Category Archives: Poems

Feeding friends

I feed you food in hope that you produce compassion if not empathy.

May hope be a by product of staying alive.

May staying alive be easy and of value.

May ease come to you as an instinct.

May your instincts be kind.

Autumnism plague

The pages turn as the trees shake off old growth. A quiet melody plays whilst she reads by the fire. The plates are full. The cheer is here. In this moment we have no fear. October nights glow in our memories with smells reminiscent of smoke and warmth. When the nights are cold and strange and all the pets sleep on, and all the light has gone out and we go to dream new songs. I’ll think about the time you stayed with me and kept me as your own.

Ghosts

I am just a ghost in a ‘morbid dreamland’ but this is where we congregate now.

This is how we meet up and provide each other with the help we need.

My imagination will help power yours and yours will help power mine.

Let yourself drift.

Slide down every watery path until you reach the sea.

You can overcome everything you need to.

The sun and moon will glisten and the darkness will contain.

Books will expand the world if you are a prisoner. Food will contract it. Use them well.

The rules are simple but best forgotten.

Welcome.

The French Connection

The garlic sellers hands had an all day smell.

Stale from yesterday when the garlic sold well.

The hands were large.

Fat fingers like sausages.

Her date for the night was a crêpe suzette.

He said your scent is great come sit on my baguette.

My Dream of your Dream

Softly the feather cushion supports your skin.
Naked on the settee, free, otherwise not concerned.
A patterned patchwork dream in your head.
You want to act it out in 4K HDR colour before you’re dead.

Pretence and arrogance.

Often your day is long and you are tired.
There is housework to do and everything is unattractive.
What falls eventually rises again but not tonight. Fuck that.
Something soft is still relatively hard because I can’t do it. Shit.

A Plaice In Mind

There is often a case of caution with plaice. Leave this fish be in the ocean. A hazardous race of engines at pace is done by the boat as precaution.

But a potion is drunk by the sailors who stunk of fish kept in ice like lotion. It comprised of rum and felt like fun but sleep became their eventual notion.

Furious rage woke from drunken haze as the night turned to day and all the fish swept over. No luck, no clover, the drunken seaman went over as the seas demanded attention.

The trawler was ruined. The seagulls were stewing their plaice with salt water and kelp. The fishermen died without help and the shorter straw was drawn by the fish and the men who passed with a yelp.

The sea calmed it’s waves and said goodbye to the days where boats would claim it’s bounty. The wind had dropped. All the corks had been popped by nature who never would die.

So goes the story of catching plaice and men snoring drunkenly into the night. Their vessel had failed because they drank too much ale. Natures debt was dealt without commotion.

And so this tale is sung as warning old and young to people at this charity. Don’t be greedy, reward the needy, and the world will find it’s own parity.

I don’t know what this is meant to be

What can I say?

Great green swamps of the East.

Nutritious algae looks unappetising.

Sniff a beaker of soil, my friend.

The smell of Earth is your base.

Surely a rainbow would brighten your day.

It’s starting to rain.

We’re all in pain.

An empty stomach is a shame.

Let’s eat.

Forever beginning

At the start of things the Earth eats the sun. It feasts and brightness is forever tarnished.
We then retreat into our minds and feast on moonlit imagination.
With each subsequent thought the darkness grows.
Reality dims to the point of the original source.
Hopefully we can send our selves there and dissolve as brightness reigns again.
Just so the mountains can once again eat all the light and grow trees on their peak.
The cycle goes on to this day.
Forever beginning, we are helpless, as the skies and the soil do battle.

99

99% of humanity’s tears are yet to be shed.

99 buttons in my box but no thread on the reel.

99 reasons for ice cream still I deprive myself.

99 carved decorations but I keep looking for the blank block.

99 possible outcomes started from the same place.

99 colours would make me go blind.

99 thoughts but I have to choose which to use.

99 steps but no dance, no stairway, and no instructions.

The Oblivious


I could lighten your misery.
Your darkness would lift.
Shower you with brightness.
But what would you see?

Nothing.

Blinded by light.
Untouched by night.
Howling your ignorance.
Writhing on the floor.

Narcissism exposed.

Guided by faith.
It is always a sign.
When it’s convenient.
Otherwise it’s sin.

Hypocrisy.

A cold touch.
A withered hand.
Weight on your lower back.
You could fall at any time.

Hand of God.

Whisper on the breeze.
Schizophrenia or holy spirit?
One pious rationale.
One debilitating illness.

Rulers.

A smile on the street.
A laugh and a meal.
The warmth in my heart.
Random kindness.

Inside us all.

Moonscript

The dark and the light. Stories written of land made of cheese, of a man in solitude, of scars and holes.

The full moon just gone, see you again soon, cloud permitting.

The new stars are primed on their rockets. Set to be speeding across the sky. An awful musk lingers.

The moon will always be the moon. Until it becomes the property of few. They might one day own the moon but they will never have what we have. Tales and song. Food in our bellies and drinks flowing free. A cheer and a smile.

To the moon. To the moon. To the moon and back.

Cat

Pounce, cat, pounce
Catch a beam of light
Through fields and trees
You will win every fight

The smells you encounter
Wrap round your memories
You are loved completely
So do anything you please

The warmth of your coat
Will keep you feeling cozy
So I accept that mouse
In place of a posey

Dreams vs reality

Every night I close my eyes and flirt with death.
I lose my choice, my identity, my name.
I see things that do not exist.
And occasionally scream in pain.

Every night I close my eyes and flirt with death.
But I’m loyal to life in the morning.
I look, I feel, I taste my food.
And smile at the day that is dawning.

Avangard

We will all die.

Money will become meaningless.

We will regret not doing nice things more often.

Nothing is more valuable than a smile on a loved one’s face.

Prioritise.

Underpants

Sliding down a valley.
Falling through a hole.
Tumbling over and over.
Dropping further.
Lower and lower.
Next to my broken ankles.

Underpants.

The Greatest Slumber

Sleeping on green sheets, under two warm duvets, and a thick woollen blanket.
Me and my cat are mutual hot water bottles.
Serenity is in my body but my mind is distracted by the muffled radio sounds through the wall.
A double is fine but a bigger bed is an aspiration; indeed.

Heat trapped radiating in and around us.
The day’s gone contents being chewed up gently in my head.
Fleeced of a rest by some fool shouting next door.
He turns up the radio to drown himself out.

There’s always someone else but you can be settled where you are.
Until the next trawler dredges up old bedded muck.
I’ve never been as certain although at a distance is it both easy and hard.
Letting myself drift into fantasy I notice a change.

Voices cease; a radio off.

The greatest slumber will be here soon.

Framing the picture

Trying to assess how I am
I frame a snapshot of my mind
Cropping out bits to make a good scene
This is how my sanity will unwind

An overreaching attempt to grasp a hot mug
Spillage and pain
A needed drink wasted
I put my head above a burst water main

A sea of movement
An elaborate dance
Feeling between us
Keep us entranced

Monotonous duty
I work to some trance
In vogue so I vogue
I take my chance