He had a limp, with crooked claw,

Of yellowed eye and snaggled tooth.

His Mother bore him cursed and poor,

Her fetid milk one hundred proof.

Suckled sick, he puked her gone,

Was sold to traders, passed around.

Cleaned the floors they’d fucked him on

N'er spoke a word, heard every sound.

Now old and bent but twisted straight,

This stinking twin of births fo...

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To put it in the Title

to me seems Sadly Vital

You have to Grab Attention

with Poetic based Invention

The Masses just want Action

to give them Satisfaction

It’s Bloody Death and Sorrow

that’ll bring them back Tomorrow

When its Culture that you’re after

turn to Shakespeare, Blake or Kafka

The Best of us are Dead

Unmarked, Un-missed, Unr...

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July goes out with a bang

walls collapse inward

port-a-loo effluence falls as rain

The sniper eats his breakfast

a fine dust of asbestos layers his tongue

his fingernails split by ricochet’d brick

Waking with his door like a coffin lid atop him

the room disappears into a falling sky

neighbours stagger blind like ghosts looking for shoes

And still the ...

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Skeletal Gospels

omit good news.

Skip to Revelations,

Apocalyptic view.

Eastern Gate still walled up,

Chalice spilling, poisoned Cup.

Ascension cancelled,

stampede ensues

thousands dead, trade wings

with shoes.

Angels and Demons playing ceasefire football,

lobb grenades against The Wall.

The Temple falls as fools rise up,

La...

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Don’t start with a The an I or a Where

Abandon conformity to Devil-may-Care.

Drink under a Yard Arm by light of The Moon,

Don’t stifle excitement albeit too soon.

Things come in Chaos and things come as Planned

That often are crushed by the well meaning hand.

The truth is whatever is can’t be second guessed,

As all those before us will never attest.

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Poached people in a Sea Container,

Spin Boldak.

A Corner Shop with a Taliban retainer,

Spin Boldak.

A White Desert frontier town,

Spin Boldak.

A Dead Martyr’s Shrouded gown,

Spin Boldak.

The last place of a Call to Prayer,

Spin Boldak.

Freighted refugees abandoned there,

Spin Boldak.

A memory never meant to share,

Spin Bolda...

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I had a friend who flung himself away

to the corner of a foreign field,

Leave no man behind they’d say

He lays there still today.

Sometimes my injury cripples me

how no one else can see it,

I think of his limbs cast randomly, 

Of my anger and how to free it.

They buy poppies and wear wrist bands

their gratitude on Display, 

They think they see it all. 

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