomes

a speck of dust

and the word heartbeat marks out

its enduring anarchy

these ridiculous, empty testes

soothing the subconscious

slipping from one mantra to the next

and these pillows sprinkled with lavender

simply because there is so little sleep

beneath the wrinkled eye-lids

just meteors and litter

and, of course, death’s vicious rainbow

falling from the mind

this list of traumatic joys

a shy, unwilling biography

a life in abeyance, waiting for the dust

to become one more second

in the meteor’s descent...


...by raw deceit

an invisible chaos is closing

like a burning cheese-wire

around our lips

and this once iconic world

is now left pirouetting

its crowds terrified by liberty

by love and rose gardens

by mothers left wiping their children’s

blood from the walls

as truth becomes confetti

and confetti premeditated deceit

the closing wire

a superstitious pact

between slaughter

and the will, the power and the glory

to eradicate fraternity

the narrowing, banal loop of laughter

an invisible wire

spinning humanity’s dark, new shadows

as the devotees, meanwhile, rise to their feet

and the gently-coloured confetti falls


through the roar of approval

and settles unnoticed on the floor...