Archives for category: Poems

You make me want to go backwards
You make me want to take a breath
And just jump.
Streamline my body,
An arrow through the air
And cloak you. Protect you.
And thump.

We’d hit the ground but I’d catch it
For you. It would be in my grasp
In my hand.
And you’d wonder how
you ever, without me,
You ever brought yourself
To land.

Without me as your cloak, as your
Subterfuge. As someone who has
got your back.
Because baby
If it’s you or it’s me
I know whose head
I’d rather crack.


You stumble over your chair

And give me that vacant stare

Bottles in the other room

Your Narnia, frosted tomb.

The drinks cabinet your friend

Wood, glass you know how to mend

Unlike this pallid relationship

Dead on arrival, slack and decrepit.


Cos yeah I’m pissed off at you

But you’re just fucking pissed

Stone glare, you stare right through

Finger pointing, almost fist.

Then you come up to apologise

But the sounds don’t come out right

Because they’re all still excuses

And I wonder how obtuse is

Your fogged up thought process.


I’d do anything for you.


Yeah you’d pull the trigger.

Speech is daggers, rusty blunt,

And you think love still lingers.

Well I think a bit different.

And no I’m not just saying.

I need more than your barking and braying.

Your assurance you’re right

No evidence, love lost

You’re spitting in spite

And this is the cost:

The only time you say you love me

After you tell me to fuck off.

Your ring’s been lying under my bed for some time now.

It’s the ring you gave me after our first year together

In a loop that meant forever, if you could keep going round.

Now it’s just a silver circle and the meaning has leaked

Out of it, like a horseshoe upside-down.

I wonder where all those feelings go.

Did you lock them out, key under the doormat

Or hide it in a far safer place.

Did you torch them, pictures hot with memories

Which promised then never delivered.

Or did they just fall and you forgot to pick them up

Like your ring under my bed.

I guess I never really knew what went on

In your head. You always ran in a circle around me.


I think I’ll leave it there.



Yeah I love you

An empty love

One with no meaning

Not tied to a feeling

Blind, plucked dove.

Floating. Unseeing.

Yeah I love you

If that’s what love means

And there’s no trap door

Nor any hidden scenes

Then I love you, yeah

If it’s just acting out

Then I wouldn’t doubt.

But if that’s love, there

What it’s all about

Then let’s be clear,

Does anybody truly care?

This is for me, is it? Just because it’s pink

Rounded sides no sharp edges, did you ever think

That maybe I don’t want the same as every fucker here

Maybe I have thoughts as well, loud and crystal clear

Maybe I don’t ascribe colour to objects

Through a chance assumption of sex

Personification has gone too far

Boundaries and lines criss-cross like a scar.


Because you may have assigned the sheep to white,

The leaves to yellow and green

But from where I’m standing, from my sight

I do believe I’ve seen

A whole array of crayons before me

A whole lot of empty blank spaces

So tell me who are you, sincerely,

To officiate on all these cases


So I can paint the star yellow if I want to

Or green or pink or blue

Because following reality can be fun

But fencing it around won’t do.


Tell me why I’m fed this shit

That plastic and buttons and microchips

Can replace a face in the slightest bit

And I’m not stuck at home, getting to grips

With why all my friends are names and pics

And little bits of text, humorous licks

And I scroll and scroll and that’s kind of it

How fun I seem is being willing to sit

Upload and comment, like, subscribe

Show off my wit with the odd diatribe

Keep up to date, and know the facts

Stay up too late, then hear me wax

Lyrical on this subject I know nothing about

All cos I have a keyboard and a motor mouth


This hole is for speaking so why am I thrown

Into using these digits like mindless drones

My life’s now a series of zeros and ones

Text-speak slang and speaking in tongues

Has to be proof or GTFO

It’s Broadway, darling, it’s all in the show.

I’m told don’t remember, no, record-

For posterity, friends, or whenever you’re bored

To relive in flashbacks, snapshots, stored

For whenever you want, that’s your reward

For having your phone out like antenna

Being obsessed with your own agenda

It’s poisonous, toxic, oleander

But good for the goose, good for the gander.


Well I can’t grasp this. Can’t have that,

Walls covered in phony, posturing crap

I want frames and photos, memories man

Disagree? Do your worst, unfriend me. Damn.