june 2018




...lay your cherry blossoms down

lay your children’s bodies down


yes, you with your shadow in your hands

with your lonely drama so vast you cannot see it


come, lay them down

and give them your epic tears


your lamentations tucked into the crevices of walls

without your children the universe is useless


so come, let your teardrops fall

let them fall warm into their eyes


for you have nothing left

but the cruel immensity of their passing


nothing but this unbreathable, yellow smoke

drifting through the orchard 


an unheeded, acrid warning

so vast you couldn’t see it


we are the earth’s frozen shadows

the ever-widening crevices in the walls


so come, before it’s too late

lay your cherry blossoms down


lay them down...






...without exception we are all on our backs

over-corpulent bastards, unable to stand


offensive chunks of fat

that serve and crave legitimacy


by sucking the insanity from each other’s backsides

our so smart, cat-walk utopia


the ever-spiralling, two-way paradise

of entertainment beyond the grave


and yet we have had so, so many chances

to change the human narrative, to get it right


the inconsolable civilisations

emerging from the waves


scouring the foreshore for sea-glass

for any trace of their meagre benevolence


the amber remnants of themselves

a frozen utopia


that again tried so, so hard to get it right

and so now here we are


the take-away, paradise bastards

unable to stand


unable to swallow any more of the narrative

the alpha and the omega of civilisation...





...every night dead angels crawl across my bed

humming to themselves in excelsis


but I know they have only come to collect memories

to smell them, taste them


and then spit them back into my face

they will use anything


so long as it carries the scent of retribution

even fragments of my own conscience


and these, my transgressions embedded in the ceiling

they swirl them around and around


until they become the blazing dust of some galaxy

and all the lives I once touched


are then tossed into the screaming flames

but these angels don’t care


they throw their voices

repeating work brings freedom


and whisper that I am just another name on another list

a transgression to be deleted


before the world can move on

collecting its fragments


and singing gloria, gloria...