Home before 8 he’d say,
dinner on the table,
but the clock struck
quarter past my patience,
and the milk he’d sought out
sister and I
will have burnt toast tomorrow.
But no loss for he,
his thirst had been quenched,
feasting on white lies
and mother’s restless sighs.
An appetite fit for a king he’d say,
but so far could he fall
from those kingdom castle steps.
Sunday 29th August 2021 2:07 am
Brothers of sand
Holding signs, I am a man
Daughters of dust
Holding signs life in her gut
Fathers of the past
Never thought how long this would last
Mothers of the movement
Never thought so many forget their commitments.
Brothers of man
Fictional to control and command
Daughters of woman
Subjected to the desire of lust
Fathers of the future
Thursday 10th September 2020 5:56 pm
It has been two years today
Since I have had a fight with my then girlfriend
And, crying bitterly, I entered the living room
Replied to my father’s concerns
And let him know his daughter was dating a girl.
No wonder he hasn’t spoken to me since.
But, this poem isn’t about me
And nor is it about a cousin sister of mine
Whose phone was found in the living room
Full with smuts and gay storie...
Friday 29th May 2020 2:06 pm
When you’re born in the shadow of a mountain
You know the warmth of the darkest of shade
You know nothing will ever rise above that mountain
In whose image and shadow you were made
When cast in the shadow of a mountain
Your caste can feel defined before birth
Your path may seem predestined and written
As your feet struggle to impress in the earth
But there’s a com...
Wednesday 10th April 2019 8:26 pm
I remember exactly the spot
the place I sat
when she told me
I remember the cooling coffee
when I was told
I remember the uncertainty
in her voice
when she told me
I remember how I smiled
the joy I felt
when I first knew
my almost son
Monday 12th November 2018 12:16 pm
Were you not my watch tower, erect above the chalky cliff
Stone guardian against all, high over the rough tides of my youth?
Was yours not the bastion, planted secure on the high turf:
Whose high walls embraced us and protected?
But that was then, now I am the ascended man -
Now I do not see your turrets from my farther shore
Black waves broke on your defences, your mortar crumbl...
Sunday 10th December 2017 4:05 pm
Saint Stephen's tale
It's Friday, sweets from Mrs Smith
Degeneration X and anarchy
Frankie's words: two tables, four chairs, suspension.
Discovered passing the buck, and thus passed it.
Stole the show with Twenty-one Questions, four dancers, and a singer.
First girlfriend changed everything, "You're young, she has baggage - get rid..." … did...
Sunday 7th April 2013 3:01 pm