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Sorry for Apologising

At some point during my childhood

I decided that I would apologise for everything, just in case.

I must have done so many things wrong as a kid

That it was just easier to apologise for everything I did

And I found it was a very easy habit to adopt

Once started, I’ve never really since stopped

And pretty soon, in all forms of communication

I was ...

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slam poetryslamapologising

My Brexit Poem

Preamble: I know some folk are not going to like this, but it's my right to be angry and I don't care who knows it.

Live version on Youtube:


On the 30th of March 2019

I shall wake up significantly older

And no longer European.


What a great birthday present history has prepared for me -

After 4 decades on this planet, “we’re revoking your Eu...

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Save the words!

Preamble: this is a slam poem and probably works better aloud. I'll try to make a video one day.

I’m here today to speak to you about something of great importance:

We have to save the words!

Dozens of words each day are being lost

We cannot underestimate the intellectual cost

As their natural habitats become corrupted

And their reproductive patterns are being disrupted

Words ...

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If only poetry burned calories...(first posted 31/10/18)

One of my favourite ways of passing the time

Is chasing imagery and hunting down rhyme,

But as this takes place inside my head

It’s not enough, or so my doctor’s said.

Poetry feeds my brain and soothes my soul

But it doesn’t help much towards my fitness goals.


If only flexing words could take inches off my thighs!

If only shaping verses was more than mental exercise!


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I care about fitness enough to sign up for Zumba classes on Mondays

But not enough to attend them regularly.

I care about my looks enough to spend too much on make-up

But not enough to spend time putting it on properly.

I care about my weight enough to hurl messages of hate at the mirror in the morning

But not enough to resist the packet of biscuits late at night.

I care about my...

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I hooked onto the face of a psychopath executing flagellation
ate his lobster raw
and its eyes for his eyes
his damp face from my white meat spit
elastic banded claws dropped on embroidered brogues
in Monaco gamblers we trust
rise over here and I’ll hammer you

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Growing Up

I am fifteen years old and I think I own the world.

I have a boyfriend and he loves me.

He yells at me but that is okay, he loves me.

He shoves me but that is okay, he loves me.

He slapps me but that is okay, he loves me.

He holds me down as I yell and scream because it hurts but that is okay, he loves me.


I am sixteen years old and I escaped my first abusive relationship.


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