30 April 2014



she was on the bottom of the pile

she’d been dealt a losing hand

twenty two and HIV positive

all Angela had to trade was her sex

which she did with grim purpose

she hated the punters – she told me so

as she picked at her fingernails

eventually drawing blood

she wanted to infect them all

share and share alike she said

the hate in her ran deeper

than her worn out veins

the love in her

was the desperate kind

for her junkie boyfriend come pimp

who needed his regular fix

that money didn’t grow on trees

she had to hustle for him

she was his daily bread

his slice of a heaven


everybody paid their dues

where angels and harlots

were all the same

underneath the skin

they all needed the human touch

and everybody paid

in one coin or another

everybody needs

a bosom to lay their head on

and Angela had hers

in the man who

put her on the street


27 April 2014



she said the right things

she wore the right clothes

took the right drugs

read the right books

and listened to the right music

but she wasn’t right for me

there was something about her

that made me feel uneasy

she was too eager to please

her every action was

designed to gratify my needs

you’d think I’d enjoy that

but you’d be wrong

I felt caged by her love

I had all the power

and it proved a burden


we had a friendship

that caught fire

it was a matter of time

before we got burned

the love we shared

had a gravity of its own

it began to drag us down

it had to end somewhere

and it ended badly

one rainy night

it simply dissolved

she said she hated me

I didn’t doubt that

she wore her love

like and open wound

it was bound to leave a scar


24 April 2014

Cul de sac


hard on the hips

the reflex action

that inspires


the meaningless

almost casual

sucker punch

that drags

on the genitalia

the passions spent

with the death

of imagination

the worn out


of the creative


of lovers retreating

behind drawn blinds

in their cul de sac


22 April 2014



nothing doing

not a murmur

except for

my breathing



in the night

her big

black boots

show no mercy


they kick me

in my coffin

and trample on

my dreams


my smile died

some way off

before the wee

small hours

ran ragged

and left me



there’s something

terribly wrong

somewhere away

where near is far

and far was yesterday


Erectile Dysfunction



suddenly sick

and heavy

the room rotated

an even quarter


upon every

heart beat

I was drunk

very drunk

I didn’t feel well

I felt bleached

and nauseous

I had no idea

where I was

but there was

a woman


that I was

never going

to fuck

because I was


too drunk

she knew

how to deal

with drunk

men who had



she threw me out

to stagger home



21 April 2014

The New Pornography


this harsh


that grinds

as it blinds

is the new


the word goes


a murmur

then a shout

live exotica

just inches


feed the membrane

stroke the cock

you can look

but cannot touch

a few grains of


are eked out

in the dark

just enough

to fuel

the fantasy

just enough

to leave you

wanting more

did you come?

did you come baby?

a feast of loss

a basket of prayer

don’t leave me alone

don’t leave me out here





I am well acquainted with

the lethargy born

of pitiless despair


is a slow crushing death

that saps the will to create

on the flip side

I know the fluidity

of the unrepressed

and altogether

beautiful mindset

that the mercurial state

of mania can bring

it’s then I am an artist

I am my own art perfected


20 April 2014



there were days

when we lived

as if we’d never


days we were


among the race

because our love

was the first love

to ever reach

those heights

we were sixteen

and did not know

that time was a thief

who’d steal our love

and leave us naught

but our memories


19 April 2014



it was a question

of sexual polarity

we had it, heavy

the chords of


were strong

with us

strong enough

to bind us


long after

we ceased

to love

strong enough

to blind us

to the inevitable


of our





from time to time

a man needs to love

and to carry that love

in the dance of everything

when passion prospers

and blossoms come

in the spring of his lifetime

into his winter months


18 April 2014

6 AM



it’s 6 am

and before

I can plant my feet

on the floor

a tsunami of shit

crashes into my heart

I wish that I was dead

and that some better man

had taken my place

I bathe and shave

I follow the routine

but inside I’m dying

from an incurable disease

there are parasites in my head

that won’t leave me in peace

I’m headed for a downtown bar

to seek out some relief


17 April 2014

The Last Time



we fucked that night

but she wouldn’t

let me kiss her

you know it’s over

when they do that


each time

I tried to kiss her

she pushed me away

‘What did you expect?’

‘I didn’t expect this’


it was the naked truth

that came between us

it was a shock for us both

his name was Robert

he was her husband


that was the last time

when she knew

that I knew

it burst the bubble

for both of us


16 April 2014

Handful Of Nothing


it’s the stony cold silence

the morning after

a beating

that fragile feeling

softly tremble

the queerness in the gut

when the ebbing tide reveals

the broken jaw

of the sacrificial lamb

it’s a garden untended

and filled with nettles

it’s a mouthful of ashes

and a handful of nothing




It was a glorious summer’s day and I was pleasantly stoned. Two young missionaries from The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints knocked on my door. I must have been pretty high because instead of palming them off with the usual spiel about my being an atheist I let them in. It was a hot day so I served them some cold lemonade.

