Monday, 20 August 2018


Belly Down
I lay belly down
on the front room carpet
with him spanning my back
our blue kimono kisses
sending nylon sparks flying
heating up the room
more efficiently
than the bars of the electric fire
as we fooled around
in housing association denial

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Mortar Attack
On paper
it shouldn't have been feasible
he would be punching above his weight
I'd be banging my head against a brick wall
and despite that
we worked for a spell
until the cracks began to show
then mortar split from brick
from the force of our blows

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Friday, 17 August 2018


Elm Park

My neighbour plays music
But I'm still at peace
Sitting on my sofa
Waiting for the medicine to show up
The coloured pills
That looked so fake
I was accused of being a police informant
There's plenty of grass in my back garden
It's thigh high in places
People think I live alone
But I'm rarely lonely
There are spiders in cobwebs
And butterflies outside
Foxes in the street
And one night I met a moth greeting me
At my front door
I don't like to talk about the mice
I miss them too much
You can spot my house
There's a tree out front
Ivy climbing up the wall
And a little brown Mercedes-Benz
I've only noticed in absence
Once in a year
Come see me some time
Bring some milk
And I'll make you brews
On the walk to the station
I notice one elderly lady helping another
They dress differently
Their skin is different
But their goal is the same
I overhear their conversation
Checking on another friend
Who's not to well
I've got my health
For now the bipolar in me
Has shifted to the middle
More or less
And a tattooed man helps his friend shift
A black monolith of a fridge
It can dispense ice or chilled water
I notice it's covered in hand prints
I mentally place a bet a woman
Will soon be polishing that
Erasing their efforts with pride
And maybe a little simmering resentment
He had a woman tattooed on his flank
And she capitulated under
The strain
Transforming into
A childs scrawl over his tanned hide
People have dumped their old belongings
Outside a charity shop
I showed my thrift
And took a composite cable from the top
The only gold I own is plated at their ends
As I leave elm park on the tube
A young girl walks through the tube
Silently, hand out, a skin cup of circumstance
I empty my right hand jeans pocket
Of the 23p it contains
The 23p I nearly gave to a homeless man
Last night, but I didn't want to disturb him
As he was rolling a cigarette
And when he looked up at me
Asking if I was alright
I bottled it, now I know why
The girl gave the money a disappointed look
Like it was wasting her time
We both knew it wasn't enough
She slipped it into her pocket anyway
And I wonder if she felt any pity for me
My champagne tastes and coca cola pockets
As my friend Steve says about himself
And I've just adapted
Like a bat to the dark

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It's Twenty To One

And everybody been
Maybe you make your stand in solitary
All politeness and rage
And although part of this sing/songs
I'm not from the street
We used to hang out in groups
only until it got dark
Goonies were the first thing I heard about gangs

The footballs mount up on the roof
where they photo degrade and stay
Due to health and safety and budgetary concerns
I know a patient who went over that wall like he was


Those are the odds you go to ladbrokes for.

Bogden beat them three times
and is still on the run
I don't know if the medicine is more toxic
than the veil of masculinity
But I think I know which will kill me first

In the eve, we play monopoly, even though
there are pieces missing
cards missing
the laughter of rampant capitalism is still there
I don't like everyone
Nor am I fair to everyone

And I still think of Amy Winehouse in Jamaica
Strong and fiery
until bought down by the expectations of others
Et tu Brutus?
           Me to sweetheart
                     I judged and wrote you off
                     Condemned you for drugs and standing by your man
                     But you're right Amy it's boring without the drugs
Here they keep us in check
keep us playing monopoly
They use drugs to keep us all going in many ways
This poem was meant to be more elegant and less
two tone

A Little Bit of Everything: Monopoly

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Thursday, 16 August 2018


blood from stone . . .

blood FROM stone ?

blood from STONE !

from stone ?

yes - 
from stone

everything is permitted
everything is possible

in metaphor

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