Poetry Blogs (2012, homeless)
Don Matthews on Not Looking Forward to My Old Age, Specifically Arse Wiping (2 hours ago)
M.C. Newberry on Not Looking Forward to My Old Age, Specifically Arse Wiping (2 hours ago)
I inhale the tears
welling up in my eyes.
Feeling like I don't have
the right to cry for
letting so much time go by
without saying hi,
how are you doing,
what's new in your life?
I "kept in touch"
on social media,
and food for
people who didn't
know your name.
I was proud of you,
Monday 4th February 2019 4:04 am
Too late she cried
Sitting in Starbucks doorway
After the lights are all turned out
The demons are surly coming
I can hear them scream and shout
It is for me the sirens call
Flashing blue and white
Piercing though the darkness
Blindingly bright white
Flowing down the sidewalk
My life’s blood ebbs away
In the morning another statistic
Is all the p...
Tuesday 15th January 2019 8:58 am
The peasants have gatecrashed the reception
And made a beeline for the buffet plates,
The guests are appalled
Saying “Let’s get them hauled
To the dungeons before it’s too late”.
There’s a tramp hiding under the table,
A pheasant leg clamped in his teeth.
He’ll gnaw to the bone
While the table guests groan
About the smell that wafts up from beneath.
Sunday 20th May 2018 10:29 am
I’ll not cry for the fear of dying but I’ll shed a tear for all the things I will never know. The grand wormwood ran through the cracks of my broken glass and I could not look away, I watched them slowly put the needle back under the straw bed, in an instant rage the filthy ragged wool blanket was in the air, like a fool I could not look away. The smell of Absinthe filled the little...
Saturday 11th March 2017 5:52 pm
There were people In parks And malls and jails On street corners Standing beside a bus sign People that I didn’t know, How to help, as I watched them And very often witnessed Their issues Problems Public and private On full display, Barked like dogs who didn’t Play well with others and were On leashes too long Collars worn and tearing But still restricting The people, Their dogs, One in the same I...
Saturday 4th March 2017 5:33 am
Lying in a crib of straw
Staring at a star
Hanging over the barn
With the soughing wind
Prizing at the flimsy wood
That keeps the night at bay
Your future laid before you
In pre-ordained days
That smell of blood and betrayal
The multi-paternal conundrum
That plays upon your mind
As you carve wood...
Monday 12th December 2016 3:51 pm
I’ve been sitting here awhile
My cup is empty
No matter, I like watching human traffic
Foreign students chatter by
Her! She passes every day
Fresh long hair, a breezy skirt, so beautiful
The picture of my love when I promised her the universe
Now there’s a young man with determination in his stride
His tie flapping across his chest; his briefcase full of ambition
Wednesday 5th October 2016 9:33 pm
A dog died on the streets today
A well bred dog with pedigree
His coat was riddled with fleas and lice
And his stomach was empty.
He would never bark or snap or crack.
Some would offer him food or treats
And some say he died of sadness and grief
A man died on the streets today
One less dog to think of
some were heard to say
On his passing away.
Saturday 14th May 2016 12:19 pm
This Is England
the empty cardboard
coffee cup groans with hunger
eyes to eyes to anything
that isn’t eyes
clothes that itch with dirt
the taste of yesterdays soup
settles against teeth
sleep is the enemy
dulling your hopes of escape
if the spiteful arrive
with mean intentions
and brown leather boots
head bowed against the world
not looking ...
Monday 18th April 2016 8:26 pm
A cascade of sparks
exploding in the blackness
of a revellers sky
like bright tears.
Crying for the homeless
sat where the light
in cardboard boxes.
Damp and cold
while a flaming wheel
greets the crescent moon
as it circles.
of the turning year.
Out with the old and needy,
in with the bright young thin...
Thursday 1st January 2015 9:22 pm
Glass sides tip away the hope of perception and cameras flash away any hint of reflection
at this hub of metal minds and stiff bodies.
This soft grey raven digs for existence among the steel nest of discardment.
Every sip a taste of us, our residue his everything.
Around me, gold fingered bird-watchers with their fogged up binoculors,
tasting their uncessary glory.
Molten pride down th...
Thursday 20th November 2014 3:30 pm
was it out there
that I became a ghost?
I may be an unreliable witness
the constant stress does that to you
the days spent outside, unprotected
with a local population
that won’t look you in the eye
or when they do
they have the look of hate
that you are even there at all
if only the locals were less hostile
to my cause
if only I could count on my military team
to back ...
Monday 8th September 2014 7:32 pm
everywhere you look
creeping into corners
no one gives a fuck
peering from the darkness
in the shelter of a door
praying for forgiveness
hungry cold and poor
down upon their luck
pleading from their makeshift beds
no one gives a fuck
pressing against cold brick
crawling on the floor
crying for their past lives
Saturday 22nd February 2014 11:45 pm
I'm a homeless fly
destined to die
destitute on the sidewalk.
No cakes for me on the kitchen side,
no conspiring against humans with my bride.
Left jilted by the absence of bathroom jihad.
Everyone speaks of the house fly,
they speak of it as a pest.
But all I have is a piss-stained alleyway
to truly call my nest.
I subsist on sick ...
Saturday 7th July 2012 4:07 pm
man on the street, I
turn my eyes so I will not meet.
No, but see my possible life.
Fear in my heart, is all hope
Tuesday 24th January 2012 11:12 pm
Pretend I'm not here!
Do not look at me with disgust.
is not the reason I am here.
Some a job's loss to be in
This is a more cameo style poem.
Wednesday 7th December 2011 4:59 pm
Her caramel complexion told not the stories she did not tell,
Nor did I ask.
No bucked teeth,
No smack-banged jitters
mixed with incoherent stutters...
but beauty in the most surprising of places.
Piccadilly Gardens on a sunny Mancunian afternoon
the busy city stands in shock
at the thought that anything can happen.
Without the badge such beauty w...
Saturday 15th October 2011 11:43 pm
Traipsing through an alley,
between bins of shit and ash
you saw him sat in a lotus repose.
You knew it was him because
of his locks: tangled and ancient.
A sadhu unknowing of any observers.
You could see the great Ganges,
squalid and yellow, trickle then pour
from the leg of his trousers.
Like the sage he was,
the dishevelled ascetic, misplaced
in his concrete wilderness,
Saturday 20th March 2010 1:20 pm