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...