We discussed the bible and Jesus Christ. They told me about Joseph Smith and Brigham Young and they gave me a Book of Mormon, so I thanked them. We even prayed together – though I did so with a certain amount of mirth. I talked and talked about Christ, Buddha and Krishna – mostly I just talked until they could not wait to leave. They informed me that they must be making tracks. I looked doubtful and said:

“Are you sure?”

“Yes” they replied

“That acid I gave you ought to be kicking in about now.” I informed them.

The blood drained from their faces as they reeled from the shock. They unravelled from smug satisfaction into deep consternation before my eyes. I laughed and shook my head.

“I’m only kidding. I wouldn’t do that to you guys.”

They seemed unconvinced and left rapidly - still in a state of shock. To this day No Mormon missionaries have knocked on my door since. I see them coming down the street going door to door, but they skip past mine. I think I’m on that database of theirs as doomed – an instrument of Satan.

15 April 2014



I wished them well

I wished them luck

I wished them

all the good things in life

I was the picture of civility

the epitome of the new man


yes, I wished them luck

but in my heart I knew

I’d rather see her dead

than with another man

I wished me dead too

I couldn’t live without her


Strange Beasts


woke up from a bad dream

I dreamed

I lost her in a crowd

of facebook people

and then she was on a

boat sailing away from me

I waved, but I don’t think

she saw me


I was nauseous

when I awakened

the weather in my head

was inclement

strange beasts

lurked in my undergrowth

they menaced me

with hidden stories

tales I dare not tell


14 April 2014

The Hand That Pleased

She touched a peaceful chord
In a discordant mind
The hand that pleased
Was delicate
beating in her breast
was a heart
of passion under poise
but I never understood
never fully understood
I wish I had paid more attention
They say she comes along
Once in a lifetime
I hope that’s not true
I hope she comes along again



I’m a car crash

A train wreck

A fucking catastrophe

Waiting to happen

I’m an emergency call

In the early hours

I’m a suicide bomber

about to detonate

One of these days

I will explode

And my fragments

Will splatter bloody

The scared and lonely people

Of this shitty little town


13 April 2014



some roads

should not

be travelled


they only

take me down


that familiar


is cold in coming


the weather

in my head

is bleak


and I am left

at the roadside

naked and alone


12 April 2014

Little White Lies


once I had two lovers

I know what you’re thinking

you’re either thinking lucky dog

or filthy rat

I think the latter is more accurate

I was definitely some form of rodent

nervous and fearful of discovery

scurrying through the dark

from house to house

and back again


both girls new about the other

but it was still an emotional minefield

so I used to lie to them

little white lies to smooth the way

little white lies to spare their feelings

I’d make up stories about my day

never mentioning one to the other

I’d tell stories about where I’d been

and what I’d done there


I had deceit down to a fine art

it got easier to lie as time went by

until it was second nature to me

that’s the thing about lies

they breed like rabbits

one lie begat another

until I was swimming in an ocean

of those little white lies


when I took all those lies

those little white lies

and put them all together

they made up one big black lie

my whole life had become a lie

it was hard to keep up with them

and they were discovered

one by one

in the end I lost both girls

because I was such a liar

and liars seldom prosper




if you were

feeling kind

you could

call him

a character

a piece

of local colour

the not so kind

would call him

a thieving junkie


he bought oblivion

in tenner deals

that universal


that caresses

as it kills



double dealt

he lied

he cheated

and he stole

but in the end

was generous

he gave away

his soul


11 April 2014



no vision here

only blindness

loneliness casts

a dark shadow

over stranded lovers

who stare vacantly

into the night


but not seeing


but not bleeding

their wounds carved

deeper than the soul

too deep to heal

in a single lifetime

blind to the living

dead to the world

they’ll find no love

outside their memory

they’ll find no peace

this side of heaven


10 April 2014

The Dark


we are all dragged

into the darkness

to those cancerous tropics

where there is no power to prayer

and there is no mercy shown

the seven deadly sins accrue

from tiny scattered seeds

to blossom as capital vices

the memory slowly drags us down

a sickly and appalling harvest

awaits us on the threshing floor

where a hushed funeral pall

blankets us with the silence

of dark and hollow wings


Made Of Clay


We lived like strangers

But still we called it home

The blows we were dealt

Were delivered

With the loving touch

That only a father

Could measure out

Justification came

From a bottle

There was no remorse

There were no excuses

We had earned

A beating

It served us right

“I am God

In his house”

