Sunday, 19 December 2010


It was supposed to be a bedroom
But being too small for habitation,
Instead we used it for the storage
Of old things like toys and memories,
Just unwanted fragments of ourselves
That might have been useful once.
As you look around, my unstable thoughts
Like a drunken conversation overheard
Gloss over the blank page void
Of the whites of your eyes,
Because you don’t want to be told
What I need you to know.

Saturday, 18 December 2010

Background Noise

A sick, stray dog cowers by a bin
pressing itself to the ground and trying
to convince the world that it doesn’t exist,
as nearby a man spreading grit on a road
wonders out loud not where his life has gone
but why it was never there to begin with.
Kids who have nothing better to do
practice freeze frame parkour on a bench and
chat about what they will not do tomorrow
because not even they have the time or money,
whilst the dog licks its gammy back legs
and hides itself in a corner to wait.
Women debate the finer points of kettling
as police officers close in around them,
their actions don’t threaten, they promise;
but to the dog it is all the same
as it catches the scent of something
that is yet shouldn’t be there.

Thursday, 16 December 2010

Capital Obligation

It is hard to sleep
when you hate your dreams,
and harder still to wake up
when you fear your life
not flashing before your eyes
or blazing with glory,
but as just the day-to-day
ebbing away of things.

Tuesday, 14 December 2010


It is now that welcome hour when daylight turns to darkness
Whereby substantiated dignity we spurn our yoke and harness;
No flame is fierce enough to forge that which we have wrought
Or likewise to deter us from the deliverance of our thoughts.
All fell machinations and dearly purchased instruments of state
Follow old designs that our present sires have failed to replicate,
And by wielding tools of private madness for the public good
They proceed to create tyrants where once only servants stood.
So, when all across this sceptred isle our peaceful protestations
Are met with nothing but thuggery and official obfuscation,
What course remains for those of us who worship reason
Than to contemplate acts of such dark and dire treason?
None that would serve to quench our sense of outraged wonder
At why we are beholden to those who live for non-existent plunder,
For no one knows wealth’s true value better than those who assign it
Yet when sacrifice is necessary they would look to us to define it.
Initial hints of our disobedience provoked the full force of the law
Without anyone checking the consequences of doing that before,
But we will let them mock us for our actions or wearing hoods
And they will not sneer so politely when our words turn to blood.   

Monday, 13 December 2010


There goes that hour again...
It’s exactly the same as the last
And will be identical to the next.
If time flies here it does so in circles
Or rather it ever decreases in spirals
That take your life with them as you stand
With your wrists submerged in water
Trying to figure out exactly how
You ended up washing dishes for a living.