29 March 2014

Holding Hands


We were holding hands

The gesture spoke volumes

When she saw that

She knew we were lovers

My blood ran cold

But I didn’t let go

I didn’t run after her

It was too late for that


28 March 2014


Bobby and Susan were best buddies
It was purely platonic, so they said
In fact they were so close
That when I asked Susan home
Bobby came as well
I could tell he was crazy for her
His eyes never left her
As we sat drinking coffee
In my living room

I thought I had struck out
Things being the way they were
With Bobby there and all that
I stood up and stretched
Said it was time for my bed
Susan stood up and took my hand
As we both left the room
I clocked Bobby’s dial
There was a look on his face
I’ll never forget

26 March 2014

Suicide Watch


there was no mirth

no laughter

on the locked ward

I was under observation

on the suicide watch


it wasn’t the dying

it was the not living

that I yearned for

life had proved a burden

to great for my shoulders


the place smelled

like a funeral parlour

and if you listened carefully

you could hear

the sound

of whispered prayer


I saw a woman there

try to cut her wrist

with a crucifix

there was something

symbolic about that

I can’t put it into words


25 March 2014



We averted our eyes

I don’t think we spoke a word

We committed the act

With little enthusiasm

More like a chore

Than a pleasure

When it was done

We did not exchange numbers

Or engage in idle conversation

She just called her husband

To come and pick her up

There were no goodbyes

She split without comment

I was left there wondering

If there was any point

To something like that


24 March 2014



He was beautiful, blonde and gay

That scared a lot of folks

But it’s an ugly old world

Full of frightened people


Our dirty little town

Was as shitty as the next

It was no place for gays

It was no place for him


But he didn’t give a damn

About small minded people

He’d rub their noses in it

He’d play the queen  to great effect


They shunned him

They insulted him

They assaulted him

They even stabbed him


But he would not go away

He would not slink off

Into some dark corner

He would not feel ashamed


But he was an outsider

I know he felt like one

It doesn’t pay to be gay

In a working class town


He had a little clique

About a dozen guys

They’d go out dancing

And risk a beating


They had their own scene

It was more like a ghetto

They all lived like shadows

But not our Leslie


He lived like a giant

The prince of the homos

He bowed to no man

Because Leslie was free


The thing about Leslie

Was he lived to excess

One day he choked to death

On some poisonous pills


Hardly a day passes

That I don’t think about him

The best are taken early

It’s always been that way


I think he was the bravest man

That I have ever seen

I’m proud to say I loved him

And proud that he loved me




Descend lower

Descend softly

With a whimper

And a groan


This is the hour

Of mute insanity

When distempered

Seeds are sown


The hour for

Savage butchery

Of cleaving

Sinew and bone


Now is come

Your midnight

And you’ll face it

All alone


A Married Woman


She was a married woman

They always are

She was almost dead inside

And needed the excitement

He was a single man

With time on his hands

They were destined to meet

It was lust at first sight

A match made in haste

She tried to pin him down

To quantify his affections

He always came off wanting

Either he had no love to give

Or he was too tardy to give it

The relationship was characterised

As at best indifferent

At worst plain hostile

Theirs was an alliance

Cemented by loneliness

And fuelled by alcohol

But she would close her eyes

And savour every moment

For when at last he held her

She could almost believe

In the love she’d once been promised


23 March 2014



Her eyes were drenched in tears

I felt that I was dying

I never meant to

No surely not, no

I’m not that kind of man

The kind to break a heart

As casually as that

Accidents will happen

I’d often play away

It was only sport for me

I tried hard to explain

She meant nothing to me

It was all a big mistake

But I knew that it was over

That dark and painful day


21 March 2014




Teach said you’re a genius. Dad says you’re an arsehole. His love / hate knuckles are harder than hammers. He’ll knock the sense out of you. The boy becomes a man in a strangle hold. What kind of fear drives a man like that? What nightmares must he have to dream so small? He said; ”You’ll follow in my footsteps, or follow none at all.”


New Skin


Graft me some new skin – skin that crawls with deliberate intent across the killing floors of utile abattoirs where brass eyed hookers draw licentious remarks from serviceable villains with sharp threads and sharper faces – the kind you cut your knuckles on.

I want to float on liquid gardens in the realms of someone’s paradise and wet my feet on grassy morning dew while angels sing Hare Krishna with voices that tinkle like little silver bells in the here and here after.

Give me clouds of cotton candy to hang my wardrobe in. I want rolling waves to rock my boat, but not too hard – there are places I would go yet and I’m much to fat to swim. Bring me a golden pallet loaded with everything, but most of all bring me someone I can grow young with – someone who fits in with my new skin.


20 March 2014

Fallen Angel


Bring me my broken halo

To adorn my fevered brow

And pour me another shot

To set my tongue on fire

Dust me with the incredible

Soul enhancing medicament

The kind they only procure

For innocents and children

I was once the chosen one

Now I’m the master of disaster

There’s no room left in heaven

For hapless lonely sinners

We fallen angels sing

From torn and tattered hymnals

That we only receive the love

We think we’re worthy of


19 March 2014

God’s Great Joke

Ancient Of Days Blake

Does it ever end?