He used to say

But he was a false God

Made of clay


9 April 2014



We went on a drive

Yvonne and I

Up through the highlands

To Loch Ericht

We picnicked there

Beside the water


She told me how

Her brother nearly

Drowned in that loch

And of the savage

Undertow that lurked

A hundred yards out

Where the shallow

Shelf ended

And the deep began


We fucked that day

Beside the Loch

A bus load of pensioners

Watched us from the road

We were embarrassed

When we spotted them

They seemed quite

Cheerful though


We later learned

That my friend Stuart

Had been skinny dipping

In the same Loch

The same night

With a bunch of friends

Loaded on booze and drugs

Stuart went out too far

And never made it back

Beware the undertow

It will drag you down


8 April 2014



I am in my bed

And I know

She is in his


And I know

Neither of us

Are sleeping


There are monsters

In my bed

They lick

They suck

They kiss

They fuck


The monsters

In my bed

Give me no rest


The monsters

In my bed

Leave me weeping




it happens

when I see




and when

I don’t see them



I imagine them



they say

that new love

is sweeter

than the old


that old love

can be bitter


the dish I’m left

is far too sour

to savour


but I’ll eat

every morsel

of this






look for more


7 April 2014



Quickly come, here now, always

Be mine alone and in the flesh

Too soon to tell

Of fractured dreams

That live as refugees

In the human heart

Once whole, not holy

Now under pressure

To slip, to slide, to perish

Leaving us with decay


Desire is ever in motion

Etching patterns of loss

Against our tender palates

We’re holding on

By the skin of our teeth

Skating on the surfaces

Of our conscience

Looking for loopholes


The clouded heart falters

For want of direction

As intuition fails

So suspicion will follow

And our secret loves

Head underground

In a worn out poetic fashion




Saturday night

In the boondocks

Nothing to do but

Drink and drugs

The corner boys

Are looking for a fight

The corner girls

Are looking for romance

Some will couple tonight

In secluded parked cars

Or in the graveyard


The next generation

Conceived in a haze

Of marijuana

And fortified wine

Will do just as

Their parents did

For there is nothing

To do on a Saturday night

In the boondocks

But booze and drugs

And the occasional fuck


6 April 2014



Shug was a wise guy

Always ready with a joke

And a wry comment

Everybody knew Shug

He was face

In the boondocks

A local hero

Shug had a junk habit

He sorted me out once

When my head was bad

I floated home an angel

On flimsy velvet wings


One day Shug came to me

To ask if he could

Take the hose

From an old vacuum cleaner

That I’d discarded

I said “sure – help yourself”

I didn’t ask why he wanted it

He was found the next day

Dead in his car

He’d used the hose

To pump in the exhaust fumes

That took his life


No-one knew why

He’d left no note

The car was parked

On his mothers drive

For several months

I used to pass it every day

I’d think about Shug

And how his mother

Must have felt

Looking at that morbid reminder

Day after day




The daily inquest has begun

Where did I go wrong?

Where the hell am I now?

I’m caught in the middle

Not only the middle

But all the way through

The morning weighed in

Like an anvil

The evening was heralded

By the unforgivable

Uncertainty of being

I have to resolve

Some complex algebraic


Just to fit into my skin

These are life

And death


I’m avoiding here

I think the problem is

A lack of personal power

To regain myself

I have to let go

I have to let go

In order to hold on


5 April 2014

An Unoriginal Sin


Glossy black

Ivory night

Tiny gifts proffered

To the starry eyed

Woman child

Curious species

Of pink piglet

Tiny blue licks

On nymphet glands

Dimly depraved

Languorous reptile

Generous expanse

Erupting fluids

Coarse blankets

Semen stained


4 April 2014




There’s little respite

From this Bi Polar shit

On the streets repulsive

I walk naked and alone

Everyone can see

My brittle fractures

And injured psyche

It’s written on my face

And etched into my soul

So I keep my head down

Avoiding eye contact

But there’s no hiding place

For the tenderest

Of our species

No safe haven

On the street

Or in the home





She arrived at my door

Hysterically drunk

She brought a bottle

So I let her in

She said she fancied me

Then she keeled over

I was not too impressed

By this wonderful news

I put her to bed

And drained her bottle

I slept on the couch

I was less than amused


3 April 2014



I got the FEAR on baby

Of little opaque lies

And big fat truths

With razor sharp teeth


What will we be

If the blade should fall

And we gently bleed

Into common pools

Of love and hate


And the number

Of our fears


The quality

Of our



1 April 2014

Dummy Up (And Listen)


not my best day

thought provocateurs

sabotaged my peace

and poisoned my well

tried my hand at doctoring

but I lost my touch

the feeling’s gone


so I grit my teeth

and bear it

I don’t spill the beans

I’m no schoolboy

3 wise monkeys

sing from the same sheet

ask no questions

you’ll hear no lies

and no fatal truths


it’s best not to know

what you can’t swallow

ignorance is never bliss

at times like this

but I don’t get to thinking

it won’t do any good

thinking’s not my strong suit

so I dummy up

and listen




When you work

On the open steel

They tell you

Don't look down

Never look down

Last night

I looked down

And realised how far

I had to fall

I froze

I'm still up there

Frozen to the spot

Staring at the ground




I was


to the waist


In my grandmother’s


there was a girl

sun bathing

next door

she was curvaceous

olive skinned

with dark brown eyes

and jet black hair

she was watching

I could tell

it took me a while

to work

up the gumption

to ask her out

she said

she was

‘sort of engaged’


I departed

with a awkward shrug

and embarrassed smile


six months later

or thereabouts

I met her mother

at a party

and I fucked her

what does that say

about me?

an egomaniac?

a jaded lothario

with Casanova syndrome?

my shrink said

I had low self esteem

and I used women

to bolster

my fragile ego

all the time we spoke

I was eyeing up her legs