Poetry Blogs (2010, poem)
Cry we all toward places unnamed
Rise above the crested hills
Yell we will - shattering door frames
Plundering thoughts of plovered wills
Tear at the wallpaper - reveal the grain
Ink the slate - etched by wound-dipped quills
Crouch, prowl - ready to pounce on game
Brandishing swords, blaring trumpets shrill
Arching backs, phosphorescent wicks aflame
Ridding netted fish o...
Sunday 19th December 2010 2:32 pm
Once-upon-a-time, a barman worshipped the Sun.
Worked nights so didn’t see much of it
but in his head he’d got stories of
the Fire God supreme,
vanquishing monsters who'd eat out your dreams.
He called the Sun ‘Hero’,
believed it had six pairs of arms,
giant wings of flame
and the handsomest nose in the galaxy.
Made moons blush
Friday 17th December 2010 1:38 pm
This is about those dodgy pubs you often get. The one's where you walk in and everyone drinking turns to look at you. The Jukebox cuts off and a curchbell tolls in the distance. You quickly get a drink and find a booth. You soon come to realise that some of the hardest men in town are in that pub. Maybe you can relate? It's a bit long but just bare with it and tell me what you think.........
Thursday 1st July 2010 9:08 pm
Hope you enjoy it!
Tuesday 29th June 2010 12:24 am
It is something that I have been doing now for the best part of 2 years.
At least twice a month an envelope arrives on my doormat addressed to my pseudonym. Right at the moment I see the envelope I find more and more I am breathing a huge sigh (although not of relief). Contained within the unassuming brown packaging could be anything. Of late the contents of these envelopes has tended...
Tuesday 13th April 2010 5:41 pm
In his liquor induced stupor
‘Fuck’ was wrote on the wall
In piss, just for a laugh.
Some collectors, on leaving
The latest Banksy exhibition,
Pontificating ferociously about
the disaffection of our youth
In this apparent nihilistic society,
Caught a glimpse and wondered
How much it would cost
To have this pile of
Bricks gently taken down,
And placed in their gallery.
Thursday 11th March 2010 10:16 am
He lights his cigarette, I prepare to share it,
just so his lungs could see less tar.
He’s in a reflective mood; I can tell by the way
the flame emerged from his lighter
red and tenderly squirmed like a worm in a furnace.
He holds my gaze as the flame faints back in its tank
drags on the cigarette, slowly tilts his head back.
I ever tell you the story about the mango?
Wednesday 24th February 2010 9:08 am
Gigging this week at
RAW GEMS (30 mins) Zenith Bar, London
BEAT, Peter Parkers Bar Soho, London
Rich Mix with Apples & Snakes & Featuring with TV Smith at the Poetry Cafe, London
Get in touch if you're in town.
I'll do the poem in the audio attachment here as well as my current 'hit' as here:
I’m happy to be your plaything
A am your sex toy
Friday 12th February 2010 10:49 pm