God’s great joke

The madness in his method

Brings tears to the eye

We are all doomed

To repeat our mistakes

It’s a biological imperative

An impulse compulsion

That costs us dear

The coin we pay

Is bloody and sharp

But no one suggested

We’d get a free ride

So bring me flowers

And lay me down easy

Six feet beneath the sod

So that I can’t rise

Feed me to the worms

I’m folding my hand now

For I’m not well suited

To his grand design

* Image by William Blake


17 March 2014

Love Now


Something is wrong

Something’s going wrong

There is tension in every second

Apprehension to each heartbeat

I’m a bomb wired to detonate

At the slightest human touch

So hold me close and set me loose

Teach me the meaning of your heart

Lie to me if you must

Cut me down and tie me

Into a sailors knot

Bind me to your womb

Show me the love

I was promised

Ever since my birth


Wrecking Ball


Wish me luck

I’m going nova

The head’s a faulty compass

Don’t know which way to go

I’m a a cool cold reckoner

Subtle in my brilliance

I’m the chosen son of heaven

On an ecstatic spiritual high

I’m an awkward moment

Of inner confusion

I’m a jealous lover jilted

In a suicidal frenzy

I’m the smoking gun

At the scene of the crime

I’m the piece of barbed wire

That tears your backside

I’m a heartbreak sob

And a carefree sigh

I’m catastrophic news

Waiting to happen

I’m a truckload of chaos

About to unload

I’m a wrecking ball

I’m dynamite

Just waiting to explode


14 March 2014

Rose Of Jericho


I pushed her buttons

And she opened up like a flower

What’s that the image of?

An unfolding fleshy flower

The sacred rose of Jericho

Tattooed to my ribs

The five wounds of Christ

The seven veils of wisdom

The smiling secret ciphers

Signalled between a lover’s lips

Behind closed doors

Between the sheets

Beneath the heaving flesh

Sliding – rolling on the mattress

Pressed against her bosom

Jammed between her thighs

Inside her velvet prison

My walls come tumbling down

But just in the moment


13 March 2014




Take him and lay him out on the tall trestles

Put him in the shop window

For passing trade to see

Maybe some use can yet be made of him

I won’t dirty my hands with the details

Some words cannot be retracted

I’ll just say that he was here and now is gone

On twenty one occasions I asked for his forgiveness

He just shrugged his shoulders and slouched away

“No”, was all he said

Come on girl – no use moping after him

His journey is over now

Ours is just begun.


12 March 2014




They say the good defines the bad, but there are things beyond measure or classification in any man’s story. Sometimes, not always, circumstances affected the function of my clean machine. The inappropriate order of processional disconnect messed with my mind. Caught changing horses in midstream, directionless and alone, I set my thumb to work on the great highway and got myself gone. Never ever go back.

An incessant pouring of cold calls in the menagerie of strange encounters drenches the soul in disbelieving. Sell me a story, make it a good one. We all sell something precious and we all have a price.

To tell the truth I’m having my V2 moment – earth shattering in its hellish brilliance. The cause of my cracked ceilings and situations smashed was staking all on a long shot that failed to show. I’d probably do it again, but I’ll never get the chance; such are the rules in life. We only live once, but you can die a thousand deaths. So smooth my sleep and stamp my dirt down. You won’t meet me again this side of heaven.


11 March 2014



Winter sun

Speaks bleakly

Of days now done

And surely all things end

But it’s a cold old world

When it’s a friend


Made Of Glass


Let the silence sing

Let it wash over you

Let it enter into you

The heart knows your name

She whispers to you

In euphonic tones

Everything is transitory

Even love is temporary

A vessel of joy

Or chalice of sorrows

Love demands obedience

But if love will not allow us rest

Then I say down with love

And its servile minions

The sun, the moon, and the truth

Cannot be hidden

The human heart is made of glass


9 March 2014




The pain will pass

It always does

Any day now - you’ll see

There awaits

A crystalline moment

Of cool clear deliberation

Where aspiration ascends

Under vaulted skies

And velvet gloved angels

Will paint inside my skull

With absurd hallucinatory murals

Any day now - you’ll see

My comet will streak

Across the sky

Into the heart of the sun

To perfect my fantastic explosion


3 March 2014



Almost perfect

Just a shade of doubt

Nestled in cold corners

Between what people say

And whatever it is they mean


Almost Funny

Stumbling blindly

Across the bridge of broken words

A murder of ravens

Provide a mawkish serenade


Almost dark

Just a touch of night

Sheltering in the heart

Nothing that can be seen

From the outside looking in


Almost aligned

To the insane demands

Of inchoate gods

Locked out of the house

Defenceless in the cold


Almost resigned

To the power that rules his fate

To bear unbearable burdens

To fall and pick himself up

Only to fall gain


*painting ‘Eight Ravens’ by Sophy White.

1 March 2014



When did we learn how to hate?

Was it incremental

Like the constant drip, drip, drip

Of a leaking faucet

Delivering the droplets of hurt and humiliation

That gradually painted our hearts black?

Was it as sudden as the illumination of betrayal

The spike of ice cold acid in the veins

The shock of the inevitable,

The realisation of all our fears?

Or was it always there

Carried within

Before it ever had a name?