30 June 2014



I’m not unloading

so don’t think I am

but I saved you then

I saved you, so no-one

could ever hurt you again

there was blood on my hands

but I wasn’t alone

when I stood at the altar

you were right by my side

what we did

we did together

with no sense of shame

I taught you then

what you’re teaching now

there’s more to the game

than just holding hands

and trading kisses

I taught you how to steal

you never asked why

but you learned your lesson

well enough to clean me out

before you said goodbye

I wonder where you are

and who you’re kissing now

I wonder if you remember

who it was that showed you how


29 June 2014



“ma name is Spunk”

he’d announce

in a voice full of

ground down

Buckfast bottles

“an ah’m the fuckin’ man”

he had a face

made of minced beef

which framed a broad reptilian smile

his head belonged on Easter Island

one great neckless slab of stone

balanced on mountainous shoulders

his hands were great steam shovels

used for the early dig

the knockout blow

Spunk dealt in hard times

for hard cash

with broken bones

and lost teeth

he’d taken many second prizes

but that was long ago

he’d since become selective

in who he fought

and what he fought them for

he did his best to live up

to the role his face had carved for him

he was coarse and aggressive

he was mean and repulsive

he was that big bad fish

in a little pond

the local nightmare

the hard man

who thought himself a king

but I saw him cry

when she left and broke his heart

he’d tried to make her stay

the only way he knew how

he used too much force

and killed her love that night

something in him died too

he shrank as a man

to a shadow of the beast

he once was

no-one fears him now

he’s just another wino

hanging around the off licence

an old punch drunk fighter

taking a standing count

one more blow landed

will knock him down and out


26 June 2014

Strangers Once More


we were completely

into each other

or so it seemed

we were solid

and sang from the same sheet

sweet – the way angels ought to sing

we consummated our thing

in the conventional way

as approved by the state

at the local registry office

witnessed by strangers

we made promises

we could not keep


we had the paper now

a sign of our commitment

but you can’t build a home

from paper

we gave it our best shot

but our efforts fell

well short of the mark

we parted as friends

one dark October morning

but even that did not last

and we ended as we began

strangers once more.


22 June 2014



I’d gone too far

everybody said so

it was only when

I found myself alone

that I began to believe them


diagnosed as faulty

back in ‘91

they took me in

on an observational basis

I soon learned the score

softly, softly

catchy monkey

little steps to health

don’t tell ‘em you’re done

they won’t believe you


I had to carry my gear with me

to protect my identity

from nurses

head shrinkers

and psychos


homeless for a time

I wept in silence

in that cold asylum

‘til I found the route

that would lead me home


I was nameless then

when all those stone faces

shunned me at the doorstep

I had to reinvent myself

to overcome the stigma

of public crucifixion


others would pad the story

and sell the bad news

as glad tidings

to their jealous troupe

of sycophantic stooges

but that was long ago now

and only fools

hold on

to an injurious past


19 June 2014

Punch and Judy


she sought theatre

or something like it

she wanted


and matadors

what she got was me

a major disappointment


a sheltered childhood

left her with a naive

thirst for life

a thirst I could not quench

in the end my shoulders

were too narrow

to carry her dreams


She was Punch to her Judy

the villian in her drama

I held her back she said

from her moment

in the spotlight

from the curtain call

in her pantomime


she held me down

I nearly drowned

in her self importance

18 June 2014



there is no dumb

eternal essence

no spiritual spark

that electrifies

the synaptic gap

we speak ourselves

into being

and our language

articulates ideology

we are the vassals

of whatever ideology

we call common sense

they have prohibitions

that control your body

and procedures

to improve

your ideology


17 June 2014

Dead Men


I write like a dead man

with knotted fingers

and a feeble grasp

I cast no reflection

into the pool of life

here on the outside

the far outside

there are no windows


no welcome in the hearth

and there are no songs

for dead men

to wrap their tongues around


15 June 2014



“no-one fucks like that”

she said

“unless they mean it”

I had given it full expression

and I had meant it

in the heat of the moment

with the fire in my loins


hers was not my circus


those were not my monkeys


“what’s wrong?”

“don’t you fancy me?”

her eyes searched mine

I averted – shame faced

silence was evidence

of my betrayal

I did not know what to say

the feeling just wasn’t there

well, that was my story

and I stuck to it


that was the story I told

and told over again

until I forgot it was a lie

it was a story of innocence

it was far from the truth

I have two glass eyes

and a silver tongue

I can lie with the best

and often do

but most of the time

I only deceive myself

with my harmless

acts of